Before I left for Mali, I heard Peace Corps described as “the toughest job you’ll ever love”. Boy is that true. From language barriers to cultural differences to being a replacement volunteer to staring starvation in the face to feeling completely inept and useless to loneliness and homesickness to anemia, giardia and heat rash, the last two years have been far from easy. But, I gradually came to love Kourouma and saying goodbye this past Friday was also far from easy.

The last few weeks at site just flew by. I had so much to do – baby weighings, giving away lots of random things, saying goodbye, etc. Unfortunately rain kind of affected my leaving and saying goodbye to everyone. We had a party planned for last Tuesday night. There was going to be food in the late afternoon, and representatives from all ten villages in the commune were going to gather at the Mayor’s office to eat together and give the Mayor a chance to explain that my two years were up. Well, this is rainy season. At about 4 pm I went to my homologue’s concession to see how the food preparation was going. They already had a huge pot of sauce and a smaller pot of vegetables cooking outside over a fire. I was only there for about a minute though when it just started pouring. I honestly have not seen a rain as big as the one that came that Tuesday. My homologue and some of her friends who had come over to help cook put the rice in the sauce, even though it was raining. By the time the food was ready and the rains had slowed down, half of the village was flooded. So there was no way that the meeting at the Mayor’s and the dance party could happen. No one from any outside village would have been able to travel. We still divided up the food among the Mayor’s concession, Doctor’s office and Village Chief’s concession and moved the dance party to Wednesday night. Well, what do ya know, Wednesday night it poured again! I was beginning to think that Allah just didn’t want me to have a going away party. On Thursday I was pretty stressed because it was my last full day in Kourouma. That morning I hung out with Ninon and Zeini, the two Foh teachers who helped me paint the World Map. They had come to Kourouma to drink tea and chat for a few hours before I had to leave. They also gave me a chicken as a parting gift. That afternoon I spent several hours at Maminatta’s house to see her family and this friend of the family’s who had come from another village just to see me off. I was so nervous that it was going to rain again, but the sky stayed clear and that night we were able to have the party. The instrument played was called the “dununba” which is basically just a giant drum. There was one guy who held that drum, along with several other guys who played smaller percussion instruments. There were also two women who sang. It was a typical Malian dance, with a number of people forming a circle in the center. I danced for one song which lasted about 10 minutes. It was fun because by the time the song was over, there were probably about 70 people in the circle. Unfortunately we weren’t able to have a meeting at the Mayor’s office, as the food had already been cooked on Tuesday and people were a bit unsure of the schedule of events. As a result of that, there were quite a few people, especially from out of town, but some older folks in Kourouma as well, whom I didn’t get to say goodbye to. About half-way through the dance though, Solika and I went to the center of the circle and gave a speech about my leaving, and I was able to give lots of blessings and say thanks to Kourouma as a whole as well as some individuals. By midnight I was exhausted and went on home, in order to wake up before 6 am and finish packing. Friday morning, I had been up for about 5 minutes when some people started stopping by to greet. First to come by were Maminatta’s husband, Madou, and his friend Amadou, on their way to the fields. When they started giving blessings, I just couldn’t help but start crying. Malians are really uncomfortable about crying though and so these two men awkwardly stood up to leave. After they were gone, this kid Brehima, who is about twelve years old, came by. I had given him a straw hat the day before, and he was wearing it when he came to greet me on his way to the fields. He said that my leaving was really not good with him. He said that he had not been able to sleep the night before because he had been thinking about me leaving. And then he gave me a bag of peanuts. Of course that set me off again! Over the course of the morning, many other people came by to say goodbye, several others setting me off again, and all of them just telling me to not cry, which doesn’t help. Several other people came with small gifts as well, all of which were really meaningful. One lady came by with two giant bushels of onions. I ended up being honest and saying that I couldn’t take them on the plane with me; so she took them back and gave me a few coins instead! A neighbor teacher, Diamouthene, brought me mud-cloth hat which was made in his hometown. He said to give it to my mom. Another woman gave me some fabric of this year’s September 22 Malian Independence Day. And my favorite gift: Maminatta and her husband gave me a copy of Thomasi’s birth certificate to give to his namesake! I ended up riding my bike one last time to the main road, and four other people came on two motorcycles with all of my luggage. It started raining again as soon as I had left Kourouma, and by the time I got to the main road, I was soaking wet and covered in mud. It took about two hours for a bus to come by but luckily the sun came out. Solika, Maminatta and her little Thomasi had come on one moto to see me off and they waited with me until the bus came. When the bus came, we had to run to haul all of my stuff on top and I was only able to say quick goodbyes. Driving away was certainly surreal. Even now, I don’t know if it’s hit me that I won’t be going back to Kourouma (at least not for several years).

I have slowly been coming up with a list of parts of Mali that I will miss. This is in random order and I know I’m forgetting some things, but here it is nevertheless:

-The sky – extraordinary sunrises, sunsets and starry nights

-kids both screaming my name out of sheer joy and running in terror

-friendliness of the people, including five minute long greetings with folks you barely know

-Senoufo and Bambara

-mangoes!

-my favorite Malian foods: dege, basii, and rice with peanut butter sauce

-getting so much reading done (86 books and a gazillion sudoku puzzles)

-tea sessions

-sights, sounds and smells of market

-walking down a road and seeing cows, sheep, goats, donkeys, chickens and guinea fowl all together

-balafons, kora, gita and dununba instruments

-joking cousins and bean jokes

-being in an animist village with cool fetishes

-30 cent avocados

-the expressions “Ehh Allah!” and “de!”

-being around so many cute babies all the time

-seeing outrageous clothing that the owner can’t understand: I once saw a shirt that read “Girls Gone Wild Film Crew” and another shirt with a girl’s face that said Christina Aguilera underneath – except the face wasn’t Christina Aguilera’s; bright sparkly hats and other 80’s clothing worn by young adult males

-freshly boiled cows milk with a spoonful of sugar

-going to greet for a couple hours and coming home with tons of onions and more peanuts than could feed a herd of elephants

-Dege-making sessions with Maminatta

-Beautiful fabrics and clothing – colorful basin complets for women and boubous for men

-being able to wear flip-flops year round

-other PCV’s: Mexican nights; movie marathons; true appreciation of a good cold “Flag” beer; occasional splurges on $5 hamburgers topped with egg, fries, mayo and ketchup; people who are going through the exact same thing as you and with whom you can relate

-the sound of women susu’ing (pounding with mortar and pestle) at daybreak

-having 30 kids come by at once to greet (and then promptly chasing them out – my limit is about 5 at a time)

-Djenebou: a little girl obsessed with collecting trash. She would bring me buckets of water in exchange for old bottles. She would ask just about every day if I had any new bottles. For the entire first year I thought she was incredibly annoying. After a while though I came to respect her persistence!

-eating with hands out of a communal bowl (except for spaghetti which is never easy to eat, even with fork and knife)

-going to sleep by 9:30 pm

-my Malian name, Awa (which means Eve) and nickname, Gafu

-one’s trash is another’s treasure: being able to give away broken flip-flops, old cardboard boxes, Newsweek magazines, etc.

-little Oumou and “B”: the two severely malnourished girls with whom I worked with the most. By the time I left, they were no longer in the red or severely malnourished zone (although they were still scared of me). If I had even a tiny bit to do with their weight gain, that makes my entire service worthwhile.

-old men and women who give ten blessings in a row and some of whom still go out into the fields every day

-shooting stars just about every night as I fell asleep under my mosquito net tent

-kids yelling “bon-SOIR Toubabou” at 9 am

-the people of Kourouma: especially Maminatta, Kalilou and Solika

For those who continued to read my blog up ‘til now: Thank you! I really appreciated the comments and I’m glad I could share part of my experience with you. Now I’m off to Egypt for three weeks before heading home to North Carolina, just in time for beautiful fall weather!

Awa

Well, another month past. I celebrated my 24th birthday on July 9th in Kourouma. I know many reading this will roll their eyes, but turning 24 was quite scary! For some reason it just feels much older than 23. One reason for my fears may be due to Malians constantly telling me that I'm old and should be married with kids by now! Alas. I had an easy-going birthday. I invited Solika, Kalilu, and Nyiere over for banana cake after dinner. That morning though, Solika said that we should have chicken at the party. I said that I would give him money for it if he would buy and prepare it. Surprisingly he agreed, and at 8 pm he showed up at my house with a chicken. I thought there was no way he'd have it ready in time for us to eat that night, but he slit the throat, heated water to pluck it, plucked it in literally 3 minutes, pulled out a super sharp knife and had it perfectly chopped up in about 2 minutes and had it cooking with onions and garlic in another five. It was delicious! Kalilu, Nyiere and Bakary, a boy who always walks me home after dinner at my Homologue's house, were also there and we ate and paid tribute to Michael Jackson by listening to some of his greatest hits off of my mp3 player. Just goes to show; Malian men can cook, they just don't.

