Greetings,
First off, I'll stop being a liar by claiming that I'm going to send out updates more regularly. Clearly, I'm not. Now that I've established something of a routine and the luster of Africa has worn a bit, I'm afraid to report that I can no longer pump out epic tales at my former rate. Secondly, I'm sending this post out via email because I don't think Peace Corps would be too keen on some of the things I'm going to write about. Perhaps I'll post an edited version on my blog later.
So I had malaria about three weeks ago. I can honestly say it was the worst experience of my life. The first couple days my symptoms were quite mild and I didn't realize I had anything serious. Eventually, I started to get high fevers that would cycle in and out. Malaria's symptoms tend to vary widely in any given case. If there is any constant, however, it's that whichever symptoms you have tend to cycle in and out on 3 to 4 hour rotations. So I believe it was 3 Fridays ago that my ailment was getting serious. I had a fever of 101 and hadn't had an appetite for a couple days. Since about a week prior I had been planning to head to a relatively close city, Sikasso, as I had agreed to help a couple volunteers with a project. Of course, Peace Corps would have wanted me to notify them, then haul ass to Bamako where they could observe me. I never did go to Bamako nor tell the Peace Corps that I had malaria (the main reason I'm not posting this on my blog). Regardless of whether I went to Bamako or Sikasso, I first had to bike the 24 k's out of my village and to the highway. Normally this trek takes me about an hour and 15 minutes. This time, it took me over 2 and a half hours. Luckily, the fever hadn't cycled in, nevertheless, I can't recall ever feeling weaker in my life. Amongst the malaria (if I'm not mistaken the main way the parasite attacks your body is by destroying red blood cells until you go into kidney failure ) not eating, and having biked 46 k's two days prior... well, it was a pretty miserable bike ride. I felt more or less ok until I made it into Sikasso but the next three days were hell. My fever, now around 103 degrees, would cycle in and out 2 or 3 times a day for 3 to 4 hour spans. When they hit I couldn't even move. I just laid on a couch with a blanket over me and shivered uncontrollably in a room that was probably 110 degrees. By that point I had realized I probably should have gone to Bamako after all. Bamako, however, was now at best 5 and a half hours away by bus. As you might imagine from some of my previous posts, bus rides in Mali can be a harrowing experience in their own right let alone with malaria to boot. I ended up consulting a couple volunteers who had already had malaria and took the medication that the Peace Corps doctors prescribed. Long story short I was over it in about 48 hours. I think one of the most striking aspects of the experience was that when I was in a cycle, especially towards the end when I was utterly exhausted, I literally had no ability to imagine life as being enjoyable. I tried to recall good memories from the past, both in and out of Africa as well as focusing on things I'd been looking forward to doing in the near future. All of it to no avail. That feeling only ceded with the malaria. So yeah, good times!
Otherwise, life here has been pretty normal, at least by my current standards. Projects are still going frustratingly slowly. After about 3 months of trying to start a pump project in my village, I finally got an estimate from the Malian in charge of the Peace Corps water sanitation sector. In addition to the estimate was a note telling me that this company will not come to my village as it's too far away for them. So now I'm trying to find pump construction companies a bit closer to my neck of the woods. About the only projects I have been successful with thus far are smaller ventures that dont require peace corps admn assistance. I've helped a couple more volunteers complete world maps at schools and hand washing murals as well as hand washing stations. I'm also working with a couple volunteers doing a weekly radio program from our market town, Kolondieba. So far, we've addressed ways to combat malnutrition, personal hygene, and malaria prevention (perhaps I'm not the best person for that last one).
I'd like to address dental hygene during our next radio program as this next story will demostrate its need... So, about a month ago I was just chillin in my concession, reading some books, when a woman and her 5 year old son walked in to see my homologue, Sitafa. Little did I know Sitafa was the village dentist. I'm not sure exactly what was wrong with the kid but he looked like he had a baseball stuck in the right side of his mouth. Sitafa preceded to scurry around the concession until he was able to find a nail. Next, he drew a 3 x 3 grid in the sand. He followed this by breathing gently on the nail, whispering some sort of prayer and then began sticking the nail into different squares of the grid he just etched. Everytime he'd stick the nail in a square, he'd ask the kid if any pain was alleviated. Finally, Sitafa found what must have been the correct square, hammered it all the way into the ground, erased the grid and sent the kid and his mother on their way. To which I just shook my head in disbelief and returned to my reading. Couldn't have made that up if I tried.
Seli Ba, one of the biggest Muslim holidays of the year, wrapped up yesterday. I can't say what it is Seli Ba is actually a celebration of but I can tell you it was a hell of a time. Just about every family slaughters a couple sheep and it's a non stop meat fest for three days. Interspersed between all that meat are drum circles, dancing, and guys who dress up as "kono wulus" (bird dogs). They dawn some traditional African masks, get all done up, and run around trying to whack kids with sticks. One of them actually got me pretty good on the arm. Immediately, he and about 17 other Malians were apologizing profusely and telling me that they were honestly just trying to beat the children. Ah, Mali. Later that evening a DJ set up shop and we were all jamming to some Malian tunes. After awhile I tried to get some of my own music playing. Perhaps I should have seen this coming, but rather than everybody dancing to the new music, all 200 Malian villagers at the party thought it more fun to stand and watch me and another volunteer dance like fools. It was most excellent.
November 2nd marked 9 months in country. I'm now more than a third of the way through my service. The past couple months have made me a bit more cynical and apathetic. That however, is quite normal in this experience. I'm quickly approaching the one year mark and from everything I've heard, it's the toughest part of the service. Most volunteers, myself included, don't feel they have enough to show for all that time spent. You start to get a little sick of being in the 3rd world, miss home, etc. etc. Additionally, with all my time to sit and read lofty tomes on morality, humanity, and social justice as well as ponder the mysteries of the universe (and equally perplexing, development work) certain questions arise: What am I doing here? Am I making a net positive or negative impact on this society? Am I a good volunteer? Is western society really that much better? Do I really want to introduce all the downsides of the culture from which I hail? Can the planet handle the 3rd world catching up to 1st world levels of natural resource consumption? Does that concern trump the basic dignity that people everywhere, including Mali, deserve? On the otherhand, is cultural stasis the answer for these people? What kind of perception of America am I giving to my village? What will be the long term, unintended effects of my 2+ years spent in this country? Where does one draw the line between cultural relativism and human rights abuse? Why do I feel like a neo colonialist at times? Is the fact that I often think all these decisions/problems and their effects lie in my hands a sign that my ego has grown so dangerously large that I should have my head examined? Probably.
My time here continues to be some of the most challenging and rewarding of my life and often for reasons I'd never have guessed. There are days I want to pull out my hair and days when this country and its people inspire the hell out of me. I can't believe a third of my service is already over and I know the next few months will go even quicker. We're gonna throw some big parties for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I'm going to vacation in Senegal in January, there's a huge music festival in February, and we just got the o.k. to travel to Cote d'Ivoire. So if nothing else, I should have a lot of stories to tell over the next few months. In the mean time, I'm gonna keep on truckin. Until next time, friends.
Peace and Love,
Rege
