By Boat to Gao

Happy Winter Solstice ! The shortest day of the year, felt even at my more equatorial latitude. So, how early is early? First prayer call early? 5am. Ability to see the Southern Cross in the Malian sky early? 4:45am. Before people light their fires early? 4:30am. That is the time I was up this morning to catch the first boat to Gao. It’s dark. Very dark. When I reached the “docks” (really just a sandy area with some boards for gangplanks) after 5am, the men there were in prayer. One was crouched down in the shallows performing his abolutions. Luckily, he finished just before another man relieved himself in the river. Fires dotted the shores of the Niger, the stars were fading. So dark, especially now foreigners have ditched town for the holidays and turned off their generators. We load the boat and are off by 6:15. 50 some passengers board, as well as motos, merchandise, trunks, two “pirogues” (filled with sheep as they were placed perpendicular to the hull), more sheep in the stern and aft pens, plus an angry bull. Some goats too, and a cow with calf. Smells great. The man next to me plays with his sword. We’re in the middle of the Niger, Mali’s bath tub-toliet-spitoon-playground-sewer-avenue of commerce-food source of a River. No escape. A man dips a cup overboard and takes a deep drink. Ew. Every stop people wade through the shallows to get to the gangplank, for the hull does not run deep, but we can’t quite pull ashore. This is the transport of the “ntalka,” the commoner. Some start to cook breakfast on board. Good, open flames on a wooden boat. I begin to chat with my neighbour; who also gave me a “taffe” to wrap up in (traditional skirt) cause it was chilly out this early on the river! As I get comfortable on top of the sacks of rice which line the hull, I notice the men bailing out water. Everytime I have been on a boat in Mali this happens. I guess they don’t use tar or anything to seal the wood. Another thing I learned on voyage, sheep can swim. Yes, a sheep jumped out of the boat and started swimming to shore. I think he was trying to make an escape, remembering how all his buddies were slaughtered this time last year for Tabaski. The captain turned the boat around and three men heaved the ram back into the boat. At the next stopped I inquired if there were an outhouse I could use near the banks to go “spill water” (lit. Sonrai translation of urinate). Well, I forgot my modesty and squatted right on shore like the rest of the women. No bushes or anything, but I am understanding the necessity of always wearing a taffe: serves as a nice curtain. When the owner of the boat went around collecting fares as we approached Gao (I was going to the regional capital for Christmas with fellow volunteers), he demanded I pay 5000 CFA, five times the actual price, which luckily my host sister had told me the night before. I tried to explain how I’m not like other “Anasara” that have come before, I may have white skin, but I don’t have money. He didn’t understqnd the concept of volunteer and how I work without pay. Once I paid the 1000 CFA, he still wouldn’t drop the issue. Not all people with white skin have a lot of money. I tried to explain the poor and hungry in the US and Europe…but he wouldn’t have it. Alas. The schema of white person here is just not a PCV who speaks their language and doesn’t have money to just give away. I fell asleep for a bit, but woke up to drama. A woman had slapped her 6 or 7 year old of a son for peeing in the bottom of the boat. Most of the women there were criticizing her as the boy tried to be tough and not cry. Your business quickly becomes everyone's business. The wind had picked up, and the argument subsided. I tied my shawl around my head the Malian style to keep my hair kempt (I’m sorry but if unkempt is a word then kempt should be its opposite). The women were then supportive and laughing, calling me "koyra-boro way"; a Sonrai woman. At last, a full 10 hours later, I was off the boat in Gao to the cries of Anasara. A man asked where my husband was, naturally that is what you say to a complete stranger. It is sorta the “how’s the weather?” here. I had a great Christmas in Gao, complete with Catholic mass (accented by a crêche with flashing lights and a disco ball over baby Jesus), an army of Gingerbread men turned dancers and a tiny Charlie Brown Christmas style tree. We also entertained the neighbors with our caroling, and had two Christmas chickens. Merry Christmas and God Bless us, one and all! Peace in the New Year!

MWEEEEH! MWEEEEH!

