Hello again,
Just finished up my first 2 weeks at my new site in Kolondieba. My living arrangements have improved markedly and it looks as though this year will be much more productive than last. My role as an environment volunteer has shifted to that of a small enterprise development (SED) volunteer. In that regard, I'm working with a womens association based in Kolondieba. They produce shea products, mostly soap, and are working on a 1 hectare garden which will be used exclusively by association members. I have a new homologue, Daoda Mariko. He's the husband of one of the association members as well as the association's book keeper. Unfortunately, all of the women are illiterate. I also have a host family (finally), easy access to potable water, a good market right down the road, and a much more vibrant community in general.
My house is worlds better as well. It's a cement structure rather than mud brick so I haven't had any of the old pest problems. Goodbye rats, bats, and scorpions. It's a bit bigger as well; I have 15 ft high ceilings but still just two rooms. Still don't have electricity or running water. Although, many people around me have electricity. In fact, I've been watching the Africa Cup with my neighbors every night... Mali's national team is doing pretty well. After they beat Botswana last night they'll definitely make it out of the group stage. Anyways, there's a water pump 100 feet outside of my concession, so again, life is a lot easier in that regard as well.
The host family is great. There are a couple older women, a few younger women, three or four boys in their teens and three or four kids under the age of four. Still trying to figure out who really does live there and what the actual relationships are. Malians call everyone their brothers or sisters, mothers or fathers out of respect so it's often hard to figure out and remember the real family tree. Obviously it's a pretty big concession to handle that many people. I feel like I went from one extreme to another: no host family and nobody in my concession to a huge host family and me sharing their concession. It can certainly be aggravating; like when I'm sitting outside reading my book and a kid decides to pop a squat 5 feet to my left and take a piss, then 5 minutes later another kid does the same thing 10 feet in front of me, or the constant crying and yelling that comes with four kids under the age of four. All in all, it's certainly a net positive though.
I've long since known that women pull far more than their fair share of the work in this country. Living with a Malian family, however, has really defined that for me. Whether they're crushing shea nuts, pounding corn or millet into flour, washing clothes by hand, looking after the children, making the meals, or whatever they never get a break. I must agree with Mr. Sapolsky: "If I had to make a list of who does the work in this country from most to least, it would go like this: Women > Children > Donkeys > Dogs > Men." Yes, it's good to be a man in Mali. But hey, all that tea isn't gonna drink itself, is it? Somebody's got to do it, as well as smoke those cigarettes (can't be a woman, that certainly means she's a prostitute) and keep Mali at the cutting edge of the fine art of conversation. My, they can talk a long time about nothing at all.
Going back to my women's association, I've observed and participated in 3rd world shea oil production. Shea is arguably the most important product in Mali and Senegal with some of the most potential to pull people out of poverty. After collecting nuts (Shea trees are everywhere in this country) they're left to dry under the sun for a couple days, then they're pounded with a machine into a syrup like liquid (the only machine that my women have at their disposal in the whole process). From there, it's a repetitive process of adding water, hand beating, and heating the product until they've reduced the nuts to their essential oil. After that, the oil gets added to whatever the final product is. In my women's case: soap. When I asked the women how I could best help them, they told me they wanted more machines. While at first this sounds like a good idea (and I certainly can't blame the women for wanting to lighten the work load a bit) I've realized that at this point with my women's association (they're pretty small time and unsophisticated just yet) they would never be able to turn a profit after buying the machines, even with Peace Corps paying for 70% which is our policy. Just paying for the gas to run the machine and general upkeep would probably negate any profits. I've been informed that I could be much more helpful if I work with them on improving the quality of their product and their marketing approach. Since I know very little about shea production and business in general, I'm going to do a tech exchange with another volunteer and members of his/her community. So, lot's of exciting stuff going on.
Well, I gotta go catch a bus back to my site so I'm out for now.
Oh yeah, today is one year to the day since I've come to Mali.
Hi-ho.
