Mariam goes mobile

I am feeling slightly better after taking Sudafed, ibruprofen, doxy, a vitamin and drinking 1L of water. The dust and crazy dust/wind storm we had in Bara has given me a serious head cold. Nevertheless, the Health-Relay Training in Bara was fantastic. Bara people are so motivated! They accepted to do a training without per diem (transport and food costs--a fact that has destroyed the concept of learning for learning's sake). When I arrived Kate and I went to market which was entertaining because a lot of people said, “Eh, Mariam, ni duu yow!” As if Kate who has lived in Bara for 8 months is MY guest! I guess a lot of Ansongo people come to the Bara market to sell goods. We make a good team, Mariam and Rafi. Her host mother is very sweet and reminds me of Zubbu. It's nice to be able to work outside of my site using the knowledge I've gained there.

Wafi the Relais President was adorable. An old man sporting a hot pink boubou. He gave feedback at the end of the training encouraging the relais to get out there and work now that they have this knowledge we have shared with them. I thanked them and said that "my heart was sweetened" by their enthusiasm.

I made the mistake of taking the overloaded Niamey-Gao bus and we broke down. The basketball girls, headed to La Semaine Régionale des Sports, Arts, et du Théâtre, passed me in their rented Bani buses. Ha.

James went with me to the Semaine Régionale opening. They gave me the Ansongo sign to hold. Which meant at one point when Ibrahim Alpha, the director of the youth programs in Ansongo, was parading us around I was the front of 500 some odd athletes (runners, basketball players, and footballers), actors and musicians from the four circles of Gao (Ansongo, Ménaka, Bourem and Gao). Might as well be front and center, people are going to look at me anyway. The governor, mayor and the president of the regional assembly all spoke. I got sun burned and thirsty standing out on the pitch.

Greeting

Spent a busy morning weighing babies—it was only me and Bébé due to the Easter Monday holiday. But you see, broussey people still come—they don’t know what Easter Monday is! So quite frankly the fonctionnaires should work anyway! Everyday here is practically chômé.

"It was let’s roast Mariam Day" at Aliou’s. I saw his brother Ibrahim at the hospital and threw out a War ga ban? but clearly that wasn’t good enough because I only greeted him in passing. I have to warmly shake people’s hands and say hello. Not even my joke about him being sick got points! So then all of them, even my teammate, laughing at their comments, was party to the roast. Conclusion: Mariam doesn’t greet. I walk with a purpose and do not greet people along the way. And if I hear my name often I don’t respond. I’m aloof. I chuckled knowing Pingping and Liang Bocong and Shaohua all used to say the same thing when I was in China. For me here, if someone yells Mariam! And I take the time to respond and all they say to me is Ay ga baa ni! "I love you!" Is that really worth my time? No.

Another afternoon spent talking about development. What is the solution? One, Aliou, if I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t be here! He says America needs to change their image in the world. Putting more money into Foreign Aid would help. And spending less on the military and fighting stupid wars. Extremists come from universities too—so education isn’the only solution. Aliou believes Mali has reason to hope. Look at how far it has come since Democratization efforts began in 1992? True, but it still has a long way to go. 

I believe the West is in a position to take risks to truly discover what works. But it seems we aren’t willing to get out of the current rut. Aliou says why not dredge the Senegal river to Kayes and suddenly Mali would have a seaport. Think and plan before execution, but even if it seems crazy at least it is something. God knows we’ve poured money into the Africa Project over 30 years and have yielded little. But never will you hear me say Mali is screwed. Why join PC, why work in development if you have no hope? There is a big difference between pragmatism and cynicism or hoplessness. Vision and hope are crucial to being pragmatic. Your logical well thought-out steps need a direction.

He is risen!

He is risen indeed! It is difficult here not observing Lent nor Holy Week and then suddenly having an Easter service without even Communion. We did sing Bambara songs about the resurrection at least. I wore my purple basin dress which Amina thought suits my figure, and which Aicha and Fadi couldn’t believe I wouldn’t wear stateside. It's just so nice! They exclaim. Then of course there was the extra attention from men—Mariam! Ay ga baa ni! Really?

Moussa came down with a Bible Institute guy Coulibaly who knows Aliou through another Bible Institute guy Abdulaziz. So they invited him for the service. When I told him later the sheep eating was at Ibrahim Denebele’s from 11:30 onwards he realized that was why no one was at the mission at noon. “So they wanted me to listen them to talk about Jesus?” Lahilay-alulahi! Goes Aliou. He was shocked. Ha. It is a shame he didn’t make it for lunch cause many non-christians were there. The Medecin Chef, Daou, friends/fellow teachers of Isa, Fadi, Aicha, Dr. Touré, Maimouni, and a handful of youth.

Moussa preached about how to know we believe in the resurrection and the life. 1. Jesus himself predicted his death and subsequent resurrection. 2. All four gospels say it precisely whereas they differ on other accounts. 3. There had to have been a reason Sunday became a holy day and the first day of the week. 4. The disciples went out and made the first Christians on account of the resurrection, why would they have said the Messiah had come and saved us otherwise? 5. The prophets saw it coming. Nothing as profound as “Keep your fork” but still a good sermon.