Screams the goat. They are hilarious, particularly when fleeing from owners by jumping my courtyard wall. MWEEEH! Sanctuary! MWEEEH! They scream. Sorry guys, I think you are delicious in my lunch just as much as my neighbors do!
Frank, my cat, has begun to take commands in Sonrai.
I walked to the edge of town today on the way to work. I met a Sonrai man along the way working on his very colorful wall (various broken bottles and shards of ceramics were pressed into the mud). We chatted for a bit about Peace Corps and our faiths, but without labels. So when he was saying how God is the model of patience because if he were not patient he would just entertain himself and recreate the world everyday, I replied "He has the power." No matter what, I felt like we were speaking about the same God. It was also a message I needed to hear right then, feeling lonely and homesick. I just have to be patient and see where this service takes me.
I spoke with a woman who works in the Circle-level administration. (National-Regional-Circle-Commune/Mayor-Chief) She is excited to have me around, and has a very nice family. I was their during laundry time, so naked children were running about.
One Gao volunteer is having her whole family come soon so they are bringing us Christmas! Cheers!

Re-adjusting

I've been in my new home with my new family since a week ago. I have my own space (three spacious and sunny rooms in a mud brick house) but I also do things together with them. Sure glad eating with my hands is second nature now and I don't spill as much as I eat!
I love my new work assignment in the Ansongo hospital. I have spent lots of time with mothers and their new babies to chart growth and encourage vaccination. Few are severe marasmas, but I know those who actually come to the center are already motivated. I need to get out into homes and teach women how to use what they have to nourish their children. I have decided nursing or a public health career is probably what I will pursue after observing rounds and all that needs to be done to convince people the importance of good health.
I found a Christian community that meets in a home, so I went to "church" for the first time, singing hymns in French. I look forward to spending time with the pastor and his family because he is Touareg and his wife is from Timbuktu.
Being on the main road to Niger which is currently undergoing an update to a paved highway attracts all kinds of people, so I have to act as I would in a big city: head covered, avoid walking at night, make friends. I know as I learn the dialect better I will feel more a part of the community.

Thanksgiving

This is the first Thanksgiving that I've heard the turkey gobble in the morning, had it plucked, butchered, and cooked in time for dinner.
I made the stuffing from scratch; others made potatoes, deviled eggs, salad, yams, and gravy. I also made pumpkin pie and apple crisp. More dessert than meal really with the squash pie and banana pudding pie. Mmmmm.
Today I did the weekly radio show with other volunteers. We talked about what an African-American is in the USA, and how the USA has people with ancestors from all over the world.
Once back home in Ansongo I met the mayor and he recommended a tutor to help with the local dialect.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Gao now, brown cow

I just met my new family yesterday. I am Ansongo-boro (person of Ansongo) now. I really like Gao, banking and regional capital. Course it also helps there are seasoned volunteers here who have taken us under their wing. Turns out one of them has a little brother named Peter...and Peter was in Beijing with me!! Crazy huh? Ansongo is flat, sandy, and made up of wide, dusty roads unlike the curvy alleys of Goundam. I am off the main road, and from my roof I can see the Niger and its rice-paddy packed flood plain to the west. Today I biked to an animal market and bartered for cows, sheep, goats, donkeys, and camels. I don't think the vendors thought we were serious however. But I am serious. When else will I ever be able to own a camel? Or a cow? The hardest thing about my new home is that I don't speak the dialect. I think a guy asked me home to bathe with him yesterday. Of course I said no, I refuse. In my dialect...who knows if that was clear to his ears.