I had a pet for four days this past month - a hedgehog! After vaccinations in this other village, Solika and I went to greet his girlfriend's family. The father pointed out a hedgehog skin drying on a post. Apparently, a mama hedgehog was walking through the concession one night with her baby walking behind her. Some kids killed her to eat, leaving the baby. The skin was hers, and the father went to get the baby to show me. I held it but it was curled up in a tiny ball because it was scared. The family said that I should take it home to raise, so we got a plastic baggie, poked some holes in the side, and put the hedgehog (I named him Sidiki) inside for the ride back to Kourouma. When we got to my village, I put Sidiki in a big wash basin with some millet and crushed peanuts. He got used to me and would crawl around on my arm, but I became bored with him pretty quickly. Unless you're a masochist, hedgehogs aren't exactly good pets for cuddling. After a few days, I gave him to this little boy, Jean, who really wanted to raise him. The next morning, Jean came to my house and said that Sidiki had escaped from the box that they had put him in. I thought it was probably better, since Sidiki wasn't very happy living in captivity. About a week ago though, Jean came to my house again and said that he saw Sidiki again - he hadn't even left the concession. I asked if he had taken him and let him loose in the fields, and Jean said no. I'll let you guess what Jean did with Sidiki instead.

The last week in July was spent working on a World Map in Foh, a village on the main road about 18 km from Kourouma. As Foh is part of the Kourouma commune, the school director, Zeini Traore, saw the World Map that I did last year and had been asking me for about a year if I could come do one in his village. I went for 9 days total and got some good biking in going to and from Kourouma. It's a good thing that I got so much biking in because Zeini and this other teacher who helped out a ton with the map, Ninon Traore, fed me well! Rice with good sauce and meat pretty much every day; peanuts and hard-boiled guinea fowl eggs for snacks; cold soft drinks and hibiscus juice; enough cups of Malian tea to put me in sugar shock. After learning that I drink beer, they even bought me a beer two different days! One day, we had a pre-lunch snack of goat meat. I was full and offered the last piece to Zeini. Ninon, a big, jovial guy said "No! You need to eat it so that when you go back to Ameriki, people will say, 'Eh, Awa, you got fat!'".

Rainy season is in full-swing. While I'm glad that it's not as hot, there are several downsides to rainy season. One: mangoes are finished, and I can't express how sad I am. Two: clothes take forever to dry. I washed a bunch of t-shirts the other day and hung them out to dry. About an hour later, a pre-rain wind storm came and blew them off the line into the dirt. After cleaning them yet again, I put them inside to dry which took two days due to the humidity. Three: pretty much everyone is out in the fields all day every day, so it's really hard to greet. On Friday morning, I didn't have anything to do and decided to walk around town. I went to a couple of concessions and was able to say hello to a bunch of women who were on their way out to the fields. I finally decided to go to a concession where this old man lives, because he is blind and thus surely would be home. I got to his house and what do you know, he was out in the fields! Apparently he just knows the earth so well that even though he can't see, he can feel what needs to be weeded and what needs to stay. Amazing!

I've had a lot of small, random experiences throughout the last month, some of which I'll describe now. First of all, the soak pit project is complete! We had enough money left to build a well soak pit, which is much more work than nyegen soak pits because the amount of water is so much greater. The pipe needs to be much longer, the pit itself needs to be about four times larger than nyegen pits, and a sediment basin needs to be dug in order to catch excess mud and keep it from filling the main pit too soon. The well soak pit was supposed to be completely constructed while I was at COS conference in Bamako, because as soon as rainy season begins, everyone will be in the fields all day every day and won't have time for other work. Unfortunately the concession where we were to build the pit took forever digging the hole and didn't finish getting rock to fill it until last Saturday, well into June. Last year, rainy season was already in full swing by the end of May, but it was late this year. We began constructing the pit last Sunday and finished Wednesday afternoon. On Thursday morning, the first big rains came and by Friday, farming had begun. We finished the soak pit just in the nick of time!

The school year is officially over. The sixth and ninth graders each have big exams at the end of the year, passing into 2nd cycle school and lycee, respectively. The sixth graders had their exam at the end of May. The week of their exam, I painted a large map of Mali on one of the school walls, across from last years World Map. Three other volunteers came to Kourouma to help, and I'm pleased with how it turned out. Turns out that on the sixth grade exam, the students were presented with a blank map of Mali and had to fill in the major regions and rivers. I saw one of the teachers afterwards and he said that apparently, a couple of students were struggling on that section of the exam - so they walked outside, looked at the freshly painted Mali map, and returned to the test! I couldn't believe it. So glad that my work here is helping some Malian students cheat!

Speaking of the school, my teacher friend, Amadou Cisse, is now a father. His fiance just gave birth to a baby boy in Sikasso. Now, Amadou is the guy who is completely obsessed with President Obama. What is his son's full name? Abdoulaye Obama Cisse! When he first told me, I assumed that the Obama was an unofficial nick-name. But later Amadou came over to show me the official birth certificate. And sure enough, Abdoulaye Obama! I had heard that President Obama has lots of namesakes being born throughout Africa, but I hadn't seen it first-hand yet.

A few weeks ago, I returned home after dinner at my Homologue's house to find a black, lobster-sized scorpion in front of my front door. At first I thought it was just a plastic toy, set out as a cruel joke. Then I remembered that there is no Toys-R-Us in Kourouma where kids can stock up on the latest gag gifts. I hesitated for a moment, contemplating a course of action. I didn't want to try and kill it with my flimsy flip-flops, but the scorpion was blocking the entrance to my house where I could have gotten a sturdier smashing device. Finally I just decided to get my neighbors, who came over and beat it to death with a stick. They said that the big ones like that don't kill people or anything if they sting, it just hurts. Their reassurances unfortunately were not enough to keep me from fretting all night about scorpions getting under my mosquito net tent and stinging me to death!

While things have been going really well in Kourouma, there is never an absence of frustration. About a month ago, I went to visit little Oumou, the severely malnourished girl who never got breast milk because her mother is a student in Sikasso and after giving birth, left Oumou in the care of her grandmother. As I was talking with the grandmother, Fatima, she told me that Oumou's mother, Selimatou, recently had another baby! The father of this baby is different than Oumou's father, but is from Kourouma as well. Shortly before I spoke with Fatima, Selimatou had brought the new baby to Kourouma, left it with the father's family and returned to Sikasso. When I heard this, I was livid. The irresponsibility and immaturity of Selimatou (and both of the fathers) is dumb-founding. Now she will have not just one, but two daughters who could have but will not have received breast milk. I went to visit the new baby a few days after the conversation with Fatima, and while she's doing okay, the father is spending a lot of money on expensive milk powder. The father's mother, who is the primary caretaker, is very stressed out, having a newborn to care for all of a sudden. Oumou is now walking and has gotten a few teeth, but she isn't talking yet, is over two years old and pretty much refuses to be held by anyone but Fatima (she is absolutely terrified of me).

A few weeks ago, I was walking home in the late afternoon and passed Nyiere, a guy who works at the CSCOM. He asked if I was going to get water. I said yes and then asked if he wanted to help. He jokingly said, "oh yeah, bring two buckets and I'll carry one". So I did. When he saw me approaching with the extra bucket, he burst out laughing, but when I thrust it into his hands and made him walk to the pump, he became visibly more and more embarrassed. He did end up carrying the water all the way to my house (amid laughter by some kids playing soccer) and then quickly put it down and literally ran away so I wouldn't make him get more. Since then, when I've asked if he wants to help get water, he replies with a quick and firm "no". It was really funny, but also kind of sad. Men simply refuse to do simple chores here, because it's the woman's job, case closed. People still comment on my dad going to get water when he was in Kourouma, and that was almost a year ago! Well, I guess that's about it. Good luck to Emma and Alex who are being sworn-in as Ukrainian Peace Corps volunteers on Thursday! Awa

April was spent planning for and beginning construction of over 100 soak pits throughout the 10 villages of the Kourouma commune. A soak pit is basically a big hole in the ground, filled with sand, gravel and rock, with a pipe entering it from the water source. In our pits, the pipe led out from nyegens. The idea of soak pits is to reduce the amount of standing water, and thus decrease the number of mosquito breeding places which will decrease the risk of malaria. Soak pits also eliminate the smell that comes from the pools of standing water. For anyone who donated money to help buy the materials, thank you! Another idea for this project was simply to introduce the idea of soak pits as an easy way to eliminate standing water. In my village, I had to buy more piping because so many people wanted a soak pit after we built the first ten! I got to make several trips to Sikasso and my market town to buy supplies. One day, I had a rice sack with 170 meters of black plastic inside strapped on to my bike. Another day I rode with 12, one-meter long PVC pipes. Despite the cumbersome loads, having all that stuff on my bike made me feel like a true Malian. I'm ready now for a basket full of goats or sheep to strap on!