Peace and Love yo
Rege
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
1 Year Mark
Greetings all,
Where doth the time go? Hard to believe but February 2nd will mark my first year in country. I suppose I'm now one of the old heads in country as two classes of volunteers have been sworn in since I've arrived in Mali. Weirder yet, in 6 months my class will be the oldest one left in Mali. Anyways, let me catch you up on the last month or two.
I spent the holidays up in Mopti region which lies on the southern edge of the Sahara. Three fellow volunteers and I did a three day hike through the Bandiagara escarpment. The escarpment is part of "Dogon country" where the Dogon people, one of the most distinct ethnic minorities in Mali, have historically dwelt. This is my second trip up to this part of the country and it's undoubtedly my favorite part of Mali. I believe we covered about 35 k's over the 3 days. We started at the top of the Dogon plateau, hiked down through the escarpment, and then worked our way back up to the top. A man named Bebe, one of the locals, served as our guide. We spent our 2 nights sleeping in campements within villages we passed along the way. This area is Mali's biggest tourist attraction so it was quite easy finding a guide, who spoke English no less, and places to sleep. Campement is French for encampment and that's more or less what these places were. The word, however, is often used to describe hostels, eco-stays, and even hotels. The campements were quite basic in amenities, lacking even electricity and running water, but more than made up for it in character. Besides, fancy things like electricity would be more than out of place in this little corner of the world. It's a beautiful part of Mali and I hope I'll have another chance to hike through the area again.
New Year's is a big holiday here and we celebrated in fashion. About a dozen volunteers, myself included, rented a traditional river boat and floated around the Niger for a few hours, drinking beer and whiskey, shooting off fireworks, ringing in the new year, and of course almost blowing each other up. Nothing goes together like booze and explosives.
I suppose the biggest news I have to share is that I'm getting a new site on Monday. Site changes are quite common in Peace Corps as initial sites often don't work out for one reason or another. I realized when I first got to my old site back in April that it would provide more challenges than most volunteers encounter. I stuck it out until about mid November, but finally had to request a new site. Among other issues, my old site was a 46 K round trip (on my bike) from food, 4 K's from drinkable water, 23 K's from transport 15 K's from the next volunteer, and the water wells were empty for about 5 months out of the year. The final straw was when my counterpart moved to a different village to be with his wife and kids. Of course, I didn't come to Mali to keep anyone from their family but he obviously shouldn't have been my counterpart to begin with. So it took about two months from my initial request to actually get a new site, which is pretty standard. I'm moving to Kolondieba which was my market/post town. My best Malian friend lives in this town as well. All in all, I think it's a great opportunity and I'm excited to get a project or two underway before I'm out of here.
You may recall I had been planning a trip to Senegal for January but I've decided to scrap that even before I got a site change. Big events coming up though include the Festival sur le Niger; an annual, five day, West African, music and cultural festival in the old capital city, Segou. Some of the bigger acts include Babba Salla, Vieux Farka Toure, and Amadou & Miriam. That starts on February 15th. Then in April or May I'll be spending a couple weeks in Morocco. It's been far too long since I've seen an ocean and it'll be more than welcome come hot season. I'm currently savoring the last month or month and a half of cold season. It's generally in the low 80's during the day and drops down to the mid 50's at night. These days mid 50's is frigid for me.
Another bit of unfortunate news, I had my wallet stolen in Bamako about ten days ago. Most of the volunteers were at a bar called La Terrace for the newbies' swear in party. I had my wallet in a friend's purse which she left laying around somewhere. I lost about 27,000 cfa (about $50) some bank cards, ID, and what not. The worst part was having to file a police report and getting the bank cards and ID replaced. All in all, I didn't lose that much and worse things could happen. So, not that big of a deal.
Finally, for all the Steelers fans out there, I want to share a post with you from my fellow volunteer and good friend, Cary Fontana. All though he's from South Carolina, his family roots are in Pittsburgh and he's as big a Steeler fan as I've ever met. I know we're all still lamenting our early playoff exodus, but hopefully this story of Cary's attempts to extend Steeler Nation to West Africa will ease the pain. http://www.steelersdepot.com/2011/12/steeler-nation-steeler-world/
p.s. here are some links to the photos from my Dogon hike:
Where doth the time go? Hard to believe but February 2nd will mark my first year in country. I suppose I'm now one of the old heads in country as two classes of volunteers have been sworn in since I've arrived in Mali. Weirder yet, in 6 months my class will be the oldest one left in Mali. Anyways, let me catch you up on the last month or two.