Oxygen

I escaped from Bamako to go rock climbing the last couple of days in Siby, a village near the cliffs of sandstone amidst the Sahel in southern Koulikoro region (same region as Bamako, on the road to Guinea, heading southwest out of Mali). Our transport going was a bus (the driver of which only owned one tape, played on loop, of a laughing and then crying baby remixed techno style), for which we waited for hours. At least we were entertained by the endless barrage of insults to our names due to "cousinage" (it's a way to pass the time). We enjoyed the "nectar of the gods," a sweetened purple drink made from hibiscus flowers served ice-cold. We also practically ate the banana vendor out of business. Arriving in Siby, we dropped our bags at the "broussy" hotel (a collection of huts with no electricity nor running water) and walked out to the main road. The moon hadn't risen yet, so I took in all the stars that I had been missing while under polluted Bamako skies. Then it was time for dinner. The street food in Siby is renowned. I had a plate of beans and a plaintain sandwich, avoiding the meat-sticks even though they looked so good! The next morning, after delicious street omelets, we met the guys who ran the rock-climbing expeditions. The hike up to the cliffs really wasn't too grueling, though, the incline was abrupt. The mist and fog hadn't cleared yet, so we only saw a shrouded Sahelian landscape below. Once at the base of the runs, the guides sparred no time in whipping off their shirts (a Malian thing, regardless of gender really...it means getting down to business). As they were setting up the courses, I hiked up to the crest of the butte and over around back of it where there was a beautiful wind-eroded arch. Just like southeastern Utah. Because we are at the period where Mali is most lush (end of the rainy season) I couldn't access the top of the arch. The climbing was great, one run took me two tries (30ft), and the last (60 ft.) was my favorite because of the ledge at the top, allowing me to stand and scream "Alhamdulilahi!" I also just sat up there (until the balayer was getting impatient) and breathed. This was oxygen. Without odors of sewage and feces, without exhaust! The climb down the butte was a bit rough on my knees, but nothing a little rice and tigadegena (classic west African PB sauce) couldn't cure. In the afternoon when went spelunking of sorts. We went hiking up the northern escarpment in search of rumored caves with waterfalls. We found paradise in Mali. It was at least 10 degrees cooler in the cave, if not more, with ferns and hibiscus and a waterfall. Palm trees hugged the mouth of the cave, and birds were serenading us as we sat and enjoyed the surroundings. Again, I took as deep of breaths as possible without passing out...the air was just that intoxicating. We watched the sunset from out of the cave, but the muezzin calling evening prayer reminded us we had better hike our way back down the cliff side to make it back before dark. I opted for street food again. Macaroni for me this time, with more beans. It all sounds like perfectly mundane/bland food, but with a little Maagi (Le secret de bonheur) everything is delicious. Our last day we decided to get up early to get transport out before the market really got bustling, but things didn't go as planned. We quickly found the van headed to Bamako. This was 8:30. They loaded our stuff and said we would be on our way in "quelque minutes" only. Ha. By 9 the rest of the group found us, deciding it would be easier to go into Bamako and then catch transport back out to their sites. Well, this meant the van was getting more full and maybe we would get going. No. At 10, we threatened to find other transport if they wouldn't leave in 10 minutes. We knew there would be no shortage of passengers up the road desiring to board. Why did we have to pack it in right in Siby?? So 10 minutes goes by and the girls who wanted off (two of us had no choice but to stay on this transport) caused a scene trying to get their bike off the roof. The driver flat out refused. They started the car, and said we would be on our way. Lies. All lies. For as soon as a mediator (arguments are always solved by a third party here) settled the dispute and the girls found other transport, they turned off the engine again. Drat. So we were depressed by the sad looking donkeys, discussed development politics in Mali, joked with the few on the van (my Bambara is surprisingly improving just by immersion), and finally obtained "kosam" (sweetened milk sold typically by Peulh vendors). But we couldn't leave the van. That meant giving up our primo front bench seats (most breeze, least dust, close to the exit!!) Evidently we were waiting on another car due in with more potential passengers. These turned out to be three ornery goats (strapped to the top...goats really sound like small children screaming when in distress...not cool) and about 30 chickens tethered to the side of the car. By the time we started rolling (11 am) and got passed the second "gendarmerie" checkpoint, we had four men in the cab of the van, 23 people in the van (with middle bench added and two chickens who refused the tether), and 3 on the roof with those screaming goats! I could not feel my knees down...at least the road wasn't incredibly bumpy. Transport is always obnoxious here. Always. And yet I always enjoy the experience because of the conversations had (always starting with insults/jokes and demands for items to be given as gifts), random things observed, and whether or not I can beat the record of 29 people in the back of a van, experienced on a trip back from homestay last August....

New site!

