I’ve never really written my own Christmas card, I’ve always been signed on to my parents card, but this year, with all of my travels and adventures I had I thought I could use my blog as a way to write my own Christmas update card.

So first and foremost Merry Christmas to all of my friends and family and random people who read my blog, and thank you for doing so. So here is a re-cap of 2011.

I rang in the New Year in Ghana with my boyfriend Mark and three other close friends. Accra, the capital of Ghana was extremely more developed than the capital of Guinea or Mali so we were all excited to have chines food and ice cream as our New Year’s Eve feast. Midnight was celebrated on a roof top bar, ducking and dodging ill exploding fireworks. New Year’s Day we went to the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf of Guinea. Our two week vacation was over and a 48 hour bus ride back to Mali with a quick 16 hour stop in Burkina Faso to see some friends was our next adventure. Surprisingly after about the first 10 hours of the bus trip your mind shuts off and you just fall into a daze and block out everything bad about West African public transport and you get through it. We were welcomed back to Mali by some very friendly boarder customs agents around 6 in the morning on January 4th, 2011.

In February the town I was living in, Segou had its annual music festival which is internationally famous (if you are into West African music). The quant city I love changes over night into a huge party filled with Ex-patriots and West Africans alike. The quite streets are alive with beer sellers and avocado sandwich ladies. I hosted six people at my house where they slept on my roof because of lack of space inside. We experienced an out of the ordinary cold front that week and experienced temperatures as cold as 60 degrees at night. Brr! I got some great souvenirs and listened to some great African music.

In April a good friend of mine from college came and visited me for a week. Molly in Mali was the tag line of the week. She enjoyed seeing my life, meeting my friends, my Malian family and experiencing a normal day in village. She spent several days in my town and a few nights at Marks village. It was a real pleasure of mine to be able to show someone a bit of my life here.

May brought in the hot season where temperatures rise as high as 125+ for two solid months. It’s a bear! There is nothing you can do to avoid heat that high, especially when you don’t have air conditioning. The only good thing about this year’s hot season was it wasn’t as bad as 2010’s hot season here temperatures were over 130 for three months.

One of Marks good friends from his American days came and visited us in July. It was nice to finally meet someone from Marks past. Since we started dating in Mali we hadn’t had a chance to meet anyone from the others past. AJ was a great sport, his luggage was lost on arrival, it was over 110 degrees and the city of Bamako was as dusty as always. Luckily luggage was found and our trip to Dogan country was able to continue. Mark, AJ, one other friend Kendra and I all did a one night hike through Dogan again. We chose a different route this time (Mark and I hiked Dogan in 2010) and got to see different villages and different cliff faces. Dogan, as always is a scary thing for me. I’m not much of a hiker and those deadly latters and bridges don’t agree with me. But somehow I suck it up and get through it. And in the end it is all worth it. AJ, Mark and I also went to Djenne, a historical village near Marks village what houses the world’s largest structure (a mosque) made out of mud.

I closed my service (COS) as a Peace Corps volunteer on July 27, 2011. It was a moment of pure happiness and extreme sadness. It is always hard to leave some place you love and leave the people who became your family. As crappy as the situation was that I ended up in Mali I will always look back fondly of the places I went and the people I knew. And thankfully with the internet I am able to keep in contact with my work colleagues and host family.

After a clean bill of health I was off to Spain with Mark for a two week adventure there. I had never been to Spain and really didn’t know what to expect. We landed in Madrid and after finding our way to our first hotel we walked the streets of Madrid in Aww of the architecture, the people, the smells, and the sounds. We sat down at this little restaurant in the middle of a square (with a fountain!) and indulged on pork and sangria. I literally ate so much pork sausage I thought I was going to be sick, but it was so worth it! After we re-awoke from our food coma we went to a grocery store for the first time in three years! Imagine you haven’t had options in three years and then you see aisles and aisles of choices. You would freak out too. It took Mark and I almost two full hours to pick out one type of cheese, one sausage and a loaf of bread (you really can’t make this up, it is sadly true). We took a day trip to Segovia to see the aqueducts and the castle there and tried suckling pig. It sounds gross but let me tell you what, it was delicious, so tender and flavorful. The city was great too, but that pig was to die for. Back in Madrid we stayed with a friend of a friend who was amazing. He gave us free tickets into all of the national art museums and a behind the scenes tour of a Picasso painting being restored. The Spanish art museums were incredible. I never had an appreciation for Spanish art but I loved walking around the never ending halls of old and new art not to mention the galleries were air conditioned. All over Spain they have these great things called daily lunch specials where you get a starter, a main and a desert plus a glass of wine for around 8-10 Euros. It is entirely designed for tourist to try different local meals year round but boy of boy did I love that deal. So we tried all types of local traditional dishes all around Spain this way.

Madrid was amazing but sadly we had to keep moving, next we went to Granada in the south east of Spain. This place was fantastic. It was settled by the Moore’s (the same people who reside now in Morocco) so it is very Arab and different than northern Spain. The Moore’s have always been dessert people so imagine someone from the dessert having access to unlimited water supply, they went crazy! There were fountains every 5 feet, lush gardens covering every square inch of “old town”, reflecting pools in every house and did I mention the gardens? Also Granada is one of the last places in Spain to still give free tapas (appetizers) with each drink. Mark and I discovered this fantastic bar where you order a drink and a plate of food shows up… FOR FREE! We ordered a beer, a sandwich showed with a salad. We ordered another beer and a plate of pork and fries shows. We order another beer and another plate of something fantastic magically appears FOR FREE!!! I could have stayed there all night but sadly a long day of travel was in store for the next day so we had to call it an early night. We hopped around for a bit and then went to Santiago.

Santiago is famous in the catholic world for being a pilgrimage place where in olden days Catholics from all over Europe would pilgrim to kiss the neck of St James. We also stayed with someone just outside of Santiago. He was great and showed us all around western Spain. He took us to one of his local bars and had us enjoy octopus legs which were chewy but good. He also introduced us to these little green hot peppers that were lightly fried in olive oil and covered in coarse salt which was a favorite of mine while in Spain. We also got to meet some of his life long friends which was a real pleasure to meet a group of Spaniards who all spoke good English and we were able to chat for hours.

Sadly I fell terribly sick in Spain. I had a major reaction to an anti-malaria medication I had to take after leaving a malaria zone. I had a terrible fever, cold chills, total body aches and nausea I thought would kill me. I wanted to die but I pushed through and continued to France. Once mark and I got to France I was near death and had to go to the hospital to get blood work done. Doctors were afraid I had malaria so I got tested and it came back negative so I stopped taking that medication and eventually got better.

In France Mark and I were WWOOFing, that is the worldwide organization of organic farmers. We volunteer our time to work on someone’s farm and they give us free food and housing while we are there. I really wanted to find a farm that produced wine and cheese but apparently so did everyone else because all I could find was gardening work and apple picking, which was fine. Mark and I did two stents of two weeks each so our first two weeks were spent in Auteze, an extremely small village in the mountains near Carcassonne. Coming from West Africa I had spoken good west African French however that is very different from France French so that was the plan while volunteering, improve my French! I would say I was able to do this but maybe not to the extent that I wanted. The work in Auteze, like I said was gardening so we picked veggies, dug potatoes and onions and de-clovered a field. Mark surprised me for my 25th birthday early and bought cheese, wine and olives and took me to this great spot near a babbling mountain brook. We spent my real birthday in Carcassonne and walked the old walled city, ate more cheese and tried duck wings (which were tasty). It was a great birthday!

Our second farm was with a French family (speaking no English) on an apple orchard. I sorted apples by size and quality for two weeks while Mark picked apples off the trees. It was hard work but the family made up for that by preparing great traditional dishes like ratatouille, French onion soup and French toast. There, we worked hard and played hard. They had a pool and transport into the big city was easy so we had the entire afternoon to relax and goof off with the other volunteers and family.

After two weeks there I never wanted to see an apple and I will forever look at apples differently, always gauging them by size and quality. That was our last stop in France, so we had to go back to Spain and catch our cruise ship in Barcelona Spain. We took three days in Barcelona and enjoyed the Mediterranean beach, the Barcelona museums and La Ramble (the main shopping street with a huge daily market) and the Spanish wine and pork.

We left Spain on the Disney Magic 2 week trans-Atlantic cruise ship. Mark had never been on a cruise and was delighted with the amenities and attractions on board. There were five ports of call and 8 glorious days of ocean sailing. The food, the shows, the gym, the pool, the sun, and the nice people we met on board made those sailing days fly by too quickly. You really can’t beat a two week cruise, across the Atlantic to travel back to America, not to mention it was cheaper than a flight! We docked in America on September 25 and I flew home for the first time in a year and two months.

To be home was amazing. I was greeted at the airport by mom, dad, Nick and his girlfriend Misty. They took me out to dinner where I enjoyed my first American meal of spicy chicken sandwich warp with fries and ranch dressing. Can’t get more American than that. I was able to see a lot of friends and family while home, but certainly not everyone. Most of my days were spent relaxing and starting a job hunt. Surprisingly I found a job less than two week after the day I started applying for jobs. I was hired on to a non-governmental organization called H.E.L.P. (Hope, Educate, Love & Protect) Malawi where Mark and I were both hired as International Program Managers. I left America exactly one month after arriving, back to Africa.

As of late October I have been in Malawi, and it is great to have my best friend here with me. Mark and I have been able to travel around a little bit and are starting to enjoy life in Malawi. We have gone to the lake twice and enjoyed the crystal clear warm lake water.

Well, this was my 2011. Not too bad. I was in 13 countries this year, shared a beer with people from all over the world, spoke 4 languages to varying fluencies and had the time of my life. So here is to an amazing 2012!!

This is my third consecutive thanksgiving away from home, and going on my fourth Christmas away from home. There are many things that I enjoy about living abroad, however the holidays are not one of them.

You have to learn how to make traditional traditions and different family traditions into a special day. Holidays need to be celebrated. They are major mile stone in the year. It would be easy while away to not celebrate the Fourth of July or Thanksgiving, but I need to celebrate those to bring more stability and familiarity to my life away from home.

This year for thanksgiving I will be spending Saturday with several other Americans, trying to make a traditional thanksgiving feast. Instead of turkey however we are doing chickens, there will be mashed potatoes, green beans, cooked carrots and hopefully if we are lucky pumpkin pie. It wont be the same as sitting around Aunt Betty’s table but I will still be with good people, sharing good food and giving thanks for the things I have.

Malawi is known as the “Warm heart of Africa.” It seems as though everyone you meet is excited about life and willing to open their heart and home to you. There are many things to do and see in Malawi, I however have only been here a short while and have seen very little but something I am glad I did early in my stay here was go to Lake Malawi.

Lake Malawi is one of the largest fresh water lakes in Africa. It provides fresh fish for thousands of people who are fighting protein deficiencies; it is also a major tourist destination. I went to a lake side sleepy village called Cape Mclear which is on the cusp of the national forest and the lake.

Inside the national forest there is an amazing place called otters point which is a secluded section of the lake that has a rocky/boulder shore line. Mark and I met with some of our friends and colleagues there and spent the afternoon in the water, swimming among the fish and jumping off the rocks. It was a grand time. We also taught Able, the head teacher of Nanthomba primary school (the school I work with) how to swim.

All in all it was a fantastic day and a good get a way.

It has been about three weeks here in Malawi now. As in all jobs the first few weeks are difficult, learning the ropes, finding your way around, and memorizing everyone’s names can all prove to be very overwhelming; but I’m starting to settle in, find a routine and make new friends.

My first day on the job in country I got a tour of the school I will be working at, met all of the teachers and played around with some of the students, or as they say here, learners. Next I got a tour of a fantastic health center with maternity ward 4 Km up the road the HELP has helped to build. I met Frank and Impatso, the local nurse and midwife. They showed me the vegetable garden they want to use as a nutritional showcase for malnourished children and mothers, and I even saw a first time mother, hours after delivery holding her first born baby son.