I was amused when presented with bread and sheep-intestin soup the men all turned to me and said "ladies first." We were eating with practically all the guests around one bowl. There had to have been 11 men and me. Then upon noticing I wasn’t really touching the meat they took a rib and put it on another plate and said for me to eat it. I am so babied here!

The TV taught us the bishop in Bamako led a lovely Easter service (they even do a vigil with a candle lighting—you know there is something to say for Catholic adherence to tradition) and that Osama bin Laden wishes Christians around the world a Happy Easter. Jesus is a prophet for them just not the most important. Tiny little difference ;)

Later we had delicious rice pilaf with mutton and tea and drinks. I heart Muslims who come just for the food. It is fellowshipping at least. The pastor put on this video of a family falling apart and then the children brought them to Jesus and it made it all better. Joy.

In the evening I spoke with Aliou and his brother about development and faith. He thinks Americans don’t have the capacity for faith. Like I must be a materialist/humanist. He thinks I believe in God but rely on what is measured and seen. I was annoyed cause Aliou was saying you only mke a choice to believe if you defy the norm and leave the tradition you were brought up in. So my teammate made a choice to be Pagan. I was simply born a Christian. True. But there was Confirmation and then going to church in college and still going to church in Mali. A lot of my friends did not continue the practice. Many give up faith (or maybe just the expression thereof) in college, but I didn’t. Nevertheless he still says all I was acting on was the influence of my parents and society. Fine. And you my Muslim friend?

Celebrity

I’m such a celebrity here! Going to go get bread for my spicy bean dip I got many a Mariam! A Salut! from Dr. Diarra passing on his moto; a cherie de moi! from the coffee guy who wants to go back to the states with me and be my servant; a bon soir! from Vieux at the bus station and a Ay no mille francs from some bold little garibou—who asks for 1000CFA? I refuse them even if they’re only begging for 25F!

Outliers

The biggest laugh Aliou has gotten out of Zubbu and all of us sitting around after dinner—what is it about full moons that makes us sit out and chat longer?—he said, Le français, ils cherchent que le travail et le dodo. Nous, ici nous cherchons de ne se reveiller plus. "The French, the try to simply work and sleep. Here we try and never get up again." Sad. We talk a lot about development. He asked me if I could pocket donor money instead of putting it in the hands of an idiot, would I pocket it? I countered with, did I know the person was an idiot before I got the funds? Yes. Ok, I would try to redistribute it according to plan to prevent bouffing. I personally wouldn’t seek to profit I told him. See, I’m not desperate enough to be corrupt. I know I’ll have a way to support myself in the future. Again; we talked about solidarity and how it perpetuates poverty. If you know there is always someone to fall back on you never work so hard to pull yourself out of poverty. They all agreed that though poverty may exist in the States it is a better life over there (Tué, Aliou and Tapshirou’s father).

They talked about older women who marry younger men and how rare it is. Agreed that the point of marriage was children but Aliou insisted you need love. Though even if the love that may have once been there dissipates, you stay together for the sake of the children. Kids are the fruit of love, he says. Too bad often it doesn’t seem true here—so once again Aliou’s opinions set him apart as an outlier in Malian society.

Heffalumps and woozles, oh my!

It began with the idea to go elephant stalking.

It ended with collapsing exhausted on a mat after counting our blessings descending from a truck piled high with millet sacks in the dead of night, shining our flashlights on the bumper to see what was left of the two donkeys we hit with a thunk-squelch, thunk-squelch once we had taken a 4x4 out in the moon-scape of a desert near Gossi, Mali (fearing for our lives thinking the tire blowout was a rifle rapport) to only crunch along sun-baked earth, crouch in sewer-lid sized tracks and ford knee-deep across muddy streams to eventually get vistas of a lifetime of a threatened but once majestic West Africa beastie.

Religious sharing

I had to drop some things off at Zubbu and Aliou’s so I walked back to church with Aliou. I asked him if he wanted to come. He reminds me in Islam you can falter or stray once and then come back when someone asks you to come back and be okay. But falter again, and it’s your head. Eegh. He told me the pastor at the church is going to hell because he is estranged from his father over religion: not how I see it, but okay. Still he is glad I am learning about Islam. He particularly wants for me to take back the idea that Muslims and Arabs and Islamists aren’t the same. He said what he likes most abut Islam is the emphasis it places on respecting the environment. You must slaughter animals in an appropriate manner, with little suffering to the animal. You must be a caretaker of creation. And even as the fires and death of the apocalypse approach you, you plant a tree.

After church, where Isa preached on John 17:1-26 when Jesus prays for us; we are worthy of his prayer but we must follow his commandments, I zipped off to Koukia where despite some technical difficulties I gave the same talk I gave at the women’s conference yesterday. I was pleased with feedback I received later in the day. I tried to add more on how certain types of prevention don’t work for everybody; so, be it condoms or fidelity each individual must find a method appropriate for him/her.

Later after lunch Aliou was asking—in between mediating two fights between the neighbor and his wives and the school boys who stay with him—if I find Islam to be true, would I convert? I said I read a lot about Buddhism and still am Christian. I found aspects of the faith which pleased me and others with which I disagreed. Christianity is similar for me though the general principles I can follow and it is the culture with which I am comfortable. So no conversion? He asks. Not likely.