Alhamdulilahi! Praise be! I got a new site!!I will be installed in Ansongo (Gao region) next Monday or Tuesday, if all logistics go smoothly. Ansongo is 5 hours from the regional capital, Gao, but only 100 km or so. Read: public transit by not-so-great road. A large paved road is currently being constructed from Niamey, Niger, which will make it easier to travel. Ansongo is north of Burkina and Niger, in north-east Mali, on the edge of the desert. It is a river town on the Niger, so lots of fish readily available in the market. There has never been a Health PCV at this site before, but the Chef Medecin is excited to have me. I will most closely work alongside a nurse and obstetrician. The Centre de Santé Référance (CSREF) is one step up from the community health center in which I worked previously, meaning there should be more resources and doctors available. However, electricity has not come to Ansongo as of yet. My work will focus on nutritional education (with NGO "Action Contre la Faim/Action Against Hunger"), as well as vaccination programs and promotion of prenatal care, which focuses on maternal nutrition and vaccination. The doctor also hopes I will use the local radio for awareness. Maybe I'll get a regular health Q&A show going...Another PCV, who was formerly stationed in Goundam with me, will also be placed in Ansongo doing Ag work. I will have to learn Sonrai of Gao now, "Koyraboro senii" (the dialect I know is "Koyraciini") and maybe some Tomachek, the language of the Tuareg. My house of 3 rooms shares a courtyard with a family, so I am really happy about that. I can't wait to get some good home-cooked Sonrai meals again: warm, flat bread (takula) fresh from the ovens with a side of sheep head for breakfast, lunches rice and a sauce so black/green with a smell so pungent it really shouldn't be food but is delicious sustenance at that, and steamed bread (wigila) with sweet fig sauce and meat for dinner! Plus, with the hospitality that has met me thus far, I am bound to meet many more friends, and this time maybe I'll be able to stick around long enough to really get to know them!I am incredibly excited the wait is soon over!! Thanks for everyone's continued support!

New assignment to come...

"Living peacefully?" Ask the Bambaras cheerfully each morning as I leave my temporary apartment in Bamako. Sometimes I feel so fake answering the expected "peace only," cause right now I'd rather be doing my job at site, the job I came here to do, than sitting in Bamako. Waiting. At least I have news. I will not be going back to my site in Goundam, Timbuktu region. The Embassy and the State Department have the last word, and their word is no Americans in Timbuktu. Meaning the Peace Corps is forced to suspend service there indefinitely. So...options include sites to the east and south. Good news is the CD guaranteed Frank (my kitty) would move with me to my new site.

"Relocated"

To a temporary consolidation point. Though I was removed from site abruptly last night, I was not ev%!*&ted. We are not to use that word. We might go back. Official word is the following:

U.S. Embassy - Warden Message - Bamako, Mali - October 14, 2006
The Embassy of the United States in Bamako, Mali, would like to inform U.S. citizens that it has received information suggesting a possible threat to U.S. interests in Timbuktu. The Embassy encourages all residents and visitors in these areas to exercise heightened vigilance concerning their own safety. The Embassy also wishes to inform Americans that as a precautionary measure Peace Corps Volunteers are being temporarily relocated from the area of Timbuktu.

They don't even know if we will be able to go back. I tried to say goodbye in the hour or so I had...but it was tough finding people (call came in at 9pm, left for airport at 4:30am). I gave my kitty I just got (mouse problem solved!) to my teacher and told people God willing I would be back in 2 or 3 weeks. And I was just getting really settled. I had started my research (home surveys) and was getting a feel for future projects I would conduct. Like girls sleeping around with older guys for the cadeaux they receive...and ending up pregnant. It maybe a conservative culture, but when resources are few...At any rate, I've already discovered this need in only 2 weeks. So much more to be done! I definitely want to get a girls club started and generate some income for this group. But only if I am able to return. I am not losing hope until I receive more info. But it will certainly be difficult to learn another language and adjust to a new site if need be...since Koyracini Sonrai is only Timbuktu region. Perks: I am back in the south and there is fruit again!!! Yero fo huborodiyo! We greet y'all!