As the day was wrapping down I got to take a real “out of the Lion King” style safari. A group of us jumped into a safari vehicle and our amazing guide, Henry showed us several groups of elephants, including baby elephants, warthogs (little known fact, baby warthogs are the cutest thing in the world), bushback, impala, monkeys, baboons, and tons of other animals. Just as the sun was setting we parked our car, jumped down and shared an ice cold beer and popcorn watching the sun set over the mountains down river.

When we got back to camp we had a delicious dinner while overlooking the Shire River listening to the hippos in the distance. I must say, that was the best first day of work I have ever had!

As you all know I left Mali back in July, spent two amazing months traveling around Spain and France, took a transatlantic cruise back to America and then spent some time with my family.

To start things off, I had never been to Spain before and found it incredible. The people were amazing, the food was delicious and the sangria was to die for. Not to mention the Spanish culture, the flamenco dances and the public gardens. Mark and I spent two weeks bouncing around with visiting friends in Madrid, Granada, Santiago, and Barcelona. In Madrid we got a private behind the scene tour of the restoration room in the La Rein Sofia Museum where we got to see people restoring a Picasso, we toured the royal gardens and walked the city. In Granada we went to a walled royal city where there were lush gardens and fish ponds everywhere. It was such a contrast after living 2 years in the desert to see all the colorful flowers and fountains everywhere. In Santiago we did the last mile of a 1000 year old pilgrimage (El Camino) to the Saint James Cathedral in Santiago.

After Santiago Spain we went to France to start our World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farm (WWOOF-ing) projects. First we went to a small farm in Auteze where we were working with an older woman helping her with her garden. I pulled a ton of weeds, picked tomato’s, picked potatoes right out of the ground with my hands and also prepared for market day. It wasn’t the best two weeks of my life, but the work wasn’t that hard and the mountains were pretty. Then we went to Thuir and worked on an apple orchard. I would sort apples while Mark picked them. This was hard work and I would be content never seeing another apple again in my life. That being said, the people who ran the farm were so nice and it was a great opportunity to brush up on my France French as opposed to my West African French.

After our month if France Mark and I headed down to Barcelona and spent two days touring and hanging out on the Mediterranean beaches before we jumped on our Disney Transatlantic cruise. I must admit that I was a little nervous to spend 14 days on a boat with crazy Disney fanatics but it wasn’t that bad. There were plenty of Disney crazy’s but the majority of people were normal I’d say. We spent in total 8 days at sea and then stopped in Gibraltar, Madera, St Marten, Tortola, and Disney’s private island Castaway Cay. My favorite stop had to be Gibraltar because we rode a cable car up the rock and walked down stopping at ape caves along the way.

Once I got home from the cruise I started looking for work. I sent out probably close to 75 resumes and within a week I got an interview and two weeks later I was hired. I took a job with HELP Malawi and will be heading back to Africa for another two year paid contract working as a program manager. I’m writing this from the airport so once I got to Malawi I’ll blog again letting everyone know I’m alive and well. I’m also excited to show off my new lodging arrangements. I will be living at a safari lodge right on a river where I’ll hopefully be able to see wild animals from time to time. But if you want to know more go to http://helpchildren.org/

In December two friends and I set off for our Christmas Vacation in Ghana, a two day trip on the coast of the Gulf of Guinea. We were lucky and got a direct bus from Bamako to Kumasi, Ghana which took 44 hours.

Kumasi hosts West Africa’s largest open air market and it was in full Christmas shopping swing when we arrived. Ghana is almost 50% Christian and 50% Muslim and with the larger disposable income of the country the market was swelled with people. It was amazing to see blenders, X-Box, iPods, and laptops on Christmas special where in Mali most of those things are inaccessible to most of the population.

We also visited several slave castles along the coast, including the two largest slave trade castles in West Africa. The historical significance of visiting these places, having local Ghanaian’s as tour guides explaining the savage history of their land will be something that I will remember for the rest of my life.

On a lighter note, we also meet up with two other friends from Mali and took the aerial walk outside of Cape Coast. Towards the coast of Ghana is rainforest and in the Kukuma National Park they have constructed a walkway bridge between eight trees stretching more than 400 meters into the air. You could feel the rope bridge swinging in the air and at parts you couldn’t even see the ground threw the trees below us.

Ghana also has some amazing coast lines. For Christmas we spent three days at a “Green Resort” on a secluded beach. We passed the days in the water and the nights around bon-fires on the white sand beaches. However, sadly all vacations must come to an end and this trip was no different.

I recently read the book Monique and the Mango Rains about a Peace Corps volunteer in the 80’s stationed in Mali writing about her experience. The book focused on women’s rights and Malian culture. I thought I could give a brief profile of two different women that I have worked with during my service

Fatamata Sydibe

Fatamata (age 26) grew up in Segou Mali and went to high school up to grade 10 then dropped out to get married off at age 17. She is the first wife of her husband and she has three children under the age of eight. She works as a secretary at Miselini (my work) from 9-4 Monday threw Friday, and because she has a one year old child she gets an hour off every morning to breast feed. She wakes at 5am to start making the morning porridge and because her house servants left her she and her mother take turns preparing the daily meals in the morning before work. On Saturday it is laundry day where she washes by hand the family laundry for the week, which is no small task. She owns her own moto that she has worked hard to afford and the majority of her money goes to her husband who makes all of the monetary decisions for the family. From her salary her husband gives her an allowance for herself that she purchases her cloths. She is in charge of food shopping every week and rationing the food amongst the family.

Aminata Berry

Aminata (age 52) grew up in a small town in Guinea. She was one of 15 siblings and was the top female student in her class up until grade 5 where she was forced to drop out so her younger brothers could go to school and she would have to take care of the house. She was married by 14 years old and soon started having a family. Her husband moved around and married three other wives. When Aminata’s first son started going to school, she would take his text books at night and teach herself math, French and even English when they lived in Ghana. She ended up settling in Doune Guinea, and was working as the town mid-wife, activist against women’s genital mutilation (excision), president of the women’s group, village pharmacist, hospital nurse, village chef and host. She was living on top of a hill and was often seen carrying heavy buckets of water for her family. Due to her busy schedule she often got to skip making family meals and one of the other three wives would prepare while she was off working. She received very little money for any of her work and all of her money went straight to construction of her own house. After 40 years of living with a man she never loved she was moving out, something unheard of in village. She saved her own money and on the outskirts of town was building her own three bedroom house. She was also taking moto lessons; in Guinea it is almost unheard of for women to drive a moto. She was the president of the group I worked with and was by far the most influential person I had ever met.

Both of these women have a lot in common however they are very rare exceptions. In village it isn’t unheard of for women to never leave their compound with no contact with people other than their family.

Also women are in charge of all cooking, cleaning, fetching water, field work, raising children, selling in market and buying in market. All of those things are done by hand year round. Now I am not advocating polygamy but it is easy to see when there are several wives that the work gets split and life does become much easier.

As hot season approaches I recently got my hair braided again. I have a serious love/hate relationship with getting my hair braided for several reasons.

On the side of LOVE:

-Every woman Malian has her hair braided from the moment the hair is long enough to braid

-It is much cooler

-It gives me a reason not to wash it

-I don’t have to fuss with it

On the side of HATE:

-Malian women don’t know how to braid white hair

-Sunburns!

-It takes forever to braid and even longer to take out

-My hair is so long it tangles inside of the braids

-It pulls a lot of my hair out and makes it more fragile

However despite all that, I went to a baptism and had my hair braided for it. Two girls came over in the morning and started to pull at my hair. After about five rows, my eyes are watering and they ask me if my hair is extentions because it has the feel of mesh. That is never a good sign, which means they are having a hard time braiding my hair in rows. Almost an hour later they were finishing up and all three of us were ready to finish.

All said and done, it looked ok and after two days the pulling pain went away.

Once a quarter my micro-finance organization has a meeting with five women who have been elected to represent the voice of our loan clients. These are most likely the loudest five women in Segou.

Our meeting was supposed to start at two pm on a Friday. I biked back to work after lunch to find the office locked up still from Friday prayer. So a boutique owner lent me a chair and some shade and I waited for half an hour for my bosses to show up and let me inside. Once inside it was almost three, and there was no sign of these five women anywhere. Normal work hours are 8am to 4pm here so when I saw it was past three and still no women I thought the meeting would just be canceled.

Two women show up around 3:30, so my boss and I start the meeting. Because the women don’t speak French, my boss was in charge of running the meeting and I was just to sit there and wait for translation. Over time more women show up and the meeting keeps getting repeated to catch the late comers up.

At one point all five ladies were screaming their heads off and my boss was screaming back at them. Because it was in bambara I still had no idea what was going on so I just sat there in awe of the argument. I mentioned earlier that these were the five loudest women in Segou, well the room was almost vibrating from the commotion. And by that time it was pushing 6pm… on a Friday. All of a sudden everyone sat down very calmly and said its over and the women left. I looked at my boss and asked what happened and he just shook his head and said they were talking about bread prices.

Tabaski is the Muslim holiday that celebrates the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son to God, then at the last second God presented a ram instead to sacrifice.

In Mali they sacrifice sheep or goat after the morning prayer. I went to Marks village this year for the celebration. Early in the morning we got dressed up in our matching Malian outfits to go to the prayer in the open field in town. The men were able to pray in the shade while the women were in the direct sunlight.

After the prayers were over, Mark and I followed the parade of people leaving the prayer and marching threw village singing religious songs to the mosque in the center of town.

When we made it to the mosque we found out that Marks co-worker was the one in charge of leading the prayers which is a very respectable job.

Once all the prayers were done, it was time to kill the goat. I had no part in the killings or the cooking for that matter which is how i preferred it. It is not pretty work killing and cleaning a goat. However it sure was tasty. I ate so much meat, which is a luxury.

This was my first traditional village tabaski since i've been in Africa so i was happy i was able to share this experience in Marks village with his friends and mine.

December 6th marked my two years in Africa. It is so hard to believe that two years ago I was setting off into an un-known world, not knowing what to expect. And its even more unbelievable how fast I adapted to life in Guinea.

When I set off for my two years in the Peace Corps i was sent to a small village where i didn't know the language, didn't understand the customs and cultures, didn't know where to turn or how to make a phone call. I even had to re-learn to eat. Everything about my life in Guinea i had to learn from the beginning. The first meal I shared with my host family, there was no spoon. I had to reach my hand into a hot bowl of rice and try to make a ball of rice and my hand fit into my mouth. I spilled rice all over myself. With each falling grain of rice I couldn't help but think, I’m spilling these peoples livelihood all over my lap. Sedda Sedda (small small) my Pular came along. I remember the first day I could go to a market and order all of my food in Pular. It was such a success to be able to have a conversation, no matter the content in the local language, and the first time I had to pull water from the well and thought I would loose my glasses down the well. I also remember the day that the children by my house stopped calling me Porto (outsider or white) and started calling me by my Guinean name, Oumou Kesso Barry. There were many days where I spent hanging out with a group of 7th graders under an avocado tree. I looked forward to my afternoon tea time with those kids everyday. I felt included and looked after hanging out with them. Despite the fact that we had nothing in common they were some of my best friends.

I also had to learn to be away from my family and how to build a new family. At first especially i had a hard time being away from everyone and everything i knew. I didn't have access to phones or internet and letters and packages only came once a month bringing special treats from loved ones. I had to accept my host family as my new family. The children helped me with everything and looked up to me like a big sister.

I was also able to share my experiences with the village. I helped at the village health center, weighing babies and encouraging mothers to feed their children more so they can become healthier and stronger. I shared information about hand washing and ways to prevent Malaria. I taught an English class where I encouraged students to continue with their education so they too can one day make a difference. I worked with a women’s group trying to promote the rights of women and helped them find some financial independence from their husbands. I worked on a polio campaign to give free vaccinations to children and inform families to the benefits of western medicine.

While doing all of those things I was fighting off sickness and political unrest. In my year in Guinea I had been so sick many different times. There are different standards of clean and sicknesses run wild. When I first arrived in Guinea the president Conate died leaving the presidential seat wanted by all. There was a bloodless coup d'etat that followed with military enforced curfews. It became very common to see AK-47's and traveling around the country became more difficult and dangerous.

In September 2009 the military open fired on a stadium of unarmed peaceful protesters. 157 reported dead and the capital city, Conakry was not the same. It became too hard to keep volunteers in Guinea and we were evacuated to Bamako, Mali.