I spent the holidays up in Mopti region which lies on the southern edge of the Sahara. Three fellow volunteers and I did a three day hike through the Bandiagara escarpment. The escarpment is part of "Dogon country" where the Dogon people, one of the most distinct ethnic minorities in Mali, have historically dwelt. This is my second trip up to this part of the country and it's undoubtedly my favorite part of Mali. I believe we covered about 35 k's over the 3 days. We started at the top of the Dogon plateau, hiked down through the escarpment, and then worked our way back up to the top. A man named Bebe, one of the locals, served as our guide. We spent our 2 nights sleeping in campements within villages we passed along the way. This area is Mali's biggest tourist attraction so it was quite easy finding a guide, who spoke English no less, and places to sleep. Campement is French for encampment and that's more or less what these places were. The word, however, is often used to describe hostels, eco-stays, and even hotels. The campements were quite basic in amenities, lacking even electricity and running water, but more than made up for it in character. Besides, fancy things like electricity would be more than out of place in this little corner of the world. It's a beautiful part of Mali and I hope I'll have another chance to hike through the area again.
New Year's is a big holiday here and we celebrated in fashion. About a dozen volunteers, myself included, rented a traditional river boat and floated around the Niger for a few hours, drinking beer and whiskey, shooting off fireworks, ringing in the new year, and of course almost blowing each other up. Nothing goes together like booze and explosives.
I suppose the biggest news I have to share is that I'm getting a new site on Monday. Site changes are quite common in Peace Corps as initial sites often don't work out for one reason or another. I realized when I first got to my old site back in April that it would provide more challenges than most volunteers encounter. I stuck it out until about mid November, but finally had to request a new site. Among other issues, my old site was a 46 K round trip (on my bike) from food, 4 K's from drinkable water, 23 K's from transport 15 K's from the next volunteer, and the water wells were empty for about 5 months out of the year. The final straw was when my counterpart moved to a different village to be with his wife and kids. Of course, I didn't come to Mali to keep anyone from their family but he obviously shouldn't have been my counterpart to begin with. So it took about two months from my initial request to actually get a new site, which is pretty standard. I'm moving to Kolondieba which was my market/post town. My best Malian friend lives in this town as well. All in all, I think it's a great opportunity and I'm excited to get a project or two underway before I'm out of here.
You may recall I had been planning a trip to Senegal for January but I've decided to scrap that even before I got a site change. Big events coming up though include the Festival sur le Niger; an annual, five day, West African, music and cultural festival in the old capital city, Segou. Some of the bigger acts include Babba Salla, Vieux Farka Toure, and Amadou & Miriam. That starts on February 15th. Then in April or May I'll be spending a couple weeks in Morocco. It's been far too long since I've seen an ocean and it'll be more than welcome come hot season. I'm currently savoring the last month or month and a half of cold season. It's generally in the low 80's during the day and drops down to the mid 50's at night. These days mid 50's is frigid for me.
Another bit of unfortunate news, I had my wallet stolen in Bamako about ten days ago. Most of the volunteers were at a bar called La Terrace for the newbies' swear in party. I had my wallet in a friend's purse which she left laying around somewhere. I lost about 27,000 cfa (about $50) some bank cards, ID, and what not. The worst part was having to file a police report and getting the bank cards and ID replaced. All in all, I didn't lose that much and worse things could happen. So, not that big of a deal.
Finally, for all the Steelers fans out there, I want to share a post with you from my fellow volunteer and good friend, Cary Fontana. All though he's from South Carolina, his family roots are in Pittsburgh and he's as big a Steeler fan as I've ever met. I know we're all still lamenting our early playoff exodus, but hopefully this story of Cary's attempts to extend Steeler Nation to West Africa will ease the pain. http://www.steelersdepot.com/2011/12/steeler-nation-steeler-world/
p.s. here are some links to the photos from my Dogon hike:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2955767779547.153124.1422031646&type=3&l=cfabde922d
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2957199775346.153160.1422031646&type=3&l=98d5b1882d
That's all I got for now. Uhhhh see ya.