Goundam

My first two weeks at site included setting up my new home, meeting and greeting, tea drinking, mapping, and exploring. Oh, and eating.
My host family is another "alfa" family or one of imams and educators, so they were also Cisses. However, I live in a house in the neighborhood "Gureyga," where the pharmacist at the CSCOM (Centre de Sante Communitaire) jokes men will cut off your head if they don't like the look on your face. Isn't that a line from Aladdin? I learned the words for "sword" and "behead". Useful vocab in everyday life...haha.
This is how my life goes, silly conversations, constantly learning vocabulary, putting time in at the CSCOM. I enjoy vaccination days, because I actually understand what is going on. Other days I listen to consultations with the doctor, Fofana, to learn about common illnesses here. I help him translate because he is from the South and speaks Bambara. Lucky for me as this improves not only my Sonrai but also my French. There was a man with broken ribs after being kicked by his donkey, and a child with severe chest burns (fell into the fire) but it is mostly malaria and cholera causing diarrhea (from playing/working in the river).
Goundam is in "lake country" of the Timbuktu region, situated not on the Niger, but near a series of lakes connected by small rivers.
Dr. Fof wants me to increase frequentation of the center. When I walk the winding streets of Goundam daily, past two story mud-brick houses avoiding piles of sewage/run-off and sticking to the pockets of shade, I am bombarded by greetings and questions of health. "Go to the CSCOM!" I reply. I did give substantial advice to a woman with a swollen ear, and another with an abcess blocking milk flow for her baby. Like my "bible" (Where there is no doctor) says: most things can be cured with water and cleanliness. There is definitely an over-prescription of antibiotics.
My host family is great. M. Badou as people call him is a former Premier-cycle teacher who is looking into getting a position in the school administration. In the meantime, he tutors. PCVs and students who frequent his home. I go over in the late afternoon, after having lunch with my homologue's family. Inevitably they give me a second lunch. I chat with M. Badou's mother (85-year old Fatoumata Toure) or his wife. They often sit rolling pasta or couscous for dinner. Once, I helped make "stir-stir" or "kourba-kourba" the sticky paste of millet made into balls and dipped in sauce. Mostly for dinner we have "takula" fresh from the beehive-shaped ovens and meat. I learned quickly not to make myself breakfast, because my homologue always feeds me before we go to work. Sheep head and takula. She puts on this lotion after breakfast, so now whenever I smell the same lotion, I think of sheep head. Mmm...usually the matrones give me "doh", a spicy millet drink mid morning too. So, yes, lots of eating. Oh, and they don't take "I'm full" as an answer. Aside from the typical "gambi" nickname they gave me (most Mariamas in Mali go by Maya, Mamu, or Gambi. I got Gambi), they call me "little belly".
After dinner we discuss religion, politics, and football. Heated conversations! Tonight, as it is Friday the 13th, we discussed bad luck and superstitions. My new kitty Frank isn't trouble, as a Siamese, but black cats are. Black beatles that squirt acid are bad luck (makes sense, they cause burns!) and sleeping in the cemetary is well, not recommended. They also frown on multi-tasking: a Songhoy proverb goes "Running while scratching one's ass doesn't work." I really enjoy how interested M. Badou is in health issues, and he has already helped me understand why there are teenage pregnancies (health ed exists but girls look for money) and what we can do about malaria. He doesn't believe there is life on other planets. He respects that I am Christian, and believes for everyone there is one road in life. If you stray from that road, you are being unfaithful. He walks me home every night, with a cane in hand, swinging it back and forth. He is a great father-figure here to not only his sister's children (orphaned), but to his students, and now to me, the lonely PCV.

I do solemnly swear...

...that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.

We all were dressed in our finest boubous (men) and completes (women). After Mali PC director spoke, the Honorable Ambassador addressed us and we raised our right hands to enter 24 months of service to the U.S. government. I paused on the words "without mental reservation" but continued on knowing that God does help me.

Ready!