After a month of limbo, the Guinea program was closed leaving 97 volunteers heartbroken and homeless. We had the choice to transfer countries, close our service or take a leave and wait for guinea to re-open. I ended up transferring to Mali because I felt that my service was incomplete and I would be able to experience a new place. There with nine other Guinea volunteers that transferred with me to Mali and could help share the feelings of having to start lost and out of place all over.

My new home in Mali is in Segou, a large regional capital with all of the amenities of a large African city. I was happy to accept a house with running water, electricity and I even have internet access everyday at the Peace Corps house.

My transition into Malian life was cushioned by the amenities but I still miss my Guinea village and think of them often. My lifestyle between my village in Guinea and my life in Segou is almost incomparable. In Segou, I live alone inside a family compound and have very little interaction with them. I go to work every morning and socialize with Americans on a daily basis. Also, I started dating Mark in December and have enjoyed splitting my time between his village and my city. This has allowed me to have the village interactions I was missing from Guinea and Mark and I can share the hardship of being ripped from one country and installed in another since he was one of the nine that came from guinea.

I have spent the last year working specifically with a micro-finance institution called Miselini. I set up a marketing campaign so they could reach out and grow their clientele however hit a wall after giving out 12.000.000 CFA or $60,000 to 24 women’s groups and had to turn down women who needed credit to grow their business and help their family. I worked along side the president of Miselini to apply for a partnership between Miselini and Kiva International. I felt that Kiva would be a good fit because it is a no-interest loan from American’s. Please check out the Kiva website to find out more ways that you can change lives. http://www.kiva.org/

Over the last two years I have learned to make Africa my home. I have been exposed to so many new cultures and customs that I would never have been able to understand from America. I have meet some of the poorest people in the world and been able to break bread with them and travel to some of the most naturally beautiful places. I will never take for granted running water again. The project I am working on will not be done by my original COS date, therefore I just submitted my extension until August 2011. I am looking forward to the next nine months that I have left in Mali despite the hot season where temperatures can raise over 120 degrees.

I would like to specifically thank certain family members that have sent me countless packages that help keep me sane and full of tasty American food.

-Mom and Dad: almost every month I get at least one package from you with things that keep me in touch with America and with what is going on with the family while I’m away.

-Aunt Betty and Uncle Dan and all the Curley’s: I don’t even know how to thank you for all of the food you have sent me. You have made me very popular among the volunteers when I share my food with them. And all of those jelly beans were devoured by my work and Marks village.

-Grandma: I love the letters you send on a regular basis. I know I’m not good at sitting down and writing you back but I enjoy reading what you are up to and whenever you send the grandma crackers or homemade cookies its like I had just been to your house in Tennessee.

-Uncle Tim: I love the music, books and brownies you send

-Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Wes, and Kyle: Thanks so much for everything you send

And a huge thank you to everyone else who has sent me cards, letters and packages. I know how expensive things are to send here and I truly appreciate everything.

While I was in Bamako the last time some of us went to the zoo. When I first got to Mali I was really surprised there was a zoo, and then when i found out it was only $.10 to enter i had to go.

When you walk in, you are greated with shreaking monkeys. People had brought in peanuts to threw to the animals so we watched the monkeys catch and fight over peanuts for a bit. Then we found some donkeys in cages. The irony of donkeys in a zoo here is funny because donkeys are in every village as work animals. It would be almost the equivalent of golden labs in a zoo in America.

We also found a baby elephant. The elephant also loved when people feed it peanuts and was standing at the gate entertaning people for food. I almost had my camera eaten by the elephant while trying to take photos. All of us had a chance to pet the elephants truck. I guess i never really thought about what an elephant would feel like but they are corse and hairy. Not plesent to pet at all.

We also saw a pumba (wharthog), a lion, several panthers, hyenas, turtles, and wolves. The bamako zoo isn't really compairable to american zoo's because the cages are tiny and most of them are just concrete slabs with bars. There are not the fun, themed exhibits. So there is a general feeling of depression coming from the animals.

I however really enjoyed the zoo. Despite the fact that the animal cages are small you were allowed to get right up there and pet the animals. Even the panther cage i could have stuck my hand in, if i wanted. But this gave a real chance to see the animals. A lot of time in American zoos you search for the animal and only get to see it from far away.

Now some of you may remember last year I helped cook the traditional family style thanksgiving, and i almost lost a leg in the proses. So this year I happily took the invite to go to Sikasso (the southern region of Mali) where a group dinner is prepared.

Thursday

Around four in the afternoon about 60 of my closest Mali volunteer friends got together inside the civil center of Sikasso to sit down for thanksgiving dinner. There was a cooler of salad, a tub of green beans, a bucket of mashed potatoes and five turkeys! Now if that wasn't enough (and it was enough but it's thanksgiving) so there were apple pies and pumpkin pies!!! Now i'm sure most people wouldn't think this is possible for 60 people to finish all that food, but we sure tried and came close to finishing.

It wasn't the same as being at Aunt Bettys house with family but it was really nice to see some old faces and meet tons of new ones. Not having gone threw training in Mali, i'm not as close with some of the volunteers but being able to spend a major holiday weekend with them sure was nice.

Friday

Friday afternoon we had rented out a pool and got to enjoy the fun in the sun. No black friday shopping for me. (Well i think i went and bought an avocado in the market but there was no pushing or sales so i don't think that counts.) The pool was a funny color so few people went in, but i enjoyed sitting in the sun.

There were also donkey races. Two volunteers at a time would race donkeys. Sounds easy but from what i saw, not the case. I didn't race but people were struggling to make the donkey go in the right direction or even go at all.

For dinner the volunteers of Sikasso cooked up burritos! There was rice and beans and guac and everything. So taisty.

Now needless to say, I eat well those two days!

Saturday

Saturday morning a group of about 14 of us meet up to go out to the water falls just outside of Sikasso. This was one of the prettiest places i've seen, so instead of me trying to explain it, i'll just put up some photos.

After playing around in the falls a group of us climbed up to the top part of the falls.

We were spending the night out there so before the sun set we had to climb down and set up camp, make a fire and make dinner.

While I was back home in June/July 2010 a lot of people asked me what my house was like here in Mali. It never really occurred to me to take photos, but i finally did so you can see how i live. Its not as ruff-ing it as you would think.

My "little kitchen" including a food trunk, a fridge, and a gas stove top.

The place where I keep my dishes, water filter (large white thing) and all of my plastic trash bags.

My living room furniture, on the table is my books and my dogon book holders (olo couple), and my oh so important fan. Now mind you that all of the "kitchen" and "living room" are in the same room.

My king size bed, my closet, and my folding chair

So this is my bathroom. My toilet, shower head and there is a sink off to the right of the photo that you can't see.

And this is my mango tree. I live on the second floor, so there are three mango trees, with all of their fruit right at eye level, just there for the taking. Mmm!

This is the 8:00am photo right as the three of us (Myself, Mark and Dorian) and our Guide Adjoro were heading off on our three day hike

Here is a photo of me inside one of the ancient villages on the dogon hike. Most of the structures, like the one behind me are not houses but grain storage. After the yearly harvest men would fill their graineries and pray to their many Gods that the harvest will last until next the harvest.

A sacrificial rock is where families would bring up millet beer along with goats to sacrifice. When a baby was born they would poor out the millet beer and slater a goat so that the child would take on the personalities and longevity of someones ancestors

At the end of the hike there is a cave of artist who sell their touristy things. Now each object has a very interesting story, I bought an Olo couple. An Olo is the oldest man in a village. It is a highly respected person who holds a lot of power within each village. The couple represents long lives, strength and wisdom.

You can find more photos from my Dogon trip (and more) by clicking on this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2214085&id=39500264&l=1f2ed3a834

Dogon Country is a small, isolated section of Mali about 10 hours away from where I live. It is famous for its dramatic cliff faces, resilient people and hiking trips. This is a place where people come from around the world to hike these paths and see "how they live".

Now, I will be the first person to admit that I am not a hiker but when the opportunity presented itself to take a three day hike i couldn't turn it down. The ten hour journey there turned out to take three days but when Mark, Dorian (a good Peace Corps friend from Guinea and Mali) and I got to Sanga (the village where we would start and end the hike) we were ready to start on the hike and stretch our legs after three days in buses and vans crammed in like clowns.

Hike, Day One

At 8:00 am the three of us set off with our guide, Adjoro, with a change of cloths, three liters of water, cameras, and enough bug repellent to last us a week. Sanga is at the top of an amazing cliff, overlooking the encroaching desert, a river and what little farm land there is.

Our first stop took us to an ancient (+3000 year old) village inside of the cliffs. The people who first settled here chose to live inside of the cliffs because it was the safest places. Water was available about six months a year within the cliffs and then women would have to go down into the valleys to get water the remaining six months. No-one knows exactly why theses people moved out of this particular cliff but its assumed to find water would be a key reason.

We continued to walk down hill and threw peoples millet fields until noon. Even though it was not hot season, in the direct sun between the hours of 12-3 can still reach well over 100 degrees, so every day we took our naps, eat lunch, and rested the feet. After already walking about 8 miles that day we get to a cliff and Adjoro points up and says "We will be sleeping up there in the cliffs that night" AHH!!! My feet were already killing me, i felt like i was going to die, walking on flat land, now i have to hike up another hour STRAIGHT UP!!! Thank God Adjoro found me a local Malian man who helped pull me up and he took my heavy bag. Now when I say that this man, also named Adjoro, pulled me I literally mean he pulled me up. We walked hand in hand, him about a pace or two in front of me and he would pull my arm. But we made it to the campsite and there was warm water to bath and mattresses to sleep on and food was on the fire! I wish i could say i slept well that night but the truth was that there was a lot of "commotion" going on in the village. There was signing and dancing, along with loud clapping of the hands. Normally I probably wouldn't have even noticed this but for some reason i kept thinking that the village was doing human sacrifices (the Dogon people are more traditional animists as opposed to the rest of Mali which is Muslum). Oh course there was no human sacrifices going on and in the morning I found out that the local teenagers, after all the daily chores are finished have dance parties around villages to encourage kids from doing drugs.

Hike, Day Two

After a terribles night sleep i was refreshed and ready to start the next days hike. I knew we were going up the rest of the mountain and then back down. I was dreading the up, but very much looking forward to the down part of the day. I was also relieved to see Adjoro, my porter, waiting to help me up. On the way up its just steps of wobbly rocks and having an extra person (who is highly skilled at balancing these rocks) saved my knees from meeting those cold hard rocks several times.

At the top, there was a breathtaking view of the valley that we walked the day before. It gave a true sense of accomplishment. However the sun was rising and we had a long day ahead of us still so we had to keep moving. Now this day was really going to show me what I was made of. I never thought i had a fear of heights but on day two i think a fear was born. While on the top of the mountain there are endlessly deep crevasses in which you have to cross a bridge made out of sticks and rocks (I KID YOU NOT). In order to continue i had to have Adjoro, the porter, and Mark take my hands and push/pull me arcoss. I say a fear was born because if i fell I was at LEAST 17 hours from a hospital which here, means curtain death. (Sorry Mom) Needless to say, I can only write this seeing as I survived, so lets not focus on that.

After going up and over the mountain it was time for the going down, this is the part that I always thought was the easiest. Boy was i wrong! Remember how i was saying there are countless crevasses, well now i had to climb down one! Now mind you, I'm a girl from Ohio, we don't do this kind of thing... EVER! And my two California friends who did this kind of thing every weekend I was with thought I was hilarious. But the only way to move was forward, so Adjoro and Adjoro helped guide me into the crevass and down a very narrow rickety handmade latter. Now remember I survived!

Inside the crevasse there was a man made dame that gathered rain water so a local village would be able to get water 10 months a year and the other two months a year the women and girls would take a 5 1/2 gallon bucket painstakingly down the cliffs to the well and carry these buckets back up to their homes without spilling a drop.

I had to say goodbye to Adjoro, my porter at lunch. I thanked him profusely for his services, and making sure i stayed alive. I paid him the equivalent of $3.00 and he merrily went back up and over the mountain to his house.

