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.