Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Mopti, Ramadan, and a Quarter of my Service in the Bag

Hola,


Time for more tales from old Mali.  In my last email I mentioned rainy
season's arrival.  Rainy season did indeed start about two months ago,
but unfortunately it's turning out to be a very poor one.  Luckily
we're not drought ridden like Somalia, yet this lack of water is
certainly going to have an impact on the rest of the year.  All the
Malians I've spoken to are quite anxious about their harvests and food
security throughout the upcoming cold and hot seasons.  I had heard
horror stories from older volunteers about city and village roads
flooded with latrine run-off during August and September.  I don't
think that'll be a problem for me this year.  I would take it over a
poor harvest year if I could. Sadly for countries like Mali, there's
not much that can be done for weather and yields like this other than
to be more hungry than usual.

I took some time to travel around Mali a bit and gain a better image
of the place I've called home for the last six months.  Mali, I'm
finding, is almost as geographically diverse as it is ethnically.  I
started out heading west to Sikasso, near the border with Burkina
Faso, then headed north through Koutiala, Bla (no that's not a typo),
San, and finally into the Mopti region.  I spent a night in Koutiala
and then in San, but the focus of the trip was the Mopti region.  Once
I got there, I spent time in Sevare, Bandiagara, Fatouma, and
Mopti-ville.  The whole Mopti region is beautiful, especially the
Dogon country and Mopti-ville which sits right on the Niger River.
The Dogon people are one of the many minority ethnic groups in Mali.
They're more isolated from other ethnic groups and as such their
language and culture are a bit more distinct.  The region is a part of
the narrow geographic belt known as the Sahel, which runs from the
Atlantic to the Red Sea.  The Sahel is a transition zone between the
Sahara in the north and the Sudanian Savanna in the south.  I believe
I had previously mentioned that my village was in the Sahel, but it's
actually considered part of the savanna.  Although Mopti is
technically not in the Sahara, it's pretty damn close and dramatically
different from my neck of the woods.  On a side note, I've heard that
the Human Planet mini series features Mali in three different
episodes.  One covers the Kidal region which is way up near the border
with Algeria while the other two cover the Mopti region.  Anyways, it
looks and feels like a desert up there.  Most of the vegetation is
scrub brush and Gum Arabic trees.  Aside from that it's sand, red
dirt, naked rock outcroppings ranging from small hills to huge cliffs,
and a big, big sky.  Mopti gets the most western tourism in all of
Mali and probably all of inland West Africa.  That's no surprise
considering the world class hiking you can do there and ancient Dogon
ruins.  I'm sorry to say my camera was out of batteries during this
trip so I don't have any photos to post.  Fret not though, I'll
certainly be returning to the region.  Some of my best friends in
country live up there, gotta get in on the hiking, and Bandiagara is
where Mali volunteers usually congregate for Christmas.  Some
volunteers did a half day hike when I was there but I think I'm gonna
hold out till Christmas and have a proper three or four day outing.

I've been meaning to write about the ferocity of the storms here.
They're not coming as frequently as we'd like but they're unreal when
they do hit.  The thunderheads usually roll in quickly, especially for
storms that last as long as they often do here.  A couple minutes
before the rain starts pouring the temperature drops dramatically and
terrific winds pick up, easily over 60 mph.  Then it's pretty much a
flash flood.  Sandy soil doesn't drain all that well.  The rains are
even more of a spectacle up north where they are immediately preceded
by sand storms.  You just see this reddish brown monster eating up the
sky, coming at you faster than you've ever seen clouds move with the
dark thunderheads looming, barely visible above and behind.  The
volunteers who went on the half day hike got chased out of the cliffs
by one of these storms.

The holy month of Ramadan started up about two weeks ago.  In case you
haven't brushed up on your Islam lately. It's the ninth month of the
Muslim calendar (they use a 13 month lunar calendar) when they fast
from sun up to sun down for the purposes atonement, spiritual clarity,
and submission to God.  That means no food, no water, and no getting
frisky during daylight hours for a month.  While I haven't been
participating in the fasting, it's still a pain in my ass.  For
starters, there's way less food to be found during day light hours and
every Malian is turning into a huge curmudgeon.  I can't really blame
them though, especially when Ramadan falls in rainy season like this
year, for being cranky as hell.  I believe Eid ul-Fitr is the official
Arabic term for the celebration that follows the end of Ramadan.  It's
referred to as Tabaski (sp?) here in Mali.  I understand the streets
run red with sheep blood for the festival.  Older volunteers say you
barely get any meat for 360 days out of the year, but you make up for
it in a short week when Tabaski hits.  Needless to say, it's a fairly
popular celebration with us toubabs.

Hard to believe, but I'm just about a quarter through my service, give
or take a month.  Our official Close of Service (COS) date is left for
us to decide.  Some people wrap up a little sooner or a little later
based on how their projects are going vs. job prospects & grad school
starting up back home.  I imagine that most of the people from my
class will try to wrap up as soon as possible seeing as we have the
great fortune of suffering through three hot seasons if we COS exactly
24 months after being sworn in.  I'm trying to get my first major
project underway by getting my village a new pump.  All in all, it's a
pretty easy project which has been done by numerous volunteers in the
past.  It's just a matter of finding funding, probably via grants from
USAID, to get the old, broken pump taken out and a new one put in.  I
started talking to the Malian in charge of the Peace Corps water
sanitation sector but then took a 10 day tour of the north.  In that
time my counterpart, Sitafe, has taken time off to visit his family a
couple hours away and probably won't be back till the end of Ramadan.
Hopefully we won't have any more interruptions and can get this thing
rolling soon.  Well, that's the end of my story for now.  See ya next
time!


Love and Peace ya'll

Rege