P&L,
Rege
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
I'm Not Dead, I Just Had Malaria
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
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
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
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
Sunday, July 3, 2011
5 Months
Salutations,
So, a little over a month ago, I decided to head to my regional capital, Sikassoville, for a weekend. Once I bike to a main road and catch a bus, it's about a 3 hour ride to this city. I made it there uneventfully, and enjoyed a relaxing weekend away from my site. Come Monday, we (me and the volunteer closest to my site) attempted to head back to our sites. Malian transportation is always shall we say 'interesting', yet, there are varying levels of 'interesting'. In a previous email, I described Bashi cabs. They're the gutted vans you can find in most cities, hauling upwards of 20 people at a time about town. Imagine some p.o.s. vehicle entirely gutted, even the upholstery has been ripped out. It's really just a metal death box with wooden planks for seats. If you're on facebook, you can see pictures of it. It's the green van. So anyways, we had intended on taking an actual bus back to site, but that's not how things worked out. After leaving the transit house in Sikassoville, we found a taxi and had him take us to transportation going to our market town, Kolondieba. The transportation he found for us was of the Bashi variety. Now, I don't mind riding in the death box to get from one part of town to another, often it's the only choice, but I try to avoid it for longer travels. So Thera (the other volunteer) and I decided to head to the bus station and find less direct, yet safer transportation. After getting to the bus station, we bought tickets and were told the bus would arrive shortly. Not long after, another taxi showed up and the the bus station guy told us to get in and the taxi would take us to the bus. So we did, and of course the taxi took us right back across town to the first bashi we turned down. So, bashi it was. It took some time to get out of town as we picked up some more people, various sacks of vegetables, and of course livestock. Once we finally got on the highway, things went pretty smooth. however, the highway connecting sikassoville to my neck of the woods isn't finished yet so at various points vehicles have to take dirt paths running parallel to the highway. As soon as we got onto one of these dirt paths, the bashi blew a tire. It took a good couple hours for them to get somebody on a scooter to go find a tire from God knows where. But eventually, they did and we were back on the road. Not long after we got moving again, I noticed we turned off the dirt path leading towards our destination onto something that could only be described as a goat trail heading deep into the sub-saharan bush. After an hour of some of the roughest terrain I've ever seen a vehicle traverse, we rolled up in some remote shanty town. Now, my village is poor, but at least they have mud brick huts. This village had straw huts with bits of garbage tied together for roofs. It was unlike anything we'd seen in Mali to date. I was quite certain that it was a Cote d'Ivoirian refugee camp, but I later found out it was a mining camp and my bashi was dropping off some vegetables there. My bashi also decided to stop there for about 4 hours so they could repair it. By time we left the mine camp it was already dark and long story short, it took 12 hours to travel a route that should take 3.
Those of you on Facebook have probably seen the pics of some of my new found Malian friends. Since rainy season started, I've seen scorpions bigger than my iTouch, tarantulas as big as my fist, and swarms upon swarms of flying termites. Oh, and sun spiders... they can run at speeds of 10 miles an hour. During our In-Service Training, we had a session on snakes in Mali. There's a boatload including three venomous families. There are 4 types of Cobras, a few types of Vipers, and 2 mambas. I've been told that Cobra bites are seldom fatal and Viper bites, especially the puff adder, are more venomous, but still carry a low fatality rate. Mambas on the other hand... Tomorrow I'm heading up to a town called Manantali where there'll be a big 4th of July party. It's about 10 hours west of my site and there are baboons, hippos, another variety of monkeys, and many snakes. Hopefully I'll return with some good photos.
