Persisting

What an auspicious day for the Chinese, 8-8-08 and the opening ceremonies of a day they have been waiting and preparing forever it seems...their debut on the international event-planning and execution stage.

For me, it is another day at a great job—Oxfam (I work in the bureau of Gao) has named me sensibilisatrice to their Promotion Santé Publique project based in Bamba. Bamba is a commune seat (where the mayor works) situated between massive dunes and the banks of the Niger River. So I ask myself when they build the hydroelectric dam in Tausa on the road between Bourem (circle seat where the Prefecture is) and Bamba, where will the displaced persons go? Nearly all agricultural production is situated on large islands where the water is sufficient to cultivate rice, the aliment du base; this poses a problem when the islands are submersed as water levels rise due to the damming. WFP finds the commune food secure; and yet, many prefer to grow the cash crop of tobacco rather than rice. Little to no gardening is pursued during the cold season when most villages along the river produce carrots, manioc, potatoes, squash, beans, tomatoes, eggplant, and sweet potatoes. This is probably the cause of the 16.1% rate of acute malnutrition in children under five—a rate higher than found in crisis regions of Niger during the 2004-2005 locust/price/flooding induced drought and food crunch. Mali’s global acute malnutrition rate is 13.3%. This measures height versus weight. When you take into consideration chronic malnutrition or stunting, the statistics point to a larger problem: 33.9% of Malian children 6 – 59 months are chronically malnourished. With high fertility rates and low literacy rates I wonder without industry and most support coming in from NGOs or Malians abroad (and by abroad that includes not just Western countries but also Cote d’Ivoire or Senegal as well where many Malian men flee to find work), how will things improve? The global increases of prices, climate change and disease epidemics are all working against these farmers and herdsmen. The Prefet in Bourem tells us there has not been a sufficient amount of rain this year either. And granaries, which were filled in 2005, are empty. Infrequently WFP or a local group funds a few tons of millet or rice for the granaries but it is never enough. Not only that, but it is not local production and therefore hardly sustainable. A sack of millet (20kg) is up to 15,000F and rice sells at 550F per kilo (up from 300F in 2006). He feels like food security is a question of simple survival—no planning, no economizing. In this inch’allah culture it is for God to decide what tomorrow will bring.

Bamba itself is lovely. The roller coaster ride through the dunes was difficult to bear, but suddenly when you cross the Zan-Zan plain (where camels and goats roam) and surmount the last thread of dunes it is the vast flood plain and rice paddies of the Niger dotted with fishermen and farmers that lies before you. Hippos peak their ears out of the water and kingfishers dive for lunch.

In between visits to the Mayor, village level health centers, and the radio I enjoyed speaking with the locals as facilitated by my Songhoy (evidently being close to the origins of the ethnicity in Ansongo—only 40km from the former seat of Koukia where the askias or kings resided during the Songhoy empire—I speak a pure koyraboro versus Bamba-borey speak a mix of Gao šenni and Timbutu ciini--note the difference even for the word for "language"). A man approached the butcher where I was buying meat for lunch and says Bonjour! so I reply to him in Songhoy. Eh! He goes. “You scared me! How does an anasara come to speak our language?” I told him how long I’ve been here and where I used to work. He says, “Now this is truly peace, thank you.” He appreciated that Peace Corps bothers to actually give us the tools to work with locals. The women selling spices and oil also enjoyed very much meeting me. Especially because when they asked, “Why, what will you be cooking?” And I replied that “Oh, you must be able to tell…look what I bought!” And she coyly goes “No, you tell me!” So I starting explaining the traditional fried-rice dish surruntu I’d be cooking. Laughs all around. The salt vendor asked the Oxfam guardian I was with (a local who watches our house for us in between missions) if he has himself a hondo yooizo or “a camel calf from the hills”—in Bamba ciini this is equivalent to “chick” or young lady. I think I made good first impressions particularly at the Radio Zan-Zan where I will be working.

Using the resources provided by GeekCorps and USAID, we’ll be producing a weekly show on good health and hygiene practices with the goal of helping families reduce the rates of malnutrition in village. I worked on improving the treatment of malnutrition in Ansongo and now I will focus on prevention. I have designed a T-shirt, written short radio messages to play daily along with a “grabber” which I may or may not be singing…and soon with the help of an artist troupe from Bourem we will launch the program with a grand soirée at the Mayor’s éstrade. The mayor himself is very content and laughed how I am indeed Peuhl with the name of Cissé but also because of my stature (tall and thin). Even another doctor on our team has taken to calling me Peuhlette. I am excited to work in Bamba—despite warnings from Ansongo folk that these are difficult people—and hope with village and household visits we will get a sense if people are listening and taking our advice. The Radio director believes if you can succeed in Bamba, you can succeed anywhere.