Hike, Day Three

On the start of the third and final day i was more rested but my body felt like it was dying. Within two days we had walked over 20 miles in triple digit heat up and down mountains.

At one point Adjoro, the guide, pointed out a village in the mountain, barley noticeable and was explaining that now the more remote cliff villages are used as burial grounds. If looking in the exact spot you can see the sun-bleached bones of the dead overflowing from long ago abandoned houses. Men scale up the cliff attaching ropes and pull the dead bodies into place. This may sound morbid, but when you live on rock... you can't bury.

After lunch we had to climb the 1,000 steps back up to Sanga where we started the hike two and a half days earlier. We are back on the climbing wobbly steps and this time i was more tired and didn't have Adjoro my porter to help me. Mark was so nice and took my hand and walked with me up the steps. To my surprise it only took about an hour and a half to make it up with several small breaks

This three day hike was one of the hardest yet most rewarding experiences of my life. I struggled, fighting off fatigue and dehydration but for me, this was only a three-day mini-weekend. The villages that we walked threw live these lives day in and day out, living in one of the host in-hospitable environments i have ever seen.

Cencen helping me study for the GRE... we are going to ace it!

Traditional Dogon dancers in the Parade

The "Meat Cutters Association" in the Parade

Mark and I with the Imam of Madiama (Marks village) and some of Fakoro's family members

Myself and Mark (in our matching Eid ul-Fitr outfits) and Fakoro, Marks co-worker

A traditional Fulani woman selling fresh cows milk from a gord on top of her head inside of Marks compound

This year for the large holiday of the End of Ramadan I went out to Marks village to celebrate. Most Islamic (if not all) are lunar based so you don’t know when Ramadan is ending until the night before.

I cheated and looked up on line when the experts were speculating and used that to determine when to go out to Marks. Since I didn’t know a lot about Ramadan before living in an Islamic country let me give you some key notes.

-Fast from sun up to sun down (4:30 wake up to eat and drink water, and break fast around 6:45pm)

-Give thanks to Allah for another year of life

-If you miss a day of fasting you have to make it up before the next year

-Breastfeeding/pregnant women, children under 14 and people who are sick do not fast

-The month of fasting is about 28 days

The first morning I was there Marks Malian co-worker comes over early and tells us today is the grand celebration, we need to hurry and go to the mosque. Once we finished scarfing down our breakfast of peanut butter and plantain sandwiches we got dressed and went over to the mosque.

I was always told that in my Guinea village because I was a women I couldn’t enter the mosque and because I am Christian I am not allowed in the compound. I always respected that and sat outside for the large religious ceremonies waiting for everyone to finish and I would greet them as they came out. So to my surprise when Mark and I got to the mosque we were invited in. We asked if it was ok since we both aren’t Muslim and I’m female. They said to go in. We stood in the far back courtyard with our backs on the mud wall. It was so awkward. I was the ONLY woman inside or so I initially thought. After a while I heard a cough from behind and saw a small door and peeked in to my delight found women! I felt better but still awkward. I was also holding a giant bag of jelly bean to hand out to the kids after prayer too. (Thanks Aunt Betty)

Once prayer was over and all of the men started to leave the mosque we meet up with Fakoro, Marks co-worker again he helped us find our shoes and navigate over to the Imams house for more blessings. Once we were blessed again the three of us started to walk around a great people in the village. Each one wanted us to eat too. The kids were going crazy over the jelly beans. They all wanted to know what flavor it was going to be.

Around mid afternoon it started to look like rain so the three of us went back to Marks house and made tea over charcoal in this living room. The rain didn’t let up until late which is when we had to start making dinner.

The festivities were cut short by the rain but it was a good day. I have always wanted to go into a mud mosque and I finally got my chance.

The Cinquantetheure Celebration

On September 22, 2010, Mali celebrated its 50th anniversary as a country. Back in 1960 while America was all about free love and worshiping the Beatles (MOM!), Mali was transitioning from the French colonialist power to become an independent nation.

Over the past 50 years Mali has had three presidents, paved several road spanning large parts of the country, and had the Chinese donate several hydro electric dams providing electricity 24/7 ish for several of its largest towns. However, Mali is one of the poorest countries in the world. Children suffer from malnutrition, clean water is hard if not impossible to find in most villages, and diseases go un-treated because medication is too expensive. Now I don’t mean to sound like a Debby Downer here because Malians are some of the over all happiest people I’ve ever meet. You will never hear someone complaining about having to walk across town to get water from the pump or women slumped over a charcoal fire preparing food for four hours a day. The kids will run around with their swollen bellies playing games in their free time. And the men at the end of the day will sit under trees making tea and talking about just about anything.

I was recently reflecting on the state of development here in Mali, it is years ahead of Guinea but that’s not saying a lot in the grand scheme of things. The thing that really got me thinking was how the Malian government spent some obscene amount on the celebration for Bamako (the capital). There were parades, marathon runs, jet fly overs and parachuter’s jumping out of planes. Also you can’t forget all the repairs that the city did trying to snazzy things up so the city looked good for the celebration. Now I’m all for cleaning up the streets but I find it ironic that this country is suffering from countless poverty stricken problems and can justify sending fighter jets all around the country to celebrate their independence.

All of this said, I did have a great time at the Segou parade. Everyone and their brother was there by ten in the morning to watch every single association walk down the street. There were groups of farmers holding corn/millet stalks, bakers with break, butchers with meat hanging off a truck (I couldn’t even make this up if I tried), and school children with matching t-shirts. And the grand finally of the parade there was the jet fly over. It was a dramatic ending to the parade indeed.

A very special thanks to:

-Mom and Dad

-Aunt Betty and Uncle Dan

-Grandma and Gramps

-Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Wes, and Kyle

-Aunt Mary and Uncle John

For all the birthday wishes and gifts. Thank you so much!

Well everyone, i finally broke down and bought a refrigerator. Its amazing. I hadn't bough one at first since they are expensive but i saved my money and got it.

Also a big motivator was the mini-hot season coming up again where the temperatures will raise again and ice cold water at my becking call was just worth forking over some cash.

So the good news is you can now send me "Refrigerate After Opening" stuff, like cheeses, or well anything that requires refrigeration.

Its a mini-fridge about waist hight with a freezer on top, i'm so looking forward to filling it with tons of goodies!!

Three days ago, i was sitting at the bus station waiting for Marks bus to arrive/leave when i noticed my wallet was missing out of my purse. I had my purse sitting next to me and when Marks bus arrived i checked my bag and realized it was missing!

Generally Mali is a very safe country and petty theft isn't a problem but its Ramadon and money is short all around... It happens I guess. I had about 15,000 CFA ($30), my ID card, and my bank card in my wallet so i was more concerned about those. I went and talked to the staff of the bus company while Mark called Peace Corps asking what we should do. The bus staff wasn't helpful at all and just said there were too many people to do anything and that i should just go to the police in town. Basically that is what the Peace Corps staff said too.

On the walk out we looked all over for my wallet with the thought that someone would have just taken the money and thrown the rest out. But we found nothing...

At the police station we had to declare my wallet stolen and write out a report... in french. When we were done writing out the report then we had to take it to the secretary who was supposed to do something with it. Well the secretary said she didn't need anything and we were done with her and we should go over to the bank to tell them my card was lost.

So we taxi down to the bank and find someone to report my card missing to. He asks if we had went to the police and i show him the paper we got for declaring my wallet missing. He tells me its not the right paper and we need to go back to the police and get something else. I ask if there is anything he can do now and he just looked up my account info and told me to finish with the police and come back the next day.

So we get back in a taxi, oh i forgot to mention it was POURing down rain during most of this, and go back to the police station. The secretary now is saying that we need to go to the Treasury office to get a stamp, come back and let her sign something.

We leave, get in another taxi, and try to find the treasury office. After searching for a while we find the office and it looks closed. But as we are walking up a window flys open and a nice malien man says he is happy to stay and help us. So i tell him what i need and he is telling us all about the Malien hospitality. Then he asks why i need this stamp and i tell him my wallet was stolen and i need to declare my bank card missing. He was shocked and apologized.

So then we walked back to the police station and waited for the secretary to fill out and sign a paper, put the stamp on and charge us a $2 fee. By this time it was past 5 and since its Ramadon the bank was already closed. So at this point we called it a day.

We were tired, frustrated, and soaking wet.

The next day we got up and went to the bank. Sat there for several hours waiting for a new card to be issued and was able to take out money.

So everything work out fine and everything is now settled. Now please don't think that Mali is a bad place or anything... Remember, this could have happened anywhere!

So here are some old photos that i haven't posted that I thought you guys would enjoy seeing!

(Your one and only plowing a millet field)

(Myself in front of a GIANT termite mound on a walk into the bush)

(Zame or Riz au Gras, my all time favorite African dish)

(A bone yard... like in Lion King... outside of Marks village where all of the large animals are sent to die)

Another part of my amazing birthday was going up in a little plane and flying around over Segou. I have a German military friend who lives here in Segou that owns a private little plane that he will take people up for a small fee. So i contacted him a few weeks ago and set up to fly on my birthday weekend.

It is a private airstrip... he and one other guy are the only ones how know how to fly a plane in all of segou and he owns the only plane in the entire city of Segou. So Gerhard, the German guy picks Mark and I up and takes us out there, checks all of the things and I load in for my flight.

It was a really small, two seater plane. I really don't know how to explain how amazing it was so here are some of my photos.

(Me getting ready)

(Take off)

(The Niger River)

(Downtown Segou where women go to do their laundry in the river and dry in on the river banks)

(Segou!)

Happy 24th birthday to me!

Mark came into town on my birthday. On the morning of the 19th we got up, made breakfast burritos (Mmmmm!), went and made a cheesecake (from a Pilsbury box), and went to the pool. My birthday was a surprisingly sunny day so the water felt so good and it didn't even rain. At the pool some other peace corps people meet us for a beer and slish splashed in the pool with us.

(The pool we swim at)

Around 5:30 Mark and I started to clean up because we wanted to go and watch the sun set at the Italian restaurant right on the river. Because it was a picture perfect day, the sunset was incredible but too short.

(Sunset on the Niger River)

And then, there was no gas for the restaurant to cook so all they could make was salads. I didn't want salad so the two of us went over to the "Shack" a local "upscale" malien restaurant that i love and had a nice dinner there and taxied back home and ate the cheesecake we had prepared that morning.

Overall it was an amazing birthday... but it got better (please read Flight over Segou)

My favorite time of year in Africa has arrived. The rains have come, allowing people to start their rainy season harvests, the markets are filled with good veggies now and most importantly, IT HAS COOLED OFF!

Typically here in Mali the rains are not as frequent as they were in Guinea but we are still getting rain about two to three times a week where in guinea it was two or three times a day.

(Main national highway completely washed out by an over flooded highway)

When the rains come, the streets turn to rivers and city life practicly stops until the rivers become roads again.

Biking has become interesting... I'm always muddy and have to do laundry more than ever. But the sun shine is so unpredictable it is near impossible. One day i looked outside and saw blue skys for miles, started laundry and when i was about halfway finished it was pouring for the rest of the day...

Also, I'm lucky enough to live in a concrete house but many people (Maliens as well as Peace Corps Volunteers) live in mud houses. When the rains come so heavily so often, without time for the mud to dry out, the mud becomes weak. And yes the houses will crumble. Along the older section of Segou, where there is the highest concentration of mud housing, walls and roofs have been falling left and right. There has also been a PC Volunteer who had his house fall with the rains.

But i will take the african rains over the sweltering heat any day!

Surprise… Here’s a cat!

While I was out at Mark’s house one morning we woke up, started making breakfast and when his neighbor came over to greet the day to us he pointed out four baby kittens in Marks compound. Someone knew that mark had a cat that he took care of well and thought he would like four more to take care of.

Of course Mark doesn’t want four kittens plus his cat so we gave them some milk and started looking for some homes. We found two people who said they would take one cat each which left two kittens. One kitten is very small, definitely the runt of the litter and is too small to give away and the other was so cute and so playful that I just had to take him. So I now am a cat owner. Who would have thought? I always thought of myself as a dog person, but we will test out the cat thing for a while.