Well, it's been awhile since I've been there and I won't get back till July 7th or 8th. I had two weeks of In-Service Training at Tubani So and since then I've been doing a bit of travelling around the Bamako area before heading towards Mananteli. Rainy season was just starting as I left so it'll be full on upon my return. I hope the goats haven't gotten into my garden...but they probably did. Water shouldn't be as much of an issue now that the wells have refilled and that will certainly make life easier. I have to admit, spending close to a month with other toubabs, travelling about the country, and having some wicked parties makes the thought of returning to site a bit daunting. There's certainly work to be done though. One of the first things I'll do (after my language skills allow it) is something called PACA (Participatory Analysis for Community Action). It's a series of tools and activities that my village and I will employ to precisely figure out what resources they have, what challenges they face, what they need most, and how they can obtain those needs. I also want to get our village pump fixed asap, for my own needs as well as theirs. I'm tired of going 2 k's to the next village just to get drinkable water.
Hard to believe, but it's been just about 5 months since I arrived in country. As always, time is flying by and I'm accruing crazy experiences on the reg. I know it's been awhile since my last update, so let me try to fill you in on some of the highlights from my last 6 weeks...
Malian Transportation:
 |
| Bashi a.k.a. deathbox |
Malian Night Clubs:
Believe it or not they do exist in Mali, and they are hilarious. Most Malians wouldn't go to a nightclub for religious reasons, and even those who do go are still strongly under the influence of cultural norms. So, public displays of affection don't really exist in Mali. For that matter, I don't think private displays of affection happen either, but that's a whole 'nother topic. The point being, Malians' idea of having fun at a night club involve all the men dancing individually into mirrors on one side of the club and all the women doing the same on the other side of the club. Priceless.
Malian Music Culture:
Mali has an incredibly rich musical culture and history (even if they are terrible dancers). Ali Farka Toure is probably the most famous Malian musician as well as one of the greatest guitarist who ever lived, but he died a few years back. His son, Vieux Farka is phenomenal as well, and hopefully i'll be able to see him at some point in my service. I did, however, get to see Baba Salah a couple weeks ago. He played at an awesome little venue in Bamako. If you dig roots and blues, you should probably check him out.
Wildlife:
 |
| this is bigger than my itouch |
 |
| this is as big as my fist |
Site:
 |
| kids from my village |
My Outlook:
So, 5 months in and my outlook is a bit more realistic. When we first arrived in country, we were all bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to bring Mali to the 1st world or something, and refused to admit there was any problem in this country that could bring us down even for a minute. I can tell you, I don't feel that way anymore. It does require a conscious effort at times to remain positive about accomplishing real development in a place like Mali. I often ask myself, what the hell am I doing here and will I help anyone during my service? Sometimes you see things here that are so ass-backwards, it can be a bit demoralizing. As I get to know my class of volunteers and the older ones, I'm realizing these feelings are all quite normal in the Peace Corps experience. I also think right now is a particularly difficult time in my service. After 5 months, I've learned a lot of the language, I'm getting integrated into my village, in short I've done a lot. And yet, there's nothing tangible I can point to and say, "there, I've accomplished that". It will come, I know that. But for the time being it's a bit frustrating. In development work, I think it helps morale to focus on the individual rather than the society at large. So here's an anecdote to highlight that point: Most of the Peace Corps administration positions are filled by Malians, including the positions in charge of each sector (environment, health, education, small-enterprise development, and water sanitation). The person in charge of the small-enterprise development sector is a man named Yacouba. About 35 years ago, there was a Peace Corps volunteer in Yacouba's village and his father was the volunteer's counterpart. Of course, Yacouba was just a kid at this point. I'm not sure what if any physical evidence remains of that volunteer's service. I don't know if he or she helped them build a school or a hospital, improve food security, better water sanitation, etc. What I do know is that that volunteer left an impact on Yacouba's father. He realized the importance of an education for his kids. Now, 35 years later, Yacouba has lived in the States, received a Masters degree in international development, and has returned to his country, working year round to improve Mali's lot. 75% of Mali is illiterate, Imagine how many Malians have a Masters. I think change of this nature is the cornerstone of any development work, including Peace Corps. It's slow moving, and often times you can't tell that you've done anything at all. Then again, it's rather arrogant and patronizing to assume these are my problems to fix. They aren't. In the end, Mali's problems need to be fixed by Malians just as America's problems need to be fixed by Americans. Hopefully, I can help a couple people out during the next two years while not losing sight of the importance of such work.