The Ciwaara, or dancing bush, fetish came out a couple of weeks ago, which I always love watching. One of my friends came from Sikasso to see the fetish, and I think that having two toubabs caused quite a stir. The tallest fetish chased after us a number of times, and even though I know it won't hurt me, being chased by a 7-foot tall bush-like creature is slightly frightening nonetheless!

On the night of April 27th, I had a birthday party for my mom with several teacher and CSCOM friends. Back in January, I happened to mention to this silly guy who works at the CSCOM, named Nyiere, that my mother's birthday was the 28th. He got really excited and said that when the time rolled around, we'd have a party for her. I thought that he would forget, but about a month beforehand he brought it up again, and continued to talk about it every day after that. Of course he wanted food, and not just any food, but meat, and of course since he is a male, he can't help cook it; so at about 7 pm, his girlfriend and one of her friends came over and we made spaghetti in meat and tomato sauce. The meat took forever to cook, and we didn't finish completely until 10pm. We took the food over to some other teachers' house and ate and listened to music (Akon and Michael Jackson). I was a bit annoyed with the whole food situation, but it turned out to be fun. Nyiere and this teacher who we call Cisse sang a very interesting version of Happy Birthday, which I was able to capture on my camera. We also took about 30 other random pictures, on of which is below.

I had a conversation about arranged marriages with Maminatta the other day. She herself did not want to marry her husband. She wanted to marry a Bamako guy, but once her family decided that she would marry her current husband, there was nothing she could do about it. Her old sister, Awa, has a 13 year old daughter. Awa's family had planned to marry her off to a concession across town, but the head of that concession, who is probably around 70 years old, does not want her to marry one of his sons. He himself wants to marry her! Of course I was very disturbed by that, and asked if Awa, the mother, agrees with that. Maminatta said that whether Awa agrees or not won't make a difference, because Awa's husband has agreed to the arrangement. He is the head of the family; therefore it is his decision.We were busy with baby weighings toward the end of April. In one village, Zagneguebougou, I weighed a 2 year old girl who was only 5 kilos, or about 10 pounds. I told the mom that she needed to take her to the CSCOM, but I figured she wouldn't. Lo and behold though, a few days later, the woman and daughter, along with the father, stopped by my house on their way to the CSCOM. They were able to get some extra advice from the doctor, along with some multivitamins and other substances to help her grow a bit. I was really happy that the woman listened to me and that they took the time to come to Kourouma. I told the father several specific calorie-dense foods to give her occasionally, and he genuinely seemed like he was going to heed my advice. That's what I've been up to in Kourouma (that and devouring the entire Twilight series - yeah, I know I'm not 12 years old. The books are addicting). This past week was our COS (Close of Service) conference in Bamako. It was good to see the folks who I came to Mali with (52 out of about 81 are still here), although I also had to go ahead and say goodbye to some folks as well. My COS date is August 27th. It's hard to believe that I only have three months left in Mali. Time flies!

I have yet to get past page one of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, which has been gathering dust on my bookshelf for the past six months. The first sentence rings true though in Kourouma right now. It is the best of times because…mangoes are here! My impatient waiting for the last few months has finally come to an end. Unfortunately however; with mangoes come the worst of times: hot season. I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that there are beads of sweat covering my face from 8 am to 8 pm and it is steadily in the 90’s.

I am in Sikasso after spending over four weeks at site. The reason I stayed in Kourouma for so long was so that I could do a HEARTH, a twelve-day program with women who have malnourished babies. There were twelve women and babies in this HEARTH. We came together every day to prepare an ameliorated porridge together, to then divide and feed to the kids, and discuss different health topics, such as the food groups, weaning, diarrhea, malaria, and family planning. The women themselves provided corn, peanut, soybean, millet and rice powder, and we also added Moringa tree powder every day, along with bananas, mango or papaya almost every day. The idea for ameliorated porridge is to include all three food groups (here we emphasize only three: protection foods such as fruits and veggies, construction foods such as protein and dairy, and energy foods, mostly carbs) and use local ingredients so that the women will hopefully continue to make ameliorated porridge even after HEARTH is over. I weighed the babies on the first and last days, and while there were a few who didn’t gain weight, no one lost weight. Despite attendance issues (on average about eight women showed up each day) and time (we were to meet at 2 o’clock each day but usually didn’t start until 4) I am overall very pleased with how HEARTH turned out. Hopefully the women now understand the importance of ameliorated porridge in getting a variety of nutrients into their babies, and now are more educated on different health topics. For me personally, it was great to get to know a group of women whom previously I recognized through baby weighings but wasn’t on a first-name basis with.

One piece of exciting news is that Maminatta had a baby boy on March 18th. I was honestly very worried about her pregnancy because she already has a herd of kids and her youngest, Sanata is only a year and a half old and underweight (she’s not walking on her own yet). Now that she’s had the baby though, I think things will be okay. And guess who the baby is named after – my dad! After she delivered, I asked how they would name the baby (a couple of her kids were named by the Imam and other kids were named after family members). She said that her husband’s older brother who is chief of their concession would pick out the name. She said the baby might be named Lamine, after her husband’s father who just died two weeks ago. Then she said that if that didn’t happen, I could think of a Christian name for him. I said that I would have to think of some names, and she said, “Well what’s your old man’s name?” I said Thomas and she said, “Thomasi Traore – that sounds pretty good.” Almost everyone I know with a Christian name has an “i” at the end, for example Moniqui and Ivertti. So Maminatta asked her husband who asked his older brother and there is now the first Thomasi in Kourouma and probably all of Mali. I feel honored that she would think to name the baby after my family.

There have been several deaths and thus plenty of greeting to do. In early February I greeted at a Sarakati (held seven days after the person dies) for an old Muslim man who owned a butiki that is right across the street from my homologue’s house. I got there at about 8 am and sat on a mat with some other women. The men were clustered together in another part of the concession. We sat for about forty-five minutes; some women chatting, others silent. At one point a man walked around with an offering basket for people to make small gifts, and later on women walked through passing out hard candies. Communal bowls of rice and sauce were also dispersed, but I followed some people and got up to leave as rice and sauce early in the morning wasn’t very appealing to me.

I wrote earlier that Maminatta’s father-in-law, Lamine, died a few weeks ago. He was Animist, so funeral greetings were slightly different. He died on a Wednesday afternoon and beginning Thursday morning, men from the concession began playing traditional instruments such as drums and a guitar-like instrument. I went to greet at noon and there was a line of people slowly dancing in an area next to the concession, led by the musicians who were wearing mud cloth outfits. Towards the back of the line were Lamine’s daughters, their clothing covered in mud. I asked Maminatta why they were covered in mud, but she just said that it was tradition for the daughters of a deceased Animist male to cover their clothes in mud. The line of people entered the concession, where the musicians stopped to play for a group of old men. They took a brief break and then continued playing music and dancing until late afternoon.

A few weeks ago a young pregnant woman came to the CSCOM from another village. When I saw her she was clearly in severe pain with malaria. She was put in a bed and attached to an IV. That afternoon, when I walked into the CSCOM concession to get water, I was surprised to see about twenty old men sitting on mats next to the pharmacy and in another cluster, a group of old women. I asked around and learned that the pregnant woman had died and a group of men had already taken her to the edge of village to bury her. Some women placed buckets filled with water outside of the CSCOM so that the men returning from the burial could wash their hands. I sat for a few minutes, offered blessings, then got my water and went home. As soon as I got home, a wind storm blew up. I stood in my kitchen, watching the CSCOM entrance through the crack between the wall and door. Pretty soon, a group of men returned from the burial site, and I could just make out their outlines as they struggled to walk through the heavy winds. As I was watching them bend down to wash their hands, I wondered if the woman’s husband was among them; the man I had given a blessing to that very morning, that his wife and unborn child would get better. Tragic deaths like that are so common in Mali that they’re not even a huge deal. It’s amazing to think of differences like that between here and the US.