So this is Cεncεn, as best as I can tell it’s a boy. Maybe about 8-9 weeks old. Don’t worry when he gets a little older I will have the vet come out to get his rabies shot. Also there is a huge sand pile in front of my house that I steal/barrow a handful and use as cat litter. Now, Cεncεn eats smoked, dried fish and milk. The fish is a new thing so he is still getting used to it.

Also, Thanks to Grandma and Grandpa for the package. I loved the birthday card, and of course GRANDMA CRACKERS!!!!!!! And Aunt Mary & Uncle John thank you for the birthday card. I opened it early but enjoyed the card.

You can take the girl out of the village, but you sure can’t take the village out of the girl

Every few weeks or so I like to go out to Marks village, Madiama, for a few days. Clear my head of the “city” life, have a chance to just sit around the tea set and joke around. I was starting to feel the anxiety that builds up with having a work schedule so I took a week off and went out to visit the village.

First off, I received a lot of questions while I was back home about how I travel around the country. Public transport can very from company to company and bus to bus. I usually take Bittar, I’ve never had major problems with them and they are only about an hour late most of the time. I chose Bittar again this day and had problems the entire way. I go to the bus station about 45 minutes before the bus is supposed to be there; 11:30am, bought my ticket and batted flies. They don’t announce busses when they come in so you have to rush up to the bus and find out where that bus is going. Every bus that came by I would jump up and ask, hoping to hear Mopti the direction of where I was going. Around 2:30 pm my bus just pulls in. I run up, give the man my ticket and go to jump on the bus but am pushed off by the entire bus load of people. Normally bus stops are around 2-5 minutes, so I thought that is what it would be. I was wrong! We had to fix not one, not two but THREE TIRES! That is never a good sign!

Finaly around 3:00 we are off. I push my way on and find a nice old man to sit next to from Timbuktou. I have a general rule I like to abide when bussing alone. Buy candy or a treat for the person next to you so they will watch out for you and make sure you don’t get left somewhere. I don’t think my rule has ever saved my butt, but I don’t ever want it to come to not being polite that I get left somewhere.

We truck along for a bit and then stop, in the middle of the bush. Nothing around us, not even a latrine to pee in. Another tire has broken something or other. I’m not to keen on my mechanical French terms so I didn’t understand a lot. But I go under the big mango tree and sit with my new friend. We sit and wait for 45 minutes and then after a few fights (that I stayed away from) we got back on the bus.

Mark was expecting me around 5 and I wasn’t even halfway there by five. We went without problems until I was going to get off. The bus driver jokingly didn’t want to let me off in the village he wanted me to continue just until the city. I convinced him I was in fact getting off in Madiama and it sure helped that I had a fan club of Marks friends there to pick me up. An easy 5 hour trip can shortly run into a 9 hour day from hell.

Marks village is a small mud village. Everything, or at least almost everything is made of mud. Its amazing what you can do with mud. We spent the first day just walking around and making sure I said hello to the village chief and town mayor, the lady that is in charge of the watering pump and the tailor. It’s a great feeling to be welcomed back into a village, I don’t get that in Segou.

I also spent two days learning how to make rice and sauce. Here is a recipe for all of you daring cooks out there. This is one of the best dishes here in Mali.

Peanut Sauce

5-6 small onions, chopped

5-6 small tomatoes

3-4 small eggplants

2-3 globs of peanut butter

1 cube Maggi

salt and pepper to taste

optional--fish or meat, cooked well

prior to adding

potatoes, ignames, or manioc, boiled

separately until soft before adding

Boil 2-3 cups of water, add eggplant and

cook. Add peanut butter. Stir frequently

until peanut butter is fully blended, adding

more water if necessary. Add onions,

tomatoes, Maggi, salt, pepper, and other

desired vegetables. Continue boiling until

sauce becomes thick and the oil from the

peanut butter surfaces abundantly. Keep

stirring over low heat. Serve sauce over

rice.

Mark and I also went out to Nericoro, a neighboring village where Mark is working with his community to build a school and finance the desks and chairs. It was about three kilometers out of town so we woke up very early, walked out there and Mark showed me the school. It only took about five minutes to see the school since there is no roof or floors right now. Then we walked about a quarter of the way back with a herd of sheep. We also climbed giant termite hills and a bayobob tree. And the final thing we did on our walk back was help plow a field.

Its rainy season which means everyone is out in the fields all day. We saw a great opportunity to help a man out. A child was leading two cows/oxen (I don’t know how to tell the difference) and an old man working the plow. Mark jumped in and grabbed the plow and his line was very crooked. I thought I could do better than that so I took over. My line was stick straight, however my line ended up half way to China. Lord knows I don’t know how to plow a field but I think with a little more practice I could be an amazing plow women.

The other big thing that I did “au village” was markets. Markets are a once a week highlight for villagers. It’s the day where everyone comes out to buy and sell their livestock, produce, or other products. We went to Sofara, a larger town about 45 minutes away. They have ice and bread!

Weirdest Day Ever

A couple of Fridays ago, I woke up, brushed my teeth and went into work like any normal day. As soon as I got into work my boss told me we are going out. He was sick and tired of just sitting around all day. We were going to hit the ground running that day.

We ride over to the market area and then Diarra (my boss) wants me to go and meet his Tae Kwon Do master. So he carts me over to his master’s house to introduce me. We sit, watch some bad music videos and then France 24 News. I keep thinking we are going to leave any minute but we never do. More and more little kids in Tae Kwon Do outfits keep coming in and soon after a dance party breaks out. Diarra uses his cell phone to DJ, I hand out candy to motivate the kids to dance.

After sitting in the Tae Kwon Do Master’s house for three hours I finally ask Diarra, “What are we waiting on?” He keeps telling me to just wait, something will happen soon. About five music videos later I start to hear honking moto horns coming our way. Usually honking moto horns in processions is saved for marriages and I didn’t think there would be a wedding on a Friday morning. But sure enough I was wrong. The honking stopped and the once empty living room filled up with about 100+ Maliens dressed for a wedding.

I try to search out Diarra but I’m swarmed by the photographer and bride party. Mind you I didn’t know the bride (or groom for that matter) let alone I didn’t even know there was a wedding going on. But I smile nicely for the photos because I know that one day the will decorate some wall and grandchildren will be told about how I was once friends with a Toubabou.

Then it got even weirder. Suddenly everyone leaves, leaving Diarra, the master and I alone in this living room. I get swept away by the master into the gym where the tae kwon do classes are held and then the wedding party enters the gym. The bride and groom put on the Tae Kwon Do outfits over their wedding gear. We take a few more photos and then everyone leaves. So there I am, alone thinking, what just happened?

When i was back in America i wanted to look for a hammock. I spend a lot of time reading and a nice hammock under a shaddy tree would be nice i thought. Well i just simply ran out of time to look in America, but i knew Mark had one that was made in Guinea. I thought maybe i could find someone who could use his as a model and make me one here.

Mark and I drag his hammock down to the people who weave thick plastic rope to medal frames to make chairs. I thought its the same idea and they should be able to make it. Well they loved the hammock but said there is no way they can make it. BOO, i really wanted my hammock!

After the disapointing meeting with the chair weavers we had to go to the market and get some stuff. Mark was talking to some Malien guy and ended up asking about hammock. And the guy knew where they sold them in the market. The nice man, i think his name was Coulibally, went and got two differnt types of hammocks to show us while we sat under his hanger filled with childrens clothing. I ended up getting a hammock from him for about 4,000 CFA or $8.oo, found some nice thick rope and took it home to hang.

On my balcony, the hammock is entirly shaded from the sun by two large mango trees creating a nice, relaxing area. Since i have recently decided that I will be taking the GRE soon i have designated this hammock as my study hammock. I hope using the hammock as motivation to study will increase my GRE score so i can get into a good school, find a good job and retire by 40. I have high hopes for this hammock i think!

When i got back from my month long America vacation i came back to a house where my toilette wasn't working. Great, i thought. So i had to talk to my host dad and tell him it wasn't working so he could call someone to come out and have it fixed. He knew someone who could fix it, so he called and said he would be there the next day.

So, the next day Mark and I wait all day for the plumber to come and fix the problem. Well like a Malien he comes at 4:30 in the afternoon. I had spent HOURS waiting but finally he was there. It took him about 3 minutes to fix the lever thing that tells the water when to stop running. He told me "Pull it like a baby". My toilette is the pull kind where there is a pull thing on top of it that you lift to flush (different that American toilettes). So he made me practice a few times in front of him to make sure i wouldn't brake it again.

The toilette is all fixed and working like a charm now. BUT, two days after this, Mark and I are coming back from pizza night at one of the hotels. Our feet are muddy from the walk back, so we get back to my apartment at about 11pm and go to wash our feet when the faucet breaks. It is gushing water everywhere. I grab buckets and those start overflowing. Mark is trying to fix the faucet with no luck. After about 5 minutes of failed fixing we run outside to find someone to turn off the water to my house. By this time its past 11:30 and there is noone up in my compound. But there were voices outside so Mark runs over and says something along the lines of "The water is running and wont stop" in Bambara to the men. Thank god, one of the men there was from my compound and knew what to do. He also knew where the water line was for my house. BUT, there was a lock on the box to turn off the water. So he had to go and wake my host dad, find the keys and start looking for the key. No luck finding the key, of course. So we had to smash the lock and turn off the water. Host pappa said that he would call the plumber again in the morning.

The next day i had to wait, again, for the plumber to come. But i thought since he came late afternoon the last time, he could come about the same time again. Well at 5:30 pm still no word from the plumber so i went to ask host dad what the deal was. He said that the guy would be here by 4. I told him that it was an hour and a half past 4. So we tried to call the plumber but his phone was off. Mind you, i haven't had water in my apartment for over 17 hours. I wanted to take a shower and was getting nervous that the plumber wasn't comeing. At 6:15 i got a "conk conk" on my door and it was the plumber. This time it only took him about 30 seconds to fix the problem and then procceded to ask me for the baseball hat sitting on my coffee table. I gave him the hat and he went on his merry way.

When i was back home in America there were several things that i noticed that had changed. Now, given that i had been out of "civilization" for so long part of it might have been just me changing as well.

The first thing i noticed when i got off the plane, green. In the dessert in hot season, there is no color other than sand. Seeing all of the trees and grass was mind blowing. Another thing i noticed, the beds are so comfy. I stayed in plenty of differnt beds in many cities while home and each and every one was delightful! In Guinea i slept on a straw mattress and in Mali i have a cotton mattress, so a real boxspring and mattress american style was like sleeping on a cloud!

This may seem weird but the toilette paper is so much softer in America. Also, the food portions are HUGE! I went to the cheesecake factory with some friends in Dayton and my salad could have fed a family of 5 in Mali easily!

The next big thing i noticed, everyone is ALWAYS on their cell phones. It seemed like every ten minutes peoples phones were buzzing. And also, people just text like crazy. Do people even talk on the phone anymore?

The last thing that i noticed was Americans are more hospitable than i remember. I was welcomed with open arms all around the country. People asked questions about my life and were generally interested in things i had to say. They let me sleep in their house and eat their food without asking for a thing.

As you all know, for the month of June and into July I was able to go home for a little well deserved R&R. I was lucky enough to get around and be able to visit a lot of people however not everyone. I thought i would share some of the reoccurring questions.

1. What is the weather like in Mali?

Easy, hot. I know i complain a lot about the heat but really, its at least 120 everyday during the hot season. However there is the rainy season which is a big sigh of relief when the temp drops to about 95-100. The third and final season is cold season, which entails temperature in the low low 80's.

2. What do you eat?

A lot of fruits and veggies. In my daily market i can get lettuce, cucumbers, onions, potatoes, carrots, green peppers, coconuts, bananas, oranges, mangoes, guavas, pineapple, apples, and grapefruits all depending on the season. Also since i'm in a city i have restaurant choices. There is a (real) Italian restaurant, a togolease restaurant that has amazing rice and sauce, and "the shack". Which is literally a grass shack that has amazing food at good prices. And last but certainly not least, American food when people are so generous to send some.

