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.