After all this writing of death, I shall finish with a more humorous story. There isn’t a lot that shocks me anymore in Mali, but a few weeks ago I saw something that I just couldn’t get over. I was hanging out with this funny old woman named Ma, who likes to annoy me by only speaking in Senoufo when she knows perfectly well that I can’t understand. At one point, this little girl named Biba, who is about five years old, walked up. She was crying softly and Ma called her over. She hugged Biba to her and Biba leaned her head against Ma’s chest. Slowly, Biba reached her hand down Ma’s shirt collar, pulled out a sagging (milk less) breast, and proceeded to suck/chew on the nipple for about five minutes. Now I’ve seen babies or toddlers suck on a grandmother’s breast before, but never a child as old as Biba. I asked Biba if she wasn’t old, and Ma just laughed, pulling out her other breast and explaining that there was indeed, no breast milk there!

I hope everyone is happy and content in the US of A. I want to send a shout out to Emma and Alex who are about to depart for Peace Corps Ukraine - please keep our mother in your prayers that she doesn't have a nervous breakdown what with all of her kids out of the country at the same time! Also, GO HEELS - sweet 16 woo!

It’s 10 am in Sikasso, and I’m still cold! For the past three weeks, I’ve been wearing long skirts at site, sleeping under a wool blanket and heating my bath water. Every evening at my homologue’s house, we gather around a small bonfire. I have a clock in my house that measures temperature - it usually reads in the low 70’s, which isn’t that cold, but is certainly not hot. I love it!

I’ve just spent two and a half weeks at site, after my long vacation to the States. Going back to Kourouma after such a long time wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated. Yes, a lot of people told me I’d been gone for a long time, yes some people told me I’d gained weight, but other people told me that my skin looked really good which was a nice compliment. There was of course lots of news to catch up on, mostly deaths. One old man who had died was the chief of one of the major fetishes, the Waara fetish. Forty days after a person dies, there is an event called a Sarakabo, where community members gather in the concession of the deceased in order to greet their family. For this man’s Sarakabo, the Waara fetish was out the entire day. At around 1 am on the morning of the event, I heard gunshots, drums and singing which lasted until late morning. The fetish came out again in the afternoon and stayed out until evening. After dinner, my homologue and I walked over to watch. I’d seen the Waara fetish several times before, but it never ceases to hold my attention. There were a bunch of women and men dancing in a circle. Some of the men were wearing the traditional outfit of white shorts and no shirts. Many were holding burning branches. My homologue had her six month old baby strapped to her back, and at one point when a guy holding a bunch of burning sticks started walking toward us, she turned around and sprinted fifty yards down the road. It was one of the funniest things I’d seen in a long time.

There was another Sarakabo which took place for a young woman who had died of malaria. I didn’t know her, but am friends with her father and a couple of other people in her concession. When I went to greet her father, he and about seven other old men were sitting in a room. They offered me millet beer and were just hanging out. A couple men had spools of cotton and were sewing shirts. A couple men were trimming branches to weave into mats, and a couple men were sleeping. After I left the concession, I went over to Maminatta’s to hang out with her. I told her about cremation and she was shocked. The thought that someone would have their body burned was just inconceivable to her. In Kourouma, if someone dies, they are wrapped in white and buried immediately. There is no viewing. Visitation occurs immediately after the death and later at the Sarakabo. We also got on the subject of suicide. Maminatta was also interested to learn about this, and then told me that in Mali, if an old man or woman dies, and one of their children is extremely unhappy; they can ask the dead parent to kill them, and then they’ll die as well.

A few days after getting back to site, I went to visit another friend whose name is also Maminatta. She had a little girl, Wassa, who was about a year and a half old. Wassa was underweight and had attended a porridge-making session last Spring. When I got to Maminatta’s, I casually asked how Wassa was doing. Maminatta hesitated and said that Wassa had left. Not really thinking, I asked where she had gone. Maminatta said that she had died. Apparently she had malaria, although I’m sure the fact that she was malnourished didn’t help. Although Wassa was scared of me and wouldn’t let me hold her, I knew her well, and so her death was harder to hear about than any other child’s deaths that I’ve heard about since coming to Mali.

I spent one week at the school, wrapping up HIV/AIDS animations. I want to turn my focus now to family planning, as teen pregnancy is a major problem in the commune. One day, I had started speaking with one of the 7th grade classes but they would not settle down and listen. The 2nd cycle school director walked in holding a rubber strap. I thought he was just going to threaten the students, but he walked over to a boy and gave him a quick swat on the head. Then he turned to a girl who was talking and smacked her one, two, three times on the back with the strap. Some of the kids around her were kind of smiling and laughing, so I thought it must not hurt that bad, but when I looked at the girl, she had tears running down her face. So yes, there are a few differences in school discipline between the United States and Mali.

There are a couple of young teachers in Kourouma who are huge fans of Barack Obama. Anyone who regularly listens to the radio knows who Obama is, but these two men absolutely love him. I gave each of them an Obama sticker to put on their motorcycles, and an Obama/Biden poster to hang in their house. They were really excited about these gifts. On January 20th, as I was returning to my house from the water pump, I heard “Awa” and then “O-BAM-A, O-BAM-A” and turned to see one of the teachers, Amadou, looking over his concession wall and pumping his fist in the air. I went over and he and the other teacher, Coulibably, were listening to the inauguration ceremony on the radio. They switched it to an English station so I could listen for a few minutes. I know there are some concerns about the pressure that people in African countries may place on Obama, but the enthusiasm of these two men was fun to see nonetheless!

I like the movie Casablanca, but after spending fifteen hours in the city I can safely say that I will never live there! It’s a fairly clean city with little trash, and it’s located right on the Atlantic coast, with a beautiful beach. The second largest mosque in the world (next to Mecca in Saudi Arabia) is there and it is stunning with doors and other decorations made from tiny, colorful mosaic tiles. There are many patisseries and shops, reminding me of Paris. The traditional Moroccan food that I tried was also very tasty. But then there was the traffic. I thought Bamako traffic was bad – not compared to Casablanca. There are a gazillion cars on the road, all rushing and never really paying attention. I have never been more scared for my life!

Overall my day in Casablanca was good. I was there on layover from New York to Bamako (I spent three weeks in North Carolina for the Christmas season). On the flight, I was sitting next to a Moroccan woman named Souad who had lived in South Carolina for ten years but was going home to spend three weeks with her family. When she heard that I had a fifteen hour layover in Casablanca, she basically took me under her wing and suggested that I go home with her. We met her parents and two siblings at the airport and the six of us squeezed into her father’s tiny car for the forty minute drive to the city. They lived in a nice apartment with a view to the ocean. Her mom made enough breakfast to feed an army, consisting of crepes and honey butter, hard-boiled eggs, homemade English muffin-type things with cheese, and lemon bunt cake. After the meal I took a three-hour long nap and awoke to a heaping plate of couscous with vegetables and a glass of buttermilk. Needless to say I had my fair share of traditional Moroccan food. That afternoon, Souad and I walked to the coast, went to see the mosque, and wandered around the shops downtown.

My fear of the traffic was justified that evening when I got in a taxi to go to the train station. It was dark at that point and drizzling. I was sitting behind the driver and there were two other passengers in the car. At one point we ended up in the middle of a busy intersection (I don’t know how). There was one car parallel to us on the right side, thus blocking the driver from being able to see cars driving toward us from the right. The taxi driver inched forward at first and then must have thought we were in the clear, and pushed harder on the gas to go forward. Unfortunately we were not in the clear and a car ran into the side of our taxi. I hit my head a little bit and the lady sitting next to me hit hers pretty hard, but luckily no one was injured. I got out to see a big dent on the right side of the car and then caught another taxi as quickly as possible and kept my eyes shut for the rest of the drive to the train station. The second taxi got there safely and I got a train to the airport. So now I can not only say that I’ve been to Casablanca, but that I was in a car accident in Casablanca!