Asalaamaleykoum! Peace be with you! I am a few days away from being sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I had to say goodbye to my host family on Sunday, which was pretty rough since they were so great to me. I will definitely be visiting them in January when I can travel (no traveling for the first 3 months at site). At least knowing I became so well adjusted in 2 months it won't take me long to adjust to the north, especially with my language skills. My Sonrai is far from perfect, but I am pretty confident with it. The chef de poste at a CSCOM even commented at my proficiency when I gave an animation (presentation) there on water treatment...so, I am working on my French and even started the Arabic alphabet. The tutor we met up north during site visit will continue my training.
Once installed, I am free to do projects in surrounding villages/encampements, and the schools. My first three months at site is mostly development research and needs assessment. Lots of surveys and observation! I am getting incredibly excited to use the technical and lang skills I have learned. I have already taught about water treatment, and made some ameliorated porridge. The soap-making didn't exactly turn out (I think it was the recipe), but I was encouraged how my host family members didn't give up on it! They just kept stirring and stirring! Even as it was practice, it was incredibly rewarding. I feel like my work will only continue to improve! Inc'hallah! It is in God's hands!
Lots of love to everyone! Bear with me, I know I have neglected letter writing, but I promise now I am out of training I will have more time on my hands!Gomni ma ka! Peace!

Tech Training

Homestay is coming to an end, that is why I find myself in Bamako to search for lye to teach my family how to make soap. It is a lesson I will share with women up north as a small business intitiative in their associations, but my host mom and older sister will benefit from the extra income now. How do I know how to make soap? Our tech training has begun. We already held a baby weighing in Sala. We weighed 145 babies! A majority are healthy, but follow up and ameliorated porridge is necessary for many. I ran the advice table and was so happy I could already give advice on breastfeeding techniques, weaning, diet, and maternal health in Sonrai! It will only continue to improve...
We also toured a CSCOM, the same sort of service I will work at, and learned about clinic management. I particularly was amused by the wisiwisi (newborn) and the goats climbing onto the roof of the ambulence to sun. The "chef de poste" was extremely helpful and actually has family working in Timbuktu. Most importantly, I am safe, happy, and really starting to feel like I am helping people! I treated 3 mosquito nets alone today and explained the importance of the protection. Whee!
yerkoy ma fabba! May God help you!

Back in homestay

Swearing in as an official volunteer is scheduled for Sept. 29!
Meanwhile I'm learning more with my host family, now actually applying language skills. I am doing health surveys and a few demonstrations in Sonrai. Amazing how even after living here a month, I still learn more about my family and the village. My host father has another wife in Bamako. The village primarily exists for the sand-extraction industry along the Niger (3 km away). Sonrai people come to settle in search of money in the richer south. Peulhs seem to be in every village in Mali from here to Kayes (West) to Sikasso (deep South) to the North. My host brother will be moving to Sikasso to be a driver as soon as I leave. I worry about his health, for the sub-set of drivers in the population have a much higher rate of contracting HIV/AIDS (though still low in terms of sub-saharan Africa). I know the PC prepared the homestay families, but I am encouraged as to how open they are.
Yesterday I had an interesting conversation about terrorism. My host-brother saved clippings from the NY Times his aunt state-side had sent him in 2001. He believes the people that attacked America are evil. I learned the Sonrai word for hell. He is sad some Americans view all Muslims as the same. He loves peace. We laugh at my impression of the little girl in pigtails who yells "J'aime la paix" during a public service announcement on TV (powered by a car battery).

Tragic accident

Sad about boating accident on the Niger.
http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.press.view&news_id=1148.

Justin helped with our training. Matt was a third year from Chad. Funeral service was interfaith and a moving tribute to Justin and Matt.

Site visit

Site visit was amazing. As the tourist T-shirts that were repeatedly thrust into my hands to buy said: I have been to Timbuktu and back.
Timbuktu is....sandy. It was great to speak the language everyone spoke there, cause it is a pocket of a minority language, a remnant of the once grand Songhoy empire. Of course, there are a lot of Tuareg (nomadic tribe), who speak Tomachek. Men were cruising on their horses, turbans, swords, and blue robes. Women are more conservatively dressed, but still mostly Malian attire. The food is meat heavy with all the herding that goes on in the north. One lunch we ordered a sheep. It was slaughtered, smoked, and hacked up into a pile of meat seasoned with salt (so abundant) and served with this delicious warm flat bread. I really am looking forward to my site. The largest lake in West Africa besides Lake Chad is north, and we have two more lakes near by. In the desert. Some streets in the town just end so a wall can be built to keep the sand out. Doesn't work too well. I think my bike will be useless, so I hope to get a camel. I'm gonna save up. I love my guard at my house, he is a griot. I am sure I will have a wonderful time conversing with him. The architecture is great, with inner courtyards and rooftops. Much like ancient greek houses. The rooftop social scene is great, lots of tea drinking and conversation. I love my market too...so excited to try my culinary hand here with so many spices! Sadly not as much produce, but I will figure out how to get a balanced diet. We saw hippos crossing the Niger and beautiful sunsets over the river. Part of mid-Mali (Mopti region) looks like Southern California. More later....back in Bamako for more training!