3. What do you do all day?

I wake up and bike to work. I usually stay at work from 8-12 and then pass by the daily market for lunch/dinner. Bike back home and put all the veggies in bleach water to kill all the gross germs and then make whatever lunch is going to be. Sit in my new hammock and read/nap for a bit and then go out and say hello to a lot of my malien friends. Usually drink some tea. But don't forget i have to hand wash all of my cloths and dishes. So things take a lot longer to do here.

4.How do you do it?

I really don't know. Some days are harder than others but you just kind of wake up, look around and remember life isn't all that bad.

5. Do you like it?

In case you can't tell, I love it here. The people are amazing and the problems really just kind of disappear. When the water cuts out... you just wait. When your bus doesn't leave on time... you just wait. Its a whole different lifestyle here.

I'm going to try to update my blog more in the coming days. I have lots of new stories and adventures that i would love to share with everyone.

After a nightmarish trip from Segou to Hombori, a 10 hour bus ride several volunteers and I finally made it to our destination around 5 am to start our weekend of elephant looking. Lelele, our guide was waiting for us at the side of the road to take us to our “hotel”. Around two o’clock the next afternoon myself and seven other volunteers set off in a 4x4, into the desert on an expedition to find elephants.

The elephants in Mali are migratory, meaning they move from watering hole to watering hole between Mali and Burkina Faso depending on the time of year. Going in May meant that the elephants were about 4 hours outside of Hombori on very bad, unpaved goat path. After being shaken and stirred over the bumps and into the valleys we started to see elephant footprints and droppings. Our driver kept asking random nomad herders we saw if they had seen the elephants recently, giving us minor hope that they were close.

We came upon a massive lake and across the way, ELEPHANTS!!! Herds and herds of elephants right as the sun was going down. A truly breathtaking scene. Once we had finished taking some photos, Lelele wanted to get closer. So we climbed back into the 4x4 and drove closer. We had to jump out at a certain point, not wanting to startle the elephants with the car and proceeded closer on foot. At that point, the car just pulls away, leaving us exposed to the MASIVE elephants, latterly surrounding us. Lelele said the driver was too scared to be that close to the elephants and drove off to seek safer ground.

Us, being the brave (and potentially naive) Americans walked closer. The sun was setting and we needed to set up camp before sun down so we went back to the 4x4 and drove looking for a safe distance place to set up camp in the middle of an elephant breeding zone. We set up camp, Lelele had prepared couscous and chicken for us, so we devoured that and tried to cuddle up in the sand watching the shooting stars overhead.

I fell asleep no problem and woke up with Yik, another volunteer standing over me, nervously looking off into the distance. I sleepily asked what was he doing and he said, “there is something big out there, I think I’m going to wake Lelele.” Lelele was woken and he just told us it was some elephants coming to check out our camp site, no big deal so he relit the fire and said all was fine. I got up and went to the bathroom and when I was coming back there was a HUGE grunt that sounded about four feet away. Knowing my cat like abilities I dove into the 4x4 seeking shelter (along with Molly, another volunteer) at this point Lelele declared this site unsafe and quickly threw everything into the car and said we gots to go. It took us about 30 seconds to tear down our site (grass mats on the ground) and hit the “road” seeking safer land.

At camp site number two the sand was softer, the elephants further away and I fell asleep like a champ. Slept right until sunup. In the morning Lelele told us last night at camp site number 2 we were surrounded by jackals looking for food. Comforting, almost got squished by elephants and eaten by jackals all in one night. After breakfast we loaded up the car with less urgency and drove back to camp site number one to see how far the elephants really were from where we were sleeping. Turns out they were about 50 meters from where we were sleeping. Gulp, a little too close for comfort.

We went back over to the lake to see if the elephants were still there, drinking and bathing for the day but they had wondered into the bush already. Once the elephants enter the bush it is too dangerous for us to enter so we sadly had to call it a day and start our long, bumpy trip back to Hombori.

Overall, seeing the elephants was amazing and sleeping in the desert a once in a life time thing (hopefully), a great vacation I would highly recommend to anyone. Enjoy the photos!

Another adventure that we went on while on vacation in Hombori was climbing the sand dunes. Right on the edge of town, a 40 minute walk the desert starts with these incredibly high sand dunes. Paul told us to were good shoes for the hike and also we would want them for the sand. Well all I had was a good pair of hiking sandals (Keens) I thought that would be good enough.

The 40 minute walk was relatively painless despite all of the prickers that stabbed me. Once we got to the sand, which is when it got hard. Your feet just sink and my sandals filled with sand making it so that every time I lifted my leg, I felt like I was lifting half the dune with me. I finally took off my sandals and enjoyed the scolding hot sand between my toes. We played in the sand for a long time, but the sun was rising and the day was getting too hot to stick around.

The walk back felt like a million years. By 10:30 it was most likely 115 degrees and not to mention we were almost all out of water with a 40 minute walk ahead of us. Needless to say, it was the longest walk of my life. So hot, so far, so dehydrated! Some how or another we all made it back to civilization, i.e. the bar to find cold pop and warm water waiting for us. In the first 15 minutes back, between the five of us, we drank 8 liters of water and 6 Cokes. For the rest of the day we sat at the bar, drinking water and pop until the sun went down enough to walk back the 1/8 of a mile back to the hotel.

Last night I was riding my bike with two fellow Peace Corps volunteers, (going to get pizza!!) when at the only stop sign in Segou we got pulled over. ON OUR BIKES! The police officer starts yelling in Bambara, so I just smile and nod having no idea what is going on. He makes us get off our bikes and walk them to the police station to be held. Our violation, not having a flashlight attached to our bike. First off, we were on a well lit street. Second, it wasn’t yet dark enough to require a light. Third, we were racially profiled (being white we are assumed to have tons of money), none of the other biking Malians were pulled over for not having a flashlight.

So the three of us calmly walk our bikes over to the station where the officer puts our bike in a graveyard of collected motorcycles. We ask to talk to the chief on duty and I call our safety and security officer for Peace Corps. I explain the situation to him, and he talks to the chief of police over the phone. As soon as the phone is handed back to me, the chief asks for our names, we all give our Malian names. Some bean jokes (bean jokes are a way to joke with people, eating beans = farting, hilarious in all cultures) were exchanged and they told us to walk our bikes back home and find some flashlights. A bana (Finished).

We get our bikes back, thank the officers kindly for letting us go so quickly and walk a few blocks past the intersection where we were pulled over, find our flashlights (you NEVER go anywhere with out at least one flashlight) and bike to the hotel where the pizza is, have a few drinks, enjoy the luxury of pizza and laugh at our luck.

That is the story of my one and only moving violation.

Over the weekend some friends of mine went on a peroge ride. Peroges are the flat bottom river boats that take you across the Niger River. Here are some photos from my adventure! Enjoy!!

Leaving Segou on the boat ride

Me, on a boat

Boat traffic

Mark and I on a boat

Cows at the river

Women doing dishes and laundry in the river

Our boat taking on water

A woman carrying two pots on her head

Some babies eating rice with their hands

A hungry hungry (fake) hippo

The other day at work, my co-worker, Fatimata, informed me that she had called someone to come into work and give me a tattoo. Then she proceeded to tell me not to be scared, it will make me look beautiful. I was a little apprehensive because here the word tattoo can be one of two things, a permanent never coming off tattoo or henna.

Fatimata had just had henna done on her hands, so I was hoping it was that. I told myself not to freak out until I saw what was going on, since I’m always just a little out of the loop with the language barrier.

So I sat, waiting for this lady to show up, anticipating what was going to happen. About 2 hours late, she shows up. She sits down next to me, grabs my hand and starts taping off sections. Once the pieces of medical tape were cut, I knew it was henna. HUGE sigh of relief!

So, she cut long strips of medical tape into thin bits and then laid down the tape on my hand, (then came the scary part) she took a straight razor and cut the tape on my hand. Now call me old fashion, but I get a little nervous whenever someone is around my skin with a straight razor so this part took forever. However, I must say she was very gentile with me; she only cut the tape (no skin!).

Traditionally henna is only done on married women, where they write the new last name of the women on her hand so everyone knows she is married. I however was told I could pull off henna even though I’m not married. My “family name” here in Mali is Keita so, keeping with tradition they wanted to spell out Keita on my hand. Now this woman was illiterate meaning she had no idea how to spell Keita or what it even should look like to write. So someone wrote it out on a piece of paper, showed it to her and then had to explain how to write it for her. This was a little nerve racking, I didn’t want Keita to become Kcltn. I few little lines makes all the difference. Thankfully things turned out well in the spelling department.

Once my hand was all taped up we spread on the henna mixture. Henna is a powder mixed with water to make a paste that after left on the skin for an hour turns the skin red. There is another step that by mixing something that looked like sugar and smelled really bad with wood ashes and water and applied will make the red henna turn black. So that is what I did. I had to sit for TWO HOURS with my left hand in a black plastic bag, one hour for the red color and another for the black. But when it all came off it looked good!

I’m writing this post about two weeks after the henna/tattoo day at work and sadly all of the henna is already gone. So don’t worry, it wasn’t a tattoo!

Every Monday is market day for Segou. So today i had the day off of work and thought I would go to the market and pick up some stuff I needed for my house. I slept in a bit, read a bit of my book and since the market doesn't get going until about 10, I thought I would stop by the Post Office.

Back in Guinea my mail came to my door step once a month. Every first Friday (following the first Monday) of the Month it was my little Christmas Day. However here in Mali I have to go to the post office. I find this a much more dissapointing method. I know I have at least 2 packages coming my way so i have been checking the post office regularly and have left empty handed many times.

Today I found out however that packages come in from Bamako on Tuesday and Thursday of every week. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this week I finally get my packages.

Don't let this detur you from sending packages!!! I have NEVER (knock on wood) not gotten a package that was sent to me!

When I was done at the post office I didn't feel like fighting my way threw the crowds in the market so I went to my local boutique (shop) and bought some of the things that I needed.

Its just getting too hot and dusty to do anything anymore. So I biked home and contemplated what color turban I want to buy. (I ultimitly decided on green)

When I got home, it was time to burn my trash and clean my house. You would not believe how much dust i had in my house. I know everyone complains about dust, but we have small dust storms here everyday and when its so hot you have to leave your windows open and the dust just goes everywhere. Its rediculous!! But I cleaned, thats all that matters I guess.

Only 2 more months until i get to come back to America for a VACATION!

During the week of March 22-25 twenty middle school aged girls came from all around the Segou region for our first annual girl’s conference. The theme of this year’s conference was “Take Your Daughter to Work Day!”

On Monday, we split the girls into 4 groups of 5 girls to go to a work shadow. I was one of the volunteer chaperones to go to my work and interview female working women. Unlucky for me, two women from my work weren’t there that day which left us with one woman to interview. The girls spent several hours the night before preparing questions so passing the four hours was easy. My favorite question:

Jeanne “How do you work all day and manage a family?”

Fatimata “I wake up at 4 to start making breakfast for the morning and preparing rice for lunch. I go to work from 8-4 and then come home, sweep the floors, wash dishes and start making dinner. Then every Sunday, my only day off of work, I do laundry for my three kids, husband and myself.” (Not to mention, laundry is all done with a washboard and bucket, sweeping is with a small hand broom and preparing food is three rocks with burning wood underneath.)

After being here this long, it is still hard to believe that this is possible. These women work sun up to sun down literally everyday with out complaining once in their life. After hearing that, it isn’t hard to see why there isn’t a large work force of women in West Africa. But at the same time it is motivating to hear that it can be done.

Because of the style of the conference, we did some of the conference in local language and then about 2/3 in French. Lucky me, I was the only volunteer who spoke good French and I was also the volunteer that had the highest language skills period so I got stuck running most of the sessions or at least translating sections of sessions. That is something we need to work on for next year. The sessions were supposed to be run in bambara but children are never taught to write in bambara, only French. So as soon as anything needed to be written, class had to switch over to French. But it worked out somehow.

We also had a student panel from the trade school where 2 student secretaries, 1 student accountant, and 2 student public health personnel came to talk to the girls. Tons of questions were asked about what is accounting? What does a secretary do? How many boys are in your classes? Where do you get money for school? How can I become a secretary? These were great questions and with the motivating answers the students gave, the girls started to open their eyes to the idea of continuing school and getting a real job.