I'll leave it there for now. As always, I hope everything is going well in your lives.
L&P
Rege
Monday, May 16, 2011
I Eat my Noodles with Mustard and Shea Butter
Greetings all,
It's been a good month since my last email and I'm sure you're all wandering how your favorite ex-pat is fairing. Well, rest assured I'm still alive and well! I won't lie though, this first month at site has been a real challenge, perhaps even more so than I initially expected. There are a number of factors at play here, individually none of which are all that terrible, but combined can make life, err difficult. 1st, As the subject line implies, the food situation here is a bit sub-par. The problem is not that I don't have money to buy food, but rather, there is no food to buy with my money. As a result, my diet generally consists of either rice or noodles 3 times a day. Condiments have become my new best friends and are currently my most valued possessions. I'm not certain I'd be able to maintain sanity were it not for the wondrous inventions of mustard, ketchup, and co. Oh the little things... 2nd, It's still ridonkulously hot, although not quite as bad as it was a few weeks ago (one day i drank 8 liters of water and still got dehydration). 3rd, Going a month without speaking English... kind of makes you want to punch someone in the face at times. Especially when you're trying to learn a language as vastly different as Bambara. I've found a Bambara tutor in my village and I've been meeting with him (Bazu) everyday for an hour or two. There are all the usual frustrations one might expect from this situation: I'm still quite limited in the language, Bazu speaks less English than I do Bambara, and the end result is probably more comical than educational.
Having Bazu as a teacher has led me to some interesting observations on Malian education. Most notably, that nobody in this country really reads or writes Bambara all that well. The reason being that Bambara was a strictly oral language up until about 50 years ago. And, it was largely western academia that spearheaded the movement to turn it into a written language. In schools, if you're lucky enough to be in one past the 4th grade, you pretty much stop learning Bambara and start learning French, Furthermore, the higher your education goes the more everything is taught in French. As a result, someone like Bazu, who's pretty highly educated by Malian standards, can speak Bambara fluently as well as read, write, and speak French fluently. Yet he struggles to read his original language and often times misinterprets entire sentences and ideas, which I may realize hours later, much to my chagrin, rendering all that studying pointless. On the other hand, those who don't go/stay in school speak only Bambara or some other local language, but they cant read or write anything. Another interesting point is how swiftly and dramatically dialogues change. Even from villages a couple miles apart, there can be surprising differences in the way Bambara is spoken. This is due, again, to Bambara being an oral language as well as the fact that over 50 languages are spoken in Mali, Bambara being just the most common. Many people in my village are of the ethnic group, Fulani, and speak Fula as their first language. As a result, my little corner of Mali speaks Bambara with an interesting touch of Fula. As you can imagine, with over 50 different languages there are countless ways in which regional and local dialogues can evolve.
Another source of irritation, for me as well as the village, is that all our wells have gone dry and the one pump in town seems to be broken. Everybody has to go to the next village down the road (about a mile) to get their water. Have you ever tried to limit your water usage to under 3 gallons a day? that includes drinking water, cooking, washing dishes, bathing water, water for my garden and compost pile, oh and don't forget in this country... water+left hand = toilet paper. We don't want to run out of toilet paper, now do we? It's always interesting at the end of the day trying to prioritize your needs based on how much water you have left.
It's not all doom and gloom though. In fact, the dog days are almost over. We've gotten rain 3 days this week including one hell of a gully washer 2 nights ago. By the end of the month hot season will be over, rainy season will be upon us, the heat will drop, food will grow, wells will fill, and an angel will get its wings, or something like that anyways. Oh, and how can I forget the other factor that makes life livable during this time of the year? MANGOS!!! The most beautiful ones you've ever seen. Luscious, sweet, delicious, ripe, plentiful mangos! I probably eat 7 or 8 a day. There are more mangos in Mali during hot season than people know what to do with. Literally, some volunteers spend their whole 2 years trying to help Malians create a market for all the excess mangos that end up just rotting on the ground. In lieu of a refrigerator, I've started my own little preservation operation. I started my first batch of wine last month, and what better wine to make than mango wine? For a first attempt, I'm quite proud of it, especially considering my lack of appropriate tools, and 100+ degree weather everyday. I should give this batch more time to mature, but it's certainly drinkable and I'm eager to apply the lessons learned from this first process to more fruitful creations.