Day 34: Thoughts while on Site Visit

My landlord is seriously annoying! Well, I can tell he is trying to take care of me, but my individualistic-American ideas still haven't faded all together. At least I am moving from Hari Banda into Goundam ville and won't have to deal with him once installed. This morning he was in my courtyard when I woke up. He had been there since sunrise. "Are you really tired? Was yesterday rough?" He asks. "The day is passing!" (My least favorite Sonrai phrase "jaari koron" or "the day is hot" meaning "get a moving or we'll all be scorched!"). This was at 7am! I tried to explain I didn't have to be at my tutor's until 9am. He asked if I had a watch. He even wen tinto my house while I was on the roof eating breakfast and turned off the fan. He left for work finally and I continued to slurp my fattening porridge.
C'est bizarre ça: M. Badou never is there when we saqy we will be there. But we get time with the family whcih is always good. I already love is octogenarian of a mother. And little Fatim, a niece I believe, is such a flirt. At age 4. The T2 folk came so we drove around showing them Goundam. My house is coming along. The façade is finished and they were mixing cement for the flooring as we left. I also met my guardian or sorts, a griot. All his children are much too curious and may proove to be a handful. We went over to market street and chatted with some men (a few in my homologue's family). Kadija, my homologue, was en brousse doing vaccinations. They want me to marry Kadija's brother. When I refused, he asked, "Is it because I have black skin?" To quote Friends: "Can open...worms...everywhere!"

In the evening we went to M. Badou's again where we found him sitting out front his house with a child in his lap. Always. Very fatherly. Then as we were playing cards, "chollo" or a dust storm kicked up. Well, more approached like a big orange menacing wall of sand and grit. We went inside of course, but my skin was still covered in a fine layer of dust. Then the rain came. The streets filled, as would have the family's courtyard if Vieux hadn't dug a trench out through the front rooms and to the street. Kids were playing in the muddy street water and "showered" in the fountains spewing from gutters. The weather calmed and we were able to watch TV out on M. Badou's roof. We saw a strange show from Burkina where a man with an acoustic guitar played 50 cent singing "Come on shorty, it's your birthday. We're gonna party like, it's your birthday. Drink..." Yeah. All that was lacking was a campfire. Dinner was meat. And takula. And green beans! Of course I was given another bowl of fattening porridge as I left, but as we were walking back to Hari Banda (lit. "behind the water") the bowl slipped. The porridge spilled everywhere **tear** It was pretty awesome seeing M. Badou walk swinging his silver cane like a pimp. The big Peulh hat completed the look. A girl leaning against a wall near my house was so shocked over seeing a few white people she actually tipped over. Wow.

Assignment received

I am visiting my site starting tomorrow, a town outside of Tumbutu (Eng. Timbuktu). I already passed my language qualifications, so I want to brush up my French and maybe learn Fulfude, which is also spoken at my site. So far I only know my work is at a local community health center, my counterpart is a midwife, and I will be targeting nomadic people to come and get babies weighed and vaccinated among other tasks.
I love it here, I am incredibly happy, and learn something everyday. As always, there is a line for the computer.
One story before I go: When I was riding the local transport back to the training compound, the ticket seller hopped up on top since the bus was soooo packed. We went over a large rock and the guy flies off the back of the bus rolling through the dirt. He hops up smiling and gets back on the bus. We were going 30 mph at least!!! That is how things go here, problems are just shrugged off with a laugh or smile. Makes life easy.