We did tons of team building exercises including; human knot, human chair, sharks and minnows, limbo (just for fun), telephone, and name game. These girls have never been exposed to crazy games like this and they were very hesitant to trust us at first, but once we did an example and they started opening up everyone had tons of fun.

Overall the week went very well. Information was traded between the girls and volunteers about women’s roles in the house, work, Africa and America. Hopefully we opened the eyes of some of these girls that there is more to life than marrying at 16, having babies and then running a house (sadly this is normal). We showed them women that can do both, women that go to university and wait for marriage, women who were married that are now widowed or divorced and work for a living.

Playing Telephone

Human Knot

Human Chair

Yesterday, my boss asked me what we were going to do for the day. I know in america your boss rairly asks you what you want to do and more tells you what to do but here i have a unique situation. I told Diarra, my boss, I have no idea and reminded him that he is the boss. This went on for a bit and finally i suggested that we go to the market and talk to women about finance.

So Diarra and i go over to one of the three markets in my town. I can tell that he wasn't very comfortable just walking up to people talking about our micro-credit institution so i started us off. I saw some lady sitting infront of a mountain of lettuce and hot peppers and i used my very limited local langue to strike up a conversation. I quickly ran out of things i knew how to say and thankfully Diarra took over and started promoting Miselini (the name of my work) and explaining how micro-credit works. Once he got the hang of it i started wondering around the market. I have learned to love markets, all the bright colors, piles of foods i've never seen and keep saying "I should try that" but rarely do. Once Diarra and I had talked to about six people he said we were done for the day and would return another day. I enjoyed walking around, making friends, and doing a little bit of work.

Then Diarra wanted to go and visit a friend at a radio station, so away we went. Surprisingly his friend was an english teacher too so he was very interested in what ever i had to say, as long as it was in english. I got shown around the station and even got to go on air for a hot second... yikes, me in french on the air. Someone there even told me I look like Alicia Keys with my hair braided. (Ha, last time i checked, i look nothing like her)

Next to the radio station is a bogalon cloth dyeing place that Diarra wanted to show me. Bogalon is using different types of mud from the rivers, bark and leafs from the trees to dye white cotton cloth. Its very traditional african. They explained some of the symbols and what gave the different colors and then we were given our own little square of cloth to africanize. I painted my yellow cloth with the mud and set it out in the sun to dry while i was given a tour of where they make the dyes and how they apply it. Very cool! By the time the tour was done my cloth was dry and it was time to leave since the sun was getting high in the sky and it was time for a nap!

With the heat it is impossible to do anything in the afternoon so i use that time for my daily mid-afternoon nap! Around 5 when it started cooling off a little more i dared to go out and find tea. When i say tea, its nothing like what you are picturing. Tea is a traditional past time that takes hours to prepare. It is very strong sugary green tea surved in a shot glass. I love it! Normally you share three glasses, however i only stayed for the first two and then i got hungery. I have fallen in love with "cho furu furu" which i guess is bean cake is how you would translate it. Maybe i've just been in Africa too long but i swear it tastes like hush puppies from Long John Silvers. So i get some of those with hot peppers and call it a day.

I know it doesn't sound like much, but overall this may have been one of the best days i've had in Mali.

Oh i also want to thank

-Grandma for the People's magazine i just got

-Aunt Mary for the nice letter and photos

Keep the letters and love a coming!

Most of you may not realize that March 8th is International Women’s Day. I had never heard of it until Africa so don’t feel too bad if you had never heard of it either. Last year, my small Guinean village didn’t celebrate it (sadly), whoever this year in Mali we did.

To start off all of the women from my work and I had traditional outfits made with festive fabric. I even went and got my hair braided, partly for the holiday and mostly because it’s too hot. On the morning of the 8th I was told to meet my work ladies by the parking place somewhere by a stop sign. I know real specific. So I find the stop sign I think I’m supposed to be at and hope for the best. There are tons of people there and I know there is no way I am going to find who I am looking for. At that point I am just relying on my white skin to stand out and for them to find me. I get bored of waiting so I start to wander around a bit and then some man comes up to me and grabs me by the arm and kindly leads me over to a bunch of chairs and tells me to sit. So I figure at least if I can’t find my friends at least I’m sitting in the shade.

Surprisingly enough they did find me and we all sat down together. I asked what was going on today since a huge stage was set up and a crowd was forming. No one had any idea. So we sat. Eventually my complimentary water baggie (yes they put water in square plastic bags here) showed up, followed by my free coke and then the most surprising thing of all, my free can of beer. Yes Castel (one of the “brewers” here) was publicizing a new beer and was handing out cans. Mind you, I’m still in a Muslim country where drinking is very much frowned upon. I had no idea what to do. Do I take it or not… Once the ladies next to me took their cans I figured it was ok. Its 10 o’clock in the morning and people are cracking open bottles of beer in public. That just never happens here. I’m looking at the can a little bit closer and I realize it is 0% alcohol. They handed my alcohol less beer. Now mind you, I don’t like Castel, it kind of tastes like pee, formaldehyde and what I imagine anthrax to taste like all in one. So I kindly just left my can on the ground to see a little kid run up and take it.

The events that day were 4 speeches in French that were given by different governmental men thanking women for all of their work around the house and in the community followed by 15 speeches given by different women all in bambara (local language that I can barely understand). I kind of fell asleep during those. Once all those speeches were over there was a skit that I once again couldn’t understand but gauging the laughter of everyone else it was hilarious.

Even though I didn’t understand the majority of what was going on (what else is new) March 8, 2010 turned out to be a great day honoring the women of Segou for all of their hard work.

A boat race on the Niger river

An African puppet dancer

This man came down from Timbuktu for the festival. He danced and sang traditional Malian songs for the crowd.

A dance in the middle of the festival

A monkey mask dancer

African mask dancing with stilts

African mask dances

cheke (or spelled something like that) dish. Pounded manioc with onions, green peppers, tomato, salt, oil and a fried fish. Mmmm so good

Every year in February the expat (ex patriots otherwise known as Americans living over seas) community of Dakar Senegal host a soft ball tournament for the American community living in West Africa. It is a chance for us Peace Corps volunteers to wash off the village dirt, un-braid our hair, put on those old pair of jeans that have been collecting dust and be American.

In case you don’t know, Senegal is right next to Mali however it is one LONG bus ride away. Since there were so many Mali volunteers going we were able to rent an entire bus with 70 some odd places, five to a row. Not even going to lie. It was one hellish ride. The road is rough, the seats were ungodly uncomfortable and it was hot during the day and cold at night and not to mention we left Bamako at 5 in the morning and didn’t get into Dakar until 9 the next morning. One long bus ride. But some how we all made it nearly intact.

Arriving in Dakar, everyone on the bus was ewwing and awing over everything. Dakar is so much more developed than Mali and ten fold more so than Guinea. They have nice restaurants, hotels, and best of all and American Club. I never knew this until I came to Mali but there are these clubs set up around the world set up for Americans or other Westerners so it’s like a little America away from home. They serve hotdogs, nachos, chicken wraps and ice cream. This is also where the games were held for the softball tournament.

You guys know me, I was not going to show off my softball skills and make everyone else feel under par so I along with some others were the camera people along with the cheering squad. The team that I cheered for was the “Refugees” otherwise those known as the former PC Guinea and Mauritania people who are still in Africa. It was great to see some of my former stage mates (people I served with in Guinea) who are now in The Gambia, Benin, Senegal and Burkina Faso. Our team sucked, there is no two ways about it but we all had fun playing the three games in two days.

In all of our extra down time we hung out at the pool, went to the beach and climbed to the light house. We found a cozy little beach called the “Secret Beach” where the waves were big, the surf boards were plentiful and the sun was never setting. Some of my California friends were explaining to me how to surf, I was assured by them it wasn’t that hard and it is fun. Everyone was going out to at least try to ride a wave back in so my turn came up…. I didn’t want to chicken out but I wanted to live too. Adrenalin and some liquid courage started flowing and I decided it would be alright to try it once. I get on the board and start to paddle out and some guy starts screaming for me to come in because the waves were too big. Saved by the gods! I didn’t have to chicken out or look like a fool trying to surf. Relatively quickly the waves turned into these massive crushing beasts of the sea taking down anything it could and I didn’t want to be a part of that so I sat my little butt on the beach working on my broze.

Another morning Mark and I went up to the light house of Dakar. We walked the two miles from our home stay and climbed up the hill along with some other expats in their little track suites while we are in tanks and pants. The light house is open to the public so we got to climb the three flights of stairs to the landing to look out over the massive city. We saw the ports, the mansions, downtown and the islands. It was gorgeous. The lighthouse is also right by the international airport (that I actually flew into when coming to Guinea oh so long ago) so we watched some planes land over the water then the man asked if we wanted to see the light bulb. Um duh I do so Mark and I crawl up this little latter and see the massive spinney thing that rotates and a tiny light bulb around tons of mirrors. I figured it would have been a huge light bulb but sure wasn’t. Then Danielle, another Wright State grad turned Guinea volunteer turned Mali volunteer showed up to take a look at the city, so the three of us took tons of photos and then started to climb down back to the games.

A few eatery highlights of Dakar

-N’ice Cream: an amazing American style ice cream place that had 3 dozen different flavors

-Indiana: an Indian restaurant that made delicious authentic meals

-Magiadore: a little French/Seafood place that was pricy but so worth every bit of it

-Times Cafe: an American diner where you can order a club sandwich and mozzarella sticks

-Chez Lucia: a Portuguese place that served meals so large that it took three people to eat one plate

My softball team didn’t place so we were done early so we had some time to plan a vacation for a few days before we had to get back to Bamako for a wedding. A decent size group of us decided we wanted to go to Touba Djallo, a beach town about an hour from Dakar where the hotel rooms were cheap, the food was fresh, and the beach was stunning.

When we get out to the beach, everything was surprisingly good. Maybe I just have lower expectations after spending so much time in Africa but the people were nice, the food tasty and the hotel room was small, but nice (especially for the price). We spent three nights there and had an amazing time playing in the ocean, jumping in the reasonably tame waves and just hanging out.

Sadly it was time to go back to reality and vacation was over and the long and trying journey back to Mali started again. This time since everyone was going back at different times we didn’t rent an entire bus which means it takes longer. The bus was suppose to leave at 7 but didn’t end up leaving until after 9 and then around 3 in the morning a tire blew out. So there we are, about 14 volunteers and a bus load of Africans on the side of the road, in the middle of the night, in the middle of no where. We were stuck there until morning when someone could find a new tire for a bus once again in the middle of no where. We tried to sleep on the bus but couldn’t get comfortable, some tried to sleep outside but the passing cars were a little too scary. Six hours later a truck finally pulls up with our tire and shortly after we are back on the road. In its entirety it took us 40+ hours to get back to Bamako.

It was a long eventful week that was worth every Franc that I saved up while I Guinea. I had the time of my life, took some amazing photos and got tons of stories that I will remember for the rest of my life.

So I took a little week long vacation to Dakar Senegal here are some photos and expect a few blog enteries about all the good times to come!

Gorez Island from the boat

A painter on Gorez Island

The door in the House of Slaves where there are old quotes from former slaves before they leave Africa

Here as to oradour gleans one only can say never more never!

The Secret Beach in Dakar

The lighthouse of Dakar(which i climbed)

Mark and I after we climbed the light house

A cliff and beach in Dakar

Our blown out tire on the drive back from Senegal which caused a 6 hour delay

Bringing in the days catch

Me on the beach

The beach!

The Hotel i stayed at from the beach

A garden over looking the ocean(Atlantic) where i stayed in Touba Djallo

Sunset over the city of Dakar

Me on Gorez Island off of the coast of Dakar

New Years Eve out to a nice Italian Restaurant in my town

Christmas dinner! mostly sent to us in packages by my mom

A toast to many Christmases to come... around our Charley Brown Christmas Tree

Christmas morning breakfast, mostly sent to us in packages by my mom again

I know long awaited thanksgiving photo

This is the Niger River that runs along my town

A lot of you probably wonder what do I do for major American holidays such as Thanksgiving. Well, its really not all that different from what you do back in the states, I eat! However the prep work is a little different, i.e. everything is from scratch.