As much as I may gripe about the difficulty in learning this language, my abilities are improving, slowly but surely. Yesterday and today were especially successful as I navigated public transportation, banking, shopping, and general conversation with Malians with uncommon ease. Lastly, there are a couple more upsides to going through all these difficulties now. 1st, if I can make it through the foodless, drought laden drudgery that is hot season with very limited Bambara while still adjusting to the severe lack of English speaking and overall culture discomfort, then I'm more certain than I ever was that I can handle whatever the next 2 years throws my way. 2nd, in terms of getting work done as a volunteer, this turned out to be a great time to come to Mali. Nobody does any work during hot season, for good reason. Come rainy season, Malians are too busy planting their fields to devote much time to some project a crazy toubob (me) wants to start. The best time to get things done is during the cool/dry season which goes from mid October to mid February. Come that time, I should be well adjusted to my life in Mali and I will have a much stronger grip on the language. In the meantime, I'll eat my noodles with mustard and shea butter, sip my mango wine, and try not to go crazy.
P & L
Rege
It's been a good month since my last email and I'm sure you're all wandering how your favorite ex-pat is fairing. Well, rest assured I'm still alive and well! I won't lie though, this first month at site has been a real challenge, perhaps even more so than I initially expected. There are a number of factors at play here, individually none of which are all that terrible, but combined can make life, err difficult. 1st, As the subject line implies, the food situation here is a bit sub-par. The problem is not that I don't have money to buy food, but rather, there is no food to buy with my money. As a result, my diet generally consists of either rice or noodles 3 times a day. Condiments have become my new best friends and are currently my most valued possessions. I'm not certain I'd be able to maintain sanity were it not for the wondrous inventions of mustard, ketchup, and co. Oh the little things... 2nd, It's still ridonkulously hot, although not quite as bad as it was a few weeks ago (one day i drank 8 liters of water and still got dehydration). 3rd, Going a month without speaking English... kind of makes you want to punch someone in the face at times. Especially when you're trying to learn a language as vastly different as Bambara. I've found a Bambara tutor in my village and I've been meeting with him (Bazu) everyday for an hour or two. There are all the usual frustrations one might expect from this situation: I'm still quite limited in the language, Bazu speaks less English than I do Bambara, and the end result is probably more comical than educational.
Having Bazu as a teacher has led me to some interesting observations on Malian education. Most notably, that nobody in this country really reads or writes Bambara all that well. The reason being that Bambara was a strictly oral language up until about 50 years ago. And, it was largely western academia that spearheaded the movement to turn it into a written language. In schools, if you're lucky enough to be in one past the 4th grade, you pretty much stop learning Bambara and start learning French, Furthermore, the higher your education goes the more everything is taught in French. As a result, someone like Bazu, who's pretty highly educated by Malian standards, can speak Bambara fluently as well as read, write, and speak French fluently. Yet he struggles to read his original language and often times misinterprets entire sentences and ideas, which I may realize hours later, much to my chagrin, rendering all that studying pointless. On the other hand, those who don't go/stay in school speak only Bambara or some other local language, but they cant read or write anything. Another interesting point is how swiftly and dramatically dialogues change. Even from villages a couple miles apart, there can be surprising differences in the way Bambara is spoken. This is due, again, to Bambara being an oral language as well as the fact that over 50 languages are spoken in Mali, Bambara being just the most common. Many people in my village are of the ethnic group, Fulani, and speak Fula as their first language. As a result, my little corner of Mali speaks Bambara with an interesting touch of Fula. As you can imagine, with over 50 different languages there are countless ways in which regional and local dialogues can evolve.