Homestay life continued

I love my family here. My name is Mariama. Mariama Cisse. On any given day, I greet residents in my village of 3000 people in 5 different languages: Sonrai (Koyracini, my target lang), French, Arabic, Fulfulde/Peuhl, and Bambara. Greeting is the most important thing I do. Well, and learning how to conjugate verbs!
I have hosted tea at my house, one of my favorite cultural traditions. And I am getting good at making the most froth at the top of each small glass by pouring the sweetened mint tea almost a foot above the small shot glass. It'll take more practice, but we drink daily :)
My lang facilitators are extremely helpful. The goats in my village continue to be hilarious. They scream and stick their tongues out at me. The children have taken a liking to me, especially my 3 month old niece, Maimuna. I play soccer once and awhile with the boys in the village, though this tests gender lines. I have also learned a few card games and often play with my 26 yr old brother, Ousmane, and his wife, Mariama (my namesake). My cousin also likes to "kar maryasi" (play cards) now and then. I also shadow the women in my concession, learning how to do laundry by hand and how to cook. It seems as though they never rest but to eat or feed babies. And is this rest? I am getting quite a lot of exposure to Islam because my father is an imam and is often the muezzin at the nearby mosque. I often wake at 4:45 with the first call to prayer. I have learned what is good and bad in Islam with my broken Sonrai, and I know there is much more to discuss and learn. But so far I can see similarities with what is righteous and damning in Christianity as well.
As I expected, I am constantly challenged. I sweat. I itch. I jump at interesting creepy crawlies (but less freaked than I thought). I dodge free range animals. My health is tested, but all is well and for that I am thankful. My patience is really tested. "Malian time" takes getting used to. I am pretty much at the mercy of nature: roads turn to rivers in rain, I am up with the sun and go to bed soon after dark. Though I have come to appreciate the light of the moon and the number of stars in the sky. So much makes me smile. I am so motivated and excited for every new day. I apologize for I know there is so much more I want to share and I am sure this only makes you wonder more. I only wish I could tell more tales. Hugs to all!

Homestay life

I am integrating well into my host family. I struggle over words I don't understand, but the love, laughter, kindness, patience and care trump that. The food is more nourishing than I expected, carby, but enough meat and fruit to make it decently balanced. I went to the market this morning mostly to practice Sonrai, but also to restock detergent and find some head scarves. I do everything by hand: washing, laundry, cooking, fanning, sweeping, etc. Aside from the broiling sun and insects, I am appreciating nature more. The moon is a great flashlight, stars my map/compass, and the breeze my air conditioning. There is less waste here as a result. I do feel like I am living on one big farm. The animals all roam freely. I laugh at the animals, especially the goat who manages to get stuck in the fenced enclosure at the schoolyard. The goat screams, not bleats, screams like a little girl, sticking its tongue way out until it frees itself. This happens at least daily, and it never ceases to entertain me. The mommy chicken had babies in the courtyard so they are cute, too. I don't care as much for their dad who likes to cockledoodledoo at 5:30 am. I am up at the crack of dawn anyway with the mosque calls to prayer. Early to rise, early to bed. Our language facilitators ar incredible. I have learned alot, also about gender roles, respect for elders, and seasonal tasks. Really I feel at home and couldn't be happier.

Arrival

It has been akin to Girl Scout Camp here in "Tubaniso" (House of Doves), Mali as we orientate ourselves to the country and service. Language, cross cultural, safety, health, and development theory classes have taken up my days. We had a dance party last evening where I was able to begin to pick up the traditional dances of Mali. We each live in a hut, and I shower out of a bucket. The termites dropped their wings tonight, the toads enjoy watching me do my business, and the longest millipede I have seen is well, too long.
Big news: I found out I will be placed in Timbuktu (Fr. Tombouctou) once training is over. It is on the Niger River, but is serious desert. Thus, I have to learn Songhai (Fr. Sonrai).
Tomorrow I will be installed in my host family village as part of training. We live with the families and take culture and language classes by day. A rep from my village came to the compound today to introduce himself and answer questions, we shared a bowl of rice with peanut sauce...eating with the right hand. No silverware here! Between French and broken Bambara (the most common dialect in Mali) I understand that my host father is very well-fed and likes to laugh. I'm incredibly excited!
Some days it is tough to understand my place here, other days I just can't wait to start my assignment! We trainees are becoming fast friends, but naturally I miss you all incredibly! Pray for my strength tomorrow as I will be entering a village that speaks a language in which I only know one word: yes. No might be better with all the attention I am sure to get.