One of my fellow volunteers calls me up Tuesday and asked if I would like to have a real American thanksgiving this year. Um, of course I do so I told her I would help. So we plan a menu and agree to go shopping on Wednesday. When I say “go shopping” I don’t mean we met up at the local Wal*Mart and walked around the store throwing everything into the cart. Oh no, nothing close. Megan calls me and tells me she is going turkey shopping at the moment and asks me to come. So I find her, and she is sitting with someone who owns turkeys. He agrees to go get the biggest one and bring it back to where we are.

About 15 minutes later a white Mercedes pulls up and the men pop the trunk and there is a live turkey just chillin’ in the trunk. I of course have to take photos with it but ultimately decided the bird seemed a little small. So our turkey search wasn’t over, but in the mean time we needed to go and get all of the food stuff for dinner at the market place. Thank God someone we knew offered us their car and driver to help with the shopping so Megan and I didn’t have to bike 7 miles with kilos of potatoes and everything else. The market was a relatively normal event for us but as we were crossing the street, heading back to the car the day took a drastic change.

I look left, no cars, I look right, all clear so I start to cross the street. Next thing I know I am pelted from the left side and I am on the ground. I see out of the corner of my eye a motorcycle just a few feet off to my right smashed up on the ground. Once I realize I had just been hit by a motorcycle, I start to check to make sure no bones are sticking out. There wasn’t! But I have road burn on my left leg from my knee cap to my big toe. My right foot is a little banged up. I got hit in the head my the rearview mirror so I have a bump behind my left ear, don’t worry I don’t have a concussion though, my right hand took a little beating and I have bumps and bruises all over. Once I get to my feet I realize the huge crowd forming around this white girl that is all banged up. Megan grabs her water bottle and pours it all on my leg to wash out the rocks and dust while the Malians were screaming that I needed to go to the hospital.

Given normal circumstances, in America I probably would have gone to the hospital to have my leg looked at but here, in West Africa, absolutely not. They would have just poured pure alcohol over my leg and I would have passed out from pain, not to mention Mali is not world renowned for their cleanliness in the medical field. So I thought I couldn’t do worse than the hospital here and decided I should just be taken to someone’s house where I can clean everything really well. So the driver went and found me a block of ice to ice my head while he drove Megan and I back to someone’s house where I could clean out my leg.

At the house, I found the bathtub, and start running water over my leg. Just the water burned so bad but I knew I needed to wash out all the dust and rocks so bit the bullet and cleaned it out really well with soap and water and iodine. I dressed my wounds and bruised ego while Megan went and looked at another turkey.

She came back with a nice looking bird so we had someone kill it and clean it and throw it in the fridge for us. That’s about when I called it a day and gimpily rode my bike home the 7 miles.

On Thursday morning, bright and early around 9 o’clock I set back out on my bike to trek the 7 miles again to help start prepping all of the food. Megan and I had to peel and cut all 3 kilos of potatoes and sweet potatoes without a peeler, wash all the veggies, cut them, steam most of them and prep everything. Thank god we had a Malian cook the bird for us so that was one less stressor for us. But in order to have pumpkin pie we had to carve the pumpkin, boil it, steam it, puree it, and strain it in order to get the stuff Americans pour from a can. Somehow however around 4 we had everything done. The bird was out of the oven and cut, the potatoes were mashed, the green bean casserole was cooked, the gravy was done amazingly I might add, the apple pie was in the oven and the pumpkin puree was waiting for a pie pan to cook. After seven hours of preparing and a lot of googleing later I could not believe we pulled together a full thanksgiving dinner with very limited resources and the most surprising part was everything looked and smelt amazing.

Final count was 11 people, I was a little concerned that there wouldn’t be enough food for everyone but we were going to have to make due at this point. Around seven everyone was there and the reheating process began. So we fired up the oven and reheated everything, set out a buffet spread of deliciousness and released the dogs to the food. By the time it was all said and done, I had snacked on everything all day and wasn’t all that hungry but, come on you can’t pass up a thanksgiving dinner in Africa. So I pilled my plate high and joined the others.

To Megan and my surprise everyone raved about every single dish! People even went back for seconds and one guy even did thirds and there was plenty of food left over! I managed to find room for seconds. I was shocked that everything turned out good, there were no fires, no one got food poisoning and it turned out to be an over all enjoyable experience. However I don’t want to be in charge of another large scale dinner for a long time, maybe not until next year’s thanksgiving.

I just have to say this one more time, I, the girl that can barely make mac and cheese pulled together a thanksgiving dinner that people actually eat, willingly!!

Let the holiday season begin!

P.S. Expect pictures in the coming week, once I get my new camera cord.

Corinna Merrill

Corps De La Paix

B.P. 117

Segou, Mali

West Africa

New mailing address

I feel like the country bumpkin in the big city for the first time. I forgot what it was like without all of the amenities of America. By no means have I cross the Atlantic but coming from my Guinea village to the sprawling metropolis of my new town where I hear I can get ice cream and yes, even Frappuccinos. Well they aren’t the real thing exactly but I hear they exist and I will be trying them out one day soon. There is a tourist market therefore; there is pizza, hamburgers, really awesome souvenirs and one hotel even has a pool. I will have to control myself not to go out every night and get a ham and cheese crepe or a half chicken in a cream sauce but even worse, the souvenirs are so nice, and I want them all.

Yesterday I went down on the Niger River bank and stumbled across a place the dies fabric. I hung out with the men there for a while and then they took me upstairs to the Cabana in the sky overlooking the river. It was like Disney meets Africa. I fully intend to return to that magical place to die my own piece of cloth along with enjoy a cold coke in the Cabana in the sky.

I also went house hunting. I looked at several different houses. Some were too far from work, some were too big, some were too small, but I found one that was just right. It’s a nice apartment overlooking a mango tree and a quiet dirt road. I will be living in the second floor and on the flat roof I will sleep during the hot season. I’ll pull my mattress and mosquito net out and sleep under the stars like all of the other Malians. The best part is, I have running water, a flush toilet and get this, electricity all in my house!!! Therefore, music and movies are welcome (note new mailing address). Really, I listen to my iPod all the time and I need new music, so have your kids, your friends or even yourself pick some of your favorite new songs and send them over.

Well, I have internet access now everyday so expect more blog updates along with more e-mails from your number one favorite person in Africa, other than Madonna (if she is still here).

Well, one chapter of my life is over, and a new is just beginning. Because of the civil unrest and political turmoil of Guinea, the Peace Corps has officially suspended their program for the moment being, pending a civil change of government it fully intends to re-open in the near future. That leaves me along with some of my new closest friends stuck in the middle of it all. Our hearts rest in guinea while we are now scattered all over the world. I along with eleven other volunteers from Guinea have been adopted into the Peace Corps Mali program. Some of my other friends are going to Botswana, Liberia, Senegal, Madagascar, Zambia, Benin, The Gambia and back to America.

The twelve of us staying in Mali have already received our site information. I will be living in a large town on the Niger River working with a microfinance institution helping women’s groups to get and understand loans, I also just heard that a new university opened in my city so I really want to work along side their business program, and there is a huge African music festival in my city once a year so I am very interested in working with the planning of that. I fully intend to hit the ground running and it sounds like I should have no problem staying busy.

So funny story, today in one of our local language (Bombara) sessions, I reached into my purse to grab a pen. I’m fishing around and I find something squishy. I thought for a second, what is squishy in my bag, I couldn’t think of anything so I look down and in my hand, I am squishing a live frog. I scream and throw it across the room. My heart is pounding and everyone stares at me, I point to the stunned frog on the ground and everyone starts laughing. I give my bag to Dorian and make her find my pen because I’m in the middle of having a heart attach and she finds another frog inside my purse. I’m living a little bit closer to nature than I ever really wanted. But it makes for a good laugh. I have found that in moments of extreme stress, you either laugh or cry.

This week I will be continuing more language classes (hopefully with less frogs), Mali culture classes along with administration classes and then the plan is to start moving into sites starting Tuesday next week. It is an exciting yet nerve racking time. I am looking forward to getting to know another culture and make new friends however everything has happened so fast, I haven’t really had a moment to process that I have left guinea and will not be returning and then dropped off in a new town in less than a week not being able to speak the local language. Getting back into a schedule is something I am looking forward to but going threw and putting myself out there and making mistakes is going to be hard again.

I will be continuing my service here, that means I will move into site and stay until February 2011. There are a lot of things I need to re-learn here, for example using an ATM card. Haven’t done that in a few months. I will also pay rent, use a post office, have a job to go to everyday, and learn a bus system. They are so much more developed here in comparison to Guinea. So, all of you that want to come visit, now this is a good change for you. They have paved roads with only 4 people in a car unlike Guinea where the roads were unpaved and you put up to 8 people in a normal Peugeot.

I will also be able to set up my house again which is exciting in its own way. However, I only have one back pack full of all of my clothes to get me started. I will be getting a moving in allowance from the Corps to buy everything again, however there were a lot of things that I left back in Guinea that you can’t get in West Africa, i.e. food! So if you want to send me a new package full of goodies to help ease the pain of being a refugee please stay tuned for a new mailing address and talk to my mom if there is something you have questions about sending or needing ideas.

Soon I will have photos of Mali to post, once I get outside of Bamako (the capital). I now realize how few photos of Guinea I have, and I don’t want to make that mistake again so I want to take tons of photos here. So stay tuned for more updates and photos!

Thanks all for your good wishes, thoughts and prayers. They really do mean a lot.

Well all you all, it’s official. Peace Corps Washington has suspended the Guinea program. I, along with all other volunteers and staff have been holding out on this small little thread of hope that the program will continue but this morning as of 9 am Greenwich time word dropped that due to political and safety reasons the program is thus far suspended.

What is next now? Well I have several options. First off I could COS (close of service) where I would leave the Peace Corps, with full benefits and move back in with mom and dad and find a “real” job. YIKES, a 8-6 job, I don’t think so! I could COS and then re-in role into the Corps. This would mean I would have to go through the 3 months of training again and make a 27 months service commitment. Or I could direct transfer, where I would just transfer into a new Peace Corps country. There is some flexibility with COS dates for the end of the service in the new country.

What will I do? Still don’t know. By Sunday October 25 all Guinea volunteers will have either COSed or transferred, so I don’t have a lot of time to decide. Six days if you are counting. I am kind of playing it by ear at this moment in time. I want to keep my options open. I am really interested in one country’s Small Enterprise Development program but I don’t want to have false hope or jinx myself by saying anything prematurely. So I will wait for the list of countries that want to receive us Peace Corps Guinea evacuees and then read out my options.

So what am I doing now? There are papers upon papers to write. There are resumes to be updated, aspiration statement to be redone, description of services to be had, quarterly reports to finish, not to mention the epic list of my stuff that needs to be qualified and quantified by memory of prices and locations around my house so Peace Corps can pack it up to ship to my next location or give away to my friends and family in Guinea. Then there is medical clearance, fun fun! But wait; there are over 90 of us here so try doing all that with 90 people. It’s going to get crazy quick I’m sure.

How am I feeling? That answer changes every 10 minutes it seems. There are extreme highs (i.e. being with friends in Mali) and extreme lows (realizing your not going back to Guinea). The news of evacuation was not unexpected by any means, I knew it was coming with all of the political unrest that has been surfacing in Conakry but there was always that small thread of hope you hold on to. Well that thread was cut clean. Now, I’m so busy just trying to plan for the next stage of my life, not knowing where that may take me. Once I get a chance to sit and realize what has happened and why my life plans have changed it will all become so real, now I’m just floating in a stage of survival. Find a new home! Once that stage is done, then it will hit I’m sure.

But I am enjoying my remaining few days with some of my closest friends and people who have become my family, enjoying the electricity and running water while I still have it (don’t know if I’ll have that in my new country) and even getting a milkshake now and again poolside at the American club (I know it sure is rough being a “refugee”) and in a weird way, I am looking forward to what the world has to offer for me.