Right before boarding the plane to Bamako, I was suddenly switched to first class which was pretty awesome. The seat was roomy and we got a three course meal, including a cheese sampler consisting of brie and two other types of cheese. I ate every bite of the cheese, anticipating the only available cheese in Mali: Laughing Cow which has a consistency similar to plastic. I’ll be honest; I wasn’t incredibly eager to get back to Mali. When the plane landed though, and I started hearing more Bambara and seeing familiar sights, I was happy. I’m not looking forward to my immediate return to site where I already know for a fact that I will be bombarded with comments on how long I was gone and how much weight I gained, but after settling in, it will be good to be at my house and see my friends. It was great to see some of you over Christmas. I truly had a wonderful time catching up with family and friends, eating lots (avoiding rice, corn, potatoes and pasta when possible), listening to and singing carols, going to the Winston-Salem Candle Tea, playing on the Wii, running outside in cold weather, and hiking in the mountains. Happy New Year!

Awa

What’s new in Mali? Well it’s the end of November, and therefore cold season has begun. Either it’s colder than it was last year or I’ve just been in Mali too long; either way, I’ve already broken out the long-sleeved shirts for mornings and evenings, have been sleeping indoors, and heat my bath water. And, I tried to wait until after Thanksgiving, but haven’t had enough willpower and have been listening to Christmas music for two and a half weeks now.

Life is still chugging along in Kourouma, with simple pleasures such as joking cousins and bean jokes to make me smile. As I was giving blessings to one of my favorite old men in village, who happens to be a Diarra and therefore my biggest joking cousin, I prayed that he would have a peaceful afternoon and also that God would give him lots of beans!

I still hang out with my best friend at site, Maminatta, pretty much every day. Because of the slow work schedule, if Maminatta wasn’t around I think I would go crazy some days! We got together again to make Dege one day and went to watch a fetish dance another day, which is always entertaining. The men had come out the night before and I woke up at 2 am to hear their drums and singing. They held a small dance the next afternoon which women could watch. Some men came to the dance carrying these huge bags on their heads. Because they had sacrificed a chicken the night before, I thought that the bags were full of chicken bones or something but apparently they are where traditional medicines are stored.

The week after the US Presidential election (yay!) was full of vaccinations and baby weighings in Kourouma and the surrounding villages. A lot of times I wonder if the women actually listen to my advice, but the other day a woman whose baby gained half a kilo told me excitedly that after I told her to start giving her baby porridge, she did, and now her child’s heavier! This past week was slow in the mornings, but I walked around a lot greeting folks whom I haven’t seen in a while. In one huge concession, from the time I entered to the time I left, I was literally surrounded by about twenty young kids – “Toubabou Awa, Toubabou Awa!!!” I did one week of AIDS animations in the school, which went alright, although I was pretty frustrated that only one out of eighty or so 9th graders could tell me what AIDS stands for – even though we went over it at least three times last school year!

Even though I’ve been in Mali for almost a year and a half, there are still culture shock moments. One came a few weeks ago when I learned that one of the women who work at the Kourouma CSCOM is a fourth wife! I thought that she was her husband’s only wife, but apparently he has three others in a nearby village. And the other day, an unmarried teenage girl in Maminatta’s concession gave birth to a one kilo (about two pound) baby girl. Despite how tiny the baby was, the mother went home pretty much immediately after giving birth.

Thanksgiving has arrived. I hope that you all have a wonderful Holiday with lots of good food and people to share it with!

Anna / Awa

It’s been several months since I’ve written actual Kourouma news, so here goes…Rainy season was in full swing for July and August, so most of the village (everyone except young kids and really old folks) were out in the fields all day every day farming peanuts, corn, millet, rice, peppers and soybeans – to last until next rainy season. Luckily the rains were plentiful so the harvests are large. Ramadan began the first of September and just ended on the 30th, so many people fasted from dawn to dusk. I personally like Ramadan because a millet-based porridge called Seri is prepared every day to break the fast. It’s delicious and I could drink it all day long!

The biggest event of the past few months was the 48th Malian Independence Day. The fête kicked off with a dance competition the night before. A group of teens from different villages in the commune would each dance and the judges eventually narrowed it down to the three best girls and guys for the entire commune. The dance basically consists of the individual moving his/her legs back and forth as fast as possible. It got a bit repetitive but most of them put Michael Jackson to shame. One guy did his dance with a cigarette hanging from his mouth which reminded me of Fred Astaire – and anyone who can bring Fred Astaire to mind has my vote! I ended up going home before it was all over, and it was 2:45 am! Despite the late night though, everyone was up by 7 am to see the start of a 46 km bike race. While the biking was going on, other events took place in the school courtyard, such as this one game where little kids had to try to climb or jump high enough on a soap-coated pole to reach prizes of candy or crackers dangling from a hoop at the top. The Mayor, village Chief, school teachers and all the other bigwigs of the commune were sitting in the middle of the courtyard watching everything. When the bikers returned racing to the finish line, everyone went running to the road to see who would win – 2,500 plus people running in a fairly small area equals total pandemonium! I was thankful not to get trampled and ruin my new complet of Independence Day fabric. The bikers then came to the area where the leaders were sitting and the Mayor commenced to give a looong speech about Independence Day, what all Kourouma has accomplished and different organizations (he mentioned Peace Corps which made me happy). Afterwards, prizes were given to the winners of the dance competition and bike race. There may have been no funnel cakes or fireworks, but it was a fun Independence Day nonetheless!

I have a best friend in village! Her name’s Maminatta. She said she’s my age, is married with four boys and two girls, has a co-wife and hasn’t spent a day in school. She is fun and easy to talk to and we hang out pretty much every day. We talk about day to day goings on, have boy talk, and even delve into subjects such as AIDS. One day she mentioned that if a guy has a lot of girlfriends they could get sick. I asked her which sickness and she said the one which can make people lose weight or get skin sores. I asked what the name of this illness was. She asked me if I knew, and I said yes but I wanted to hear her say it. She got kind’ve flustered but after a few seconds, whispered SIDA. She knows some basics, such as that you can’t get it just from eating with someone and it can take years to get symptoms. It was nice to have this frank, open conversation with her, because most people shy away from the subject.

There are still occasional reminders that I’m living in the 3rd poorest country in the world. In the last month, I’ve heard of two young kids in my village dying of kwashiorkor, or protein deficiency. One little girl I knew. Birth rates are extremely high and I just heard about a 9th grader in another village who died from an overdose of pills she had taken to try and give herself an abortion. There is an awful section of road leading into my village and it floods with heavy rain. One morning it had poured for several hours and I walked down to see the road. It was flooded but the water didn’t stop people from going to their fields. They picked up their bikes, rolled up their pant legs or hiked up their skirts, and waded across. One woman walked across with a bowl of food balanced on her head and a baby who couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks old strapped to her back. Then along came a couple of young boys who led an entire herd of cattle across!

As for work, well there hasn’t been much. My big project for the quarter was to paint a mural of the three food groups on a wall at the CSCOM, and then I’ve been doing animations to explain it with the women who come to baby weighings. I’ve gone to a couple other villages to do baby weighings, but other than that there hasn’t been a lot to do. So I spend my days greeting and reading. I went to the fields one day to help pick peanuts and have done other random things such as one day helping women beat shea butter and another day helping to form balls of crushed soybeans which are later sold and used in sauce as flavoring. Maminatta and I prepared Dege one morning. Dege is a millet and milk porridge which is my favorite food in Mali, but isn’t that common in village. I passed my one-year at village point the other week, which is still hard to believe. Time really does fly by! For those of you who are still reading my blog, I hope things are going well and remember that I really appreciate comments! Alla k'aw keneya soro (May God give you health), Anna

Finally, you all can read about my family’s trip here in Mali! Here are Emma’s and Mommy’s thoughts, first with Susan:

Thoughts on Mali Trip, July 2008

One thing I really learned on this trip was that I am not a 3rd world country traveler. It’s not that I mind roughing it; it’s just that what I consider roughing it is nowhere close to what traveling in Mali is like! There are none of the basic conveniences or services that we so much take for granted. For the most part we didn’t have banks, electricity, cold food/drinks, bathrooms, running water, phone reception, etc., etc. Using a teller card, Visa, Travelers Checks, just didn’t work at all. We basically had to figure out how much money we’d be spending during the entire trip of 3 weeks, go to a Teller machine in Bamako (the one & only in Mali where our teller card worked) and carry the CFA all with us, cash! I’m not used to walking around with wads of cash in my money pouch even with it hidden under my shirt.