Another source of irritation, for me as well as the village, is that all our wells have gone dry and the one pump in town seems to be broken. Everybody has to go to the next village down the road (about a mile) to get their water. Have you ever tried to limit your water usage to under 3 gallons a day? that includes drinking water, cooking, washing dishes, bathing water, water for my garden and compost pile, oh and don't forget in this country... water+left hand = toilet paper. We don't want to run out of toilet paper, now do we? It's always interesting at the end of the day trying to prioritize your needs based on how much water you have left.
 |
| organic mango cooperative in Bougouni |
 |
| urine? no. just mango wine |
P & L
Rege
Sunday, April 10, 2011
End of PST
Salutations,
So, as the title states, I'm just about done with Pre-Service Training in Mali and about to be sworn in as a volunteer, 2 days from now to be exact. My time at homestay with my host family has come to an end and they will surely be missed. I look forward to visiting them again one day when I'm actaully able to have a full conversation in Bambara. Speaking of which, I've passed my final language test and scored intermediate-mid (whatever the hell that means), so I'll be able to survive on my own when I reach my new digs. We're not supposed to leave our site for the first 2 months once we're installed. This is to ensure we get a strong grasp on our new community's culture and improve language skills right off the bat. While 2 months away from another english speaker (not to mention other luxuries) is a bit daunting, I'm certainly looking forward to being an actual volunteer... a process I started well over a year ago. Before that begins, however, there are some festivities at hand. There's not much on my schedule for today aside from laundry... which takes a bit longer when you use a washboard. Tomorrow is our swear in party. Normally this takes place the night we get sworn in but because our class is being sworn in by President Amadou Toumani Touré at the Presidential palace, there's been some logistical issues. So, as you might imagine, tomorrow will be a pretty massive party. From what I understand, most if not all of the 150+ volunteers already in country will be joining my class of 61 soon-to-be volunteers. We'll be starting the day at the Ameriki Club... a former Marine house that's been converted to accomodate American expats. There's an in-ground swimming pool, barbeque, bar, tennis and basketball courts, etc. After that, we're free to do as we like and we've all reserved hotel room in Bamako. Then on Tuesday we'll arive at the President's pad at 5:00 pm for the swear in and then return to Tubani So (training compound) for a nice dinner with all the senior staff and admn from Peace Corps Mali as well as the U.S. ambassador.
A lot has happened since my last email update, but unfortunately nothing really flows together as a single narrative like my site visit. It's all been a bunch of mini adventures and inside humor/experiences that probably won't translate that well via email, but I'll try my best. I will say that my class has really bonded quite well in the last week. There's definately a plurality of people that you would "expect" to be in the peace corps. That being said though, I'm still surprised by the amount of diversity in our group. When we all first met in D.C. I couldn't imagine what business some of my fellow volunteers had volunteering for the peace corps. Everyone seems to bring their own unique experiences and abilities to the table though, and I think we'll all be able to do some good work over the next 2 years.
I'm getting more familiar with navigating Bamako. In the last week, I've gone into the city using public transportation several times. Usually, I'll take something called a sutrama into town. There are thousands of these all over Mali. Imagine one of those molester vans you see in Law & Order, but painted green, gutted aside from a metal floor and a wood bench that raps around the interior, and open holes where the windows should be. These sutramas cruise around on a certain route picking people up whereever they can. Oh, you're also usually sharing your ride with about 20+ Malians by time you reach your destination. The sutrama line ends in what's called the Sugu ba...translation: big market. Big is an understatement. I'm not sure if any of you have had the pleasure of visiting a major 3rd world market. I can assure you, it's an experience you won't forget. You're surrounded by the lovely aromas of burning garbage, rotting sewage, animal shit, pollution, and exhaust. There are taxis, sutramas and motor-bikes flying by everywhere, a million people meandering about in every direction, and a million more people trying to sell you whatever they can. It's fun for awhile, but more than an hour or so and I can't wait to get the hell out of there.
Well, there are certainly more stories to tell, but I'm struggling to get them across via email... that and it's breakfast time. I'll leave it there for now. I leave Tubani So for good, bright and early Wednesday morning (late Tuesday night for yinz guys). Hope all is well in your worlds!
Peace & Love,
Rege
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