With Anna we traveled near Timbuktu, the Dogon Region, and Djenne. We traveled by van, taxi, bus, car, ferry, camel, baché (van size public transports), dump truck, pinasse (very small long boat), taxi, and on foot. Thomas said that he thought all old vehicles in the world were sent to Mali when they were worn out. We traveled on some old buses, but they always got us where we were going. The vans or bashes were always packed with as many people as they could fit inside with luggage and maybe more people sitting up on top. They were always hot with windows open (hopefully) for air to flow, but letting in the red dust as well. The roads in Mali are pretty rough. Our road in the Ashe County boonies is 3 times nicer than the highway between Sikasso & Bamako (the two biggest cities in the country). We rented a car & driver for the 7 hour trip from Mopti to an area near Timbuktu. After the first 2 hours on a horrible paved road full of pot holes we made a turn onto an unpaved sand road for the rest of the trip. That was a true “washboard” type road, at times so bad the driver went off the side to drive through the sand. It was the about the worse drive I’ve ever been on, all I could do was pray we wouldn’t break down and that the trip would end safely. It did, but then we had to do the same trip again in 2 days when we left Timbuktu to go back to Mopti! The 3 day cruise on the Bani River was actually pretty nice, and luckily the weather was great. If it had rained we really would have been stuck “up the creek”. The sad thing about the river was that it was too polluted to even dip our hand in. The erosion is really bad so the rivers are dirt colored to begin with. Add to that a lot of people washing themselves and vehicles, animals, trash, etc. and it’s pretty bad. We did enjoy the time on the river, sights along the way, and beautiful sunsets. The boat owner cooked nice meals for us (with fresh fish), we read & played cards, and enjoyed quiet time together.

Though there were some pushy sales type people in the tourist areas, the people in Mali were really nice. We felt safe everywhere we went. The pollution on the other hand was really bad. There doesn’t seem to be any system of trash pickup or removal (other than at the hotels or Anna’s house we never saw a trash can). They use a lot of plastic bags of all sizes for food items etc. and they all end up on the ground. Animals are roaming around loose all over and their droppings are everywhere too. A lot of places had open sewers and we even saw sewage running on the road. I thought the cleanest place we saw was actually Anna’s village. (Maybe because of the medical center and presence of Peace Corp there, I’m not sure.) After 11 days on the road spending each night in a different place we finally arrived in Kourouma for a 7 day stay.

From the minute we got to Anna’s village we were welcomed by everyone with open arms. The neighbors came out to greet “Awa’s family” with smiles all around. Anna taught us to greet in Bambara, and people were so happy when we made attempts to talk in their language. Greeting is very important & formal and we spent a lot of time in Kourouma greeting people. The children were wonderful too, and there were bunches of kids everywhere. Any time the gate to Anna’s concession was open children would come in just to sit and visit, or check to see what the Toubab’s (translated French people since most white people in Mali are actually French) were up to. Since we were in Mali during rainy season most of the adults were out in the fields during the days. The babies are with their mothers (actually tied on their backs) and the school age kids are working along with the adults. That leaves the pre-school age children in the village basically on their own running around wherever they want. Coming from the safety conscience American world it was very different.

We had more than enough to eat in Mali, though it was quite a bit different from what we are used to. My favorite was the pasta with onion sauce. A lot of chickens met their fate while we were in Mali; small ones are cooked in a lot of the sauces. I didn’t care for the millet porridge, but was happy to eat up Anna’s oatmeal packets. We were lucky to be in Mali when mangos were in season and ate them for dessert about every meal. It was nice to be able to buy cold yogurt (liquid in a plastic bag) when we were in bigger towns. (I must admit I was happy to get on Air France and enjoy a wonderful meal with a glass of wine on our flight out of Bamako!)

My favorite thoughts of Mali include: friendly smiling faces; my handmade Peace Corp Mali bag; cold Mali beer (in bottles); laughs as we all got “up” on our camels for the ride into the desert; beautiful views during our hike in the Dogon; sleeping under mosquito nets “up on the roof” under the stars; our guide Oumar “it’s complicated”; the clear waterfall near Ende; the endless patience of the local people; card games on the Bani; our chicken dinner in Djenne; beautiful children wanting to hold our hands wherever we walked; Nutella; Anna’s wonderful front porch (great shade all day long); having a 3 week old baby tied on my back after her mother “went home”; seeing the children with their Carolina dollies; “Mexican dinner” with the PCV’s in Sikasso; the little bead bracelets; the wedding women on the baché in Bamako; and too many others to mention.

It was wonderful to see how Anna has adapted to her new home. We were amazed at: the way she was able to communicate in both French and Bambara; how she negotiated prices for us, even walking away when she thought the price was too high; how she pumped her water and carried it home on her head; watching her play with the children and handle the babies; and watching her greet everyone with respect. We are so proud of her and the work she is doing in Mali. I am so glad to have seen her village and been able to meet her friends. It’s so nice to know where she is, to have a picture to put with her words. I feel very comfortable about her safety and the people she’s around.

It was an interesting trip. I was so very glad we got to go, and I was so glad to come home. We love you Awa,

Aminatta

“It's complicated.”

That's what our Dogon Country guide, Oumar, said a number of times during our three days with him. Usually when he was trying to describe part of the Dogon culture that was too complicated both for us to understand and for him to translate. Once when he was trying to describe a romantic relationship. I find the phrase helpful when trying to describe our trip to Mali. Of course, it doesn't help you understand Mali, but it's the best I can do.

On one hand, Mali is beautiful. The northern part is the Sahara Desert. Looking out from the plane on our ride in, I saw waves upon waves of brown sand – not a body of water or green patch in sight. We visited the edge of the Sahara near Tombouctou: light brown sand, small trees, scrub brush. Dogon Country, further south, was unbelievable. Huge red rocks interspersed among green fields and huge baobab trees. Clear streams and waterfalls. Then, in the southern part of the country, around Anna's village of Kourouma, green. Green fields, green fruit trees, green hills. A contrast to the red dirt of the roads, the concessions, the ground peeping out in between rows of crops.

On the other hand, Mali is dirty and ugly. I saw zero trash cans. Trash littered the ground, especially in the cities, even mere feet from the amazing Djenne Mosque. Sewage ran (or pooled) in open ditches and across alleys. The Sikasso market was a mud pit even on a dry day. People live and work in this environment, and they are dirty. Children run and play in the dirty streets without shoes.

On one hand, the Mali people are not well off. This is one of the poorest nations in Africa, in the world. From a young age, children work hard: taking care of younger siblings and helping in the fields. School kids memorize their lessons in French (although they don't truly understand the language), in classrooms of 100 students, with teachers who may not care about them at all. Of those who are able to stay in school until the ninth grade, only a few will pass the test that allows them to go on to attend high school in the nearest city – if they can afford to live away from home. Women and girls marry young and are not well informed of contraception methods. In addition to raising children, they do all the work around the house and work in the fields. (The men work in the fields when the season is busy. Otherwise, they do very little manual labor.) Malians are susceptible to many dangers and diseases, from children who run around within feet of open wells to adults who must sleep without mosquito nets.

On the other hand, Malians are lucky. They live simple lives without all the extra stuff that distracts us Americans and gets in the way of our enjoyment of life. They get up, go to work, and go to bed, and that's okay. They are very close and connected to their families. “Vacation” often means visiting family in some nearby town or city. They laugh and work and laugh and greet one another and laugh and talk and laugh. They are happy. There is something very attractive about such a life.

Finally, on one hand, Mali is a very difficult place to visit, coming from our privileged American lifestyle. No running water (except in the cities), little drinkable water, no refrigeration, definitely no air conditioning, few “normal” toilets, and no toilet paper. It is hot; it is dusty. At the end of the day, all I wanted was to sit in a cool spot, drink a cold beverage, and eat a cool meal. Yes, the shade was cool, and we occasionally got a cool drink, but the food was always steaming. Huge pots of rice and couscous and macaroni, covered with sauce and meat that had been cooking for hours.

On the other hand, Mali is an easy and delightful place to visit. The people are incredibly nice and welcoming, and they will go out of their way to greet you. Anna's neighbors and people of Kourouma provided us with more food than we could eat. The children are intrigued by the white folks and either react with tears or laughter when we look at them or speak to them. The brave ones walk right to grab hold of a white hand. Despite the difficulties of travel, I look back fondly on our time in Mali and the people we met there. As happy as I was to get back to the comforts of home, I was slightly sad that I couldn't spend more time truly getting to know such an amazing people of such a different world. I am thankful for the opportunity to get a small glance into the different, difficult, happy, complicated lives of those in Mali.

Bintou (Emma)

At the end of July, I departed for Ghana with two fellow PCV’s, Katie and Becky. We knew it would be a loooong trip overland, and it certainly turned out to be. We left Bamako on a Tuesday morning. The first leg of the trip through Mali was fine. Once we got to the border of Burkina Faso however, the troubles began! We had to get off the bus at a couple of different spots along the border. At the first stop we got our Visa’s and checked luggage was examined. At the next stop, several guards got on the bus to look through our carry-on’s. There were a couple of guys who had with them huge plastic bags filled with tons of packets of Vivalait powdered milk. The guards took the milk off the bus, and as all of us enthralled passengers watched, they announced that the content of the Vivalait packets was actually cocaine! So…for some nonsensical reason, we had to backtrack about 45 minutes to a prior checkpoint, where the cocaine dealers were taken into a room and questioned for about an hour. Then we learned that our bus would have to stay put for further examination, so we had to sit in the dark and wait two more hours for a second bus to come pick us up. We got to Bobo-Dioulasso at midnight, and found out that we’d missed our connecting bus to Ouagadougou, the capital where we would later get buses for Ghana. Luckily Becky had been smart enough to bring her big mosquito net tent, so we set it up in the station waiting room and got some sleep. The next morning we were up early to get tickets for the first bus to Ouaga – but it was full! I planted myself next to the bus door and as it turned out, about four people who had previously reserved tickets didn’t show up – so we got on!

We got to Ouaga on Wednesday afternoon and got a bachée (small bus) to take us to the North of Ghana. Well, let me just say that going to Ghana served as an indicator of the reverse culture shock I’ll probably experience when I go back to the United States. Here were some of the reactions that we had while on the road entering Ghana: “Two-story houses!”, “White lines painted on the sides of the road!”, “Lawns!”, “GUARDRAILS!!!”. We had a short return to reality when we transferred to a larger bus and were packed like sardines for the 9 hour trip to Kumasi. After a smelly, uncomfortable and sleepless night on that bus, we finally made it to Kumasi on Thursday morning. We spent Thursday wandering around Kumasi, an interesting market city with just about everything imaginable being sold on the side of the road, including washing machines and diapers. Despite how busy the city is, it was remarkably clean, with no about-to-overflow sewage and dirt. We were amazed to get back to our hotel after a full day of walking around and not have to scrub our feet for ten minutes.

It was very interesting coming to a Christian country. We saw knees and even thighs! As Ghana is an English speaking country, we were able to notice that about 80% of the shops had Christian names, such as GIGA – God is Great Academy, King David Pharmaceuticals, How Great Thou Art art store, and my personal favorite: Except God phone store (and that’s really how it was spelled). We saw signs for breast enhancement and weight loss, along with posters for the lottery.

On Friday we spent most of the day again on transport – the driver played bad country music and we saw two young Ghanaian women pull out lunch that they’d packed into Tupperware containers – complete with spoons and napkins (in Mali if you’re going to pack a lunch it’s piled into a plastic bag and eaten with the right hand). We spent Friday night in a coastal town called Axim and on Saturday finally made it to the beach! The next few days were very relaxing, with lots of sun (of course I got burnt on the first day), waves and good food.

On Tuesday we packed up yet again and left for Cape Coast. Once we got there, we spent the afternoon looking at Cape Coast Castle, which served as an old slave fort. There were dungeons where hundreds of slaves were packed together, with no bathrooms and only tiny windows for ventilation. They would go through an examination and the cream of the crop would be picked for the slave ships. Then they would be moved through an underground tunnel leading to the dock. Slaves that were hostile would be moved to a jail cell where they were kept until they starved to death. There was an interesting plaque that had been inscribed since the abolition of the slave trade, stating basically that the past was past and no hard feelings were had; along with a prayer that nothing as abominable as the slave trade would ever occur again.

Wednesday morning was spent walking through Kakum National Park. We didn’t see any animals but it was fascinating to learn about all the uses of the trees – from usage to make sponges and eye drops to serving as a cure for diarrhea and impotence!

On Thursday we left for the capital of Ghana, Accra. The next few days were spent eating, walking around, eating, shopping, and eating. There is a Champs Sports Bar in Accra – and we had real nachos! We got together for drinks with some Ghanaian PCV’s. It was interesting to hear about Peace Corps life in another country. I think they were a bit annoyed with a stereotype that Ghanaian volunteers have it “easy”. Like my friends and I, most people coming into Ghana spend all of their time in the more touristy areas which are of course going to be more developed. So even though we found luxuries in Ghana that we can't find in Mali, Ghana still has a long way to go in terms of education, health care and sanitation.

By Sunday it was time to go home. Unfortunately we still had over two days of bus travel ahead of us. We ended up breaking out the mosquito net tent again Sunday and Monday nights and finally made it to Sikasso on Tuesday. It was a nice vacation and Ghana is truly amazing, but it’s honestly good to be back in Mali!

This is just a quick blog to say that my parents, Emma and I had some wonderful adventures traveling throughout Mali. I'm going to try and have them write their own blogs to add to this site, so you can read some of their own thoughts on the trip! I'm off to Ghana tomorrow for a vacation from my vacation!

A few weeks ago I got to experience the bus ride from hell. I was coming back to Sikasso after getting a Ghana Visa in Bamako. I got to the bus station at 2:30 pm and was told we’d be leaving at 3:30. So I bought my ticket and waited. By 4 we hadn’t left and when I asked I was told to sit for a little bit longer and soon we’d leave. At 5, people with large luggage were called to stand by the bus; however the luggage wasn’t loaded until after 7. We finally pulled away after 9 pm! Of course I was already livid considering I’d been flat out lied to, but the troubles had just begun. At midnight, about halfway between Bamako and Sikasso, the bus broke down. Some guy kept going and coming with the battery, apparently trying to fix it, but it never worked. By 8 am, after a restless night of attempting sleep and sitting next to a guy named Jubilee who kept humming what sounded like the dreary song the band played in Titanic while the ship was sinking, the bus still wasn’t fixed. I was able to hitch a ride with a French guy who’s lived in Mali for twenty years, and eventually got to Sikasso by 11 am.

Other than that horrible experience, things in Mali have been just fine the last month. I’ve been busy the last week and a half painting a big World Map on one of the walls at the school. Two other volunteers came to help a bit, and I let the school kids’ paint in the countries and oceans. It’s been a fun project and everyone’s been really enthusiastic about it.

I had a final AIDS presentation with the 9th graders a few weeks ago, and decided to do condom demonstrations, using a banana. It turned out great, even after the banana busted halfway through the demonstrations! The kids were really into it and two girls even voluntarily came up to do the demonstrations themselves. If I’d have had enough condoms, I think half the boys would’ve volunteered. Since then I’ve had a few kids stop by to pick up pamphlets that I have available with more info on HIV/AIDS. It was really encouraging to see some kids so excited about learning more about the disease.

This past week Solika and I have been going to other villages in the commune for vaccinations/baby weighings, and I’ve been doing porridge demonstrations in them as well. Overall, they’ve gone well although I think the mothers end up drinking more of the porridge than their babies, which kind’ve defeats the purpose. As for other health stuff, I saw my first live birth on Thursday! The baby weighings had finished for the day in Kourouma, just as a pregnant woman showed up to the maternity. The entire process, from her entering the maternity to weighing the baby after it was born, took less than 30 minutes! The mother came in and she was in a lot of pain, so my homologue gave her a shot to speed the contractions. I left and when I came back shortly afterwards, the mother had begun pushing and the baby pretty much just slid out! It was interesting comparing this Malian birth to American births. Not that I’ve ever seen a live birth in the States, but I know it’s an extremely sacred and emotional event. Here in Mali, the new father stood outside the maternity the whole time. After the birth the baby was carried into a rest/recuperation room. The father didn’t even ask to see the baby, or ask whether it was a boy or girl. Not that he doesn’t care or isn’t a good dad – it’s just different. Giving birth is a normal, everyday thing. Most new mothers themselves rest for no more than twelve hours and then they’re back at home, probably washing clothes and cooking.

My mom is really creative and has been making special UNC dolls to give to little kids in Kourouma. I gave the most recent doll to my friend Maminatta’s daughter, Sanata. Sanata is only 9 months old, but I thought she’d still be able to play with the doll, and has on older sister with whom she can share it. Anyway, when I first gave the doll to Sanata, she was confused and didn’t really know what it was. So Maminatta whipped out her breast and put the doll to it, to show Sanata that the doll is like a little baby!

Well that's it from here. The next time I post will be after the Griffis family is together in Mali. If you haven't been able to tell, I'm so excited about seeing my family I pretty much freak out every day! Send me comments, send me emails and I hope you all are well!

Anna

Hot season is here – yet with it come mangoes! They haven’t even turned ripe yet in Kourouma, but have in nearby villages so they’re easily accessible. I eat at least one or two a day (or five) so I’m definitely not worried about my levels of Vitamin A. I’ve also been hauling my mosquito net outside every night for the last month or so, which is nice because I can fall asleep looking at the stars, and get the occasional breeze.

At the beginning of April all the PCV’s from my stage and our homologues went to Tubaniso for a week of training. It was good to see everyone, and four of us went back to Banankoro one day to see our host families. I got to see all of my favorite kids, two of whom had gotten a lot bigger just in the six months I’d been away. And one of my host moms had a baby shortly after I left, so it was exciting to see her. After training, a lot of PCV’s hung around Bamako for a few days which was fun. The night I got back to site, Solika and Kalilu stopped by to greet and told me flat-out that I’d gained weight, which of course I just loved to hear.

As for work, I’ve started doing porridge demonstrations. The first one was in Kourouma, and I invited nine women with malnourished babies to come. One woman didn’t show up, and I had to get on my bike and track down three other women , but two extra ladies came so we ended up with ten. The porridge turned out delicious, and I did a food group animation with the help of a lady who helps with baby weighings, Fatoumata. She’s super smart and translated what I said into Senoufo and elaborated on it. Hopefully I can keep in touch with the babies who came to the demonstration, especially one little girl, Oumou, who’s as sweet as can be, but one of the most severely malnourished kids I’ve seen, because her mom is in school in Sikasso, leaving Oumou without sufficient breast milk. This is the cause for most of the severe cases I’ve seen: either the mother is away in another town, or died, leaving the child without breast milk. And animal milk and formula are risky substitutions because animal milk always has to be boiled and water for formula may be unclean. Anyway, I also did porridge demonstrations in two other villages in my commune, with about 30 women each. The plan is to do this in 7 other villages in the commune.

I’ve also been doing HIV/AIDS animations at the school, which have gone really well overall. The first week we focused on facts and myths about the virus, such as that it’s not found anywhere in Mali. The next week we studied what can and cannot transmit HIV, and last week learned about symptoms and prevention. Exams have been going on and school ends mid-June, so I don’t know if I’ll get to go back this year, but I’m excited about coming up with new lesson plans and activities for next school year.

Of course I can’t write a new blog entry without bringing up the fetishes! First off, right before April training, the “ciwaara” fetish came out, which was basically four men dancing in the middle of a circle wearing what looked to me like huge bushes. They let me take pics as long as I gave a little money to the old men so that they could buy kola nuts.

And then recently the “kori” fetish has been out. They came out about once a week for a month. It was a ton (probably over a hundred) boys and grown men who would walk in a pack without shirts on and chant (the chant reminded me of that of the flying monkeys in Wizard of Oz). They were always brandishing sticks, some lit with fire, and supposedly they would beat any passerby’s whom they came across. So when it was a day for them to come out, everyone would warn me not to leave my concession, or I’d be beaten!

This has been my life in Mali for the last month! I’m counting down the days for when my family comes (July 7th)!!! Miss you all and hope to hear from you.

Since my last blog I’ve been unusually busy at site which is great! In the last month we’ve been to eight other villages to do baby weighings along with the weekly Kourouma weighings. I also did more animations at the school on diarrhea and malaria, and then we spent one week playing a review game on all the material. When I say animations, they are just small talks. So for with women at baby weighings, I just tell them how to feed their kids up to two years of age. Then I ask questions at the end to make sure they understand. Same with the kids at school. We go over the topic and then play some sort of review game at the end of each session. I try to have pictures or actual activities when possible because it’s a treat for the students. In most Malian schools, everything is rote memorization. Seventy-plus kids are jam-packed into a room with three students per desk. The teacher writes in small cursive on the board and the kids copy it down and then go home to memorize. There are no pictures or maps in the room. (World maps would be a nice thing for people to send me because I could give them to the school – although they would need to be in French for the students to understand.) I do all of my animations in Bambara even though usually at the school the kids learn in French. I was surprised to learn that kids as old as ten and eleven can’t even read Bambara because they’ve been learning in French from day one. Anyway, for the session on diarrhea we did an activity at the end where I got five volunteers to come up and put hot pepper on their hands. Next they had to wash their hands with just water, which doesn’t remove the hot pepper. Then they washed with soap and water, which did remove the smell. The idea was to show that washing with just water does not remove diarrhea-causing bacteria. Most people in my village don’t wash their hands with soap, ever. I like doing the animations but I know that people have a hard time understanding me sometimes. There have been random times when I talk to kids and they don’t understand the word “or”. I asked one of my friends for example, “Do you play football everyday or once a week?” She said, “Yes”. I repeated the question, emphasizing “or” and she again responded “yes”! This happens all the time!

Last week there was a meningitis vaccination campaign in Kourouma. It was a major event, vaccinating babies, school-aged children, women and men. The medicine was coming from Sikasso, yet it hadn’t arrived by 10 am. I went home to wait and around 10:15 I heard the sound of a car and looked over my concession wall to see a herd of women and children running into the CSCOM to secure a place in line. I went with some of the staff members to the school to vaccinate the students. I didn’t really do much, just opened syringes and had them ready for the nurse to grab, and ran to get materials if we ran out. It was pretty hectic overall and they didn’t even finish giving all of the vaccinations until the next day.

There’s been quite a bit of animist activity lately which is fun. In early February the “waara” fetish came out for three days. This specific fetish comes out every year and is one that women can see. I went with my homologue’s kids one afternoon to listen to music and watch a group of men dancing in a circle. Some were wearing white skirts only. Periodically, men would run out of the circle to scare the crowd and yell random things. I saw one guy who fell to the ground and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. All of a sudden, he jumped up with a yell and ran to join the dance circle. I also saw a non-Muslim teacher who was clearly inebriated and explained to me for about seven full minutes about how women can see the waara fetish but if they see other fetishes they’ll die. I’ve learned by the way, that the fetishes are simply the men who play the music and dance. Fetishes are not necessarily objects, which I had previously thought. Last week the “komo” fetish came out, also for three days. This was one that women cannot see. On Monday they were apparently going to be out for the entire day, near the area where I get phone service. About ten people warned me not to make any phone calls for the entire day! Each night that they were out, I heard them playing music and yelling. Apparently they walked right past my house at one point in the middle of the night but I was sound asleep. My homologue had to deliver a baby at the maternity that night. She heard the sound of the fetish music, so she sprinted from her house to the CSCOM, delivered the baby, and then waited (probably terrified) until they passed, before returning home.

Weather has been crazy lately. The Mali guidebook describes the area as a “dustbowl” this time of year, which is very true as there are dust storms at least every morning. It’s also hot season, so I spend most of the time covered in an unpleasant combination of sweat and dust. However, I am once again grateful for being in the South of Mali because this past weekend it rained! Friday, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear rain on the tin roof. I was shocked because I heard that rain wouldn’t come until April or May (up North it doesn’t start until June). I went out and stood in it for a few minutes, and thought it would be over soon, but it ended up pouring until 9 am! It was great while it lasted, but then the humidity kicked in and I spent the rest of the day drenched in sweat.

As I mentioned in the title, it’s the season for marriage! My homologue’s cousin got married in Kourouma one morning so I went to the concession to greet in the afternoon. For a lot of Muslim weddings, the couple will go to the Mayor’s office in the morning to actually perform the ceremony. The next three days are spent greeting and celebrating. Often, the wife spends seven days following the ceremony inside her house in isolation. So when I went to greet that afternoon, she had already begun the period of isolation and was not there. There were still tons of people throughout the concession. A lot of women were cooking and men were sitting around drinking tea and listening to music. They fed me a bit of delicious dege, a millet-based porridge with clumps of sour milk. I felt silly because I’d forgotten to brush up on wedding blessings before I went, so I wandered around greeting people but didn’t really know what to say in relation to the marriage. This past Friday though, my friend Solika invited me to go to his home village, 7 km away, to greet his family because his older brother had gotten married the previous day. I did remember the blessings this time. My favorite is, “Allah ka furudenw soro” – May the marriage find you children! We sat around and drank tea, played cards, and ate dege again. This time, the wife was not kept in full isolation, but came outside a couple of times, although keeping her entire head covered the whole time. Men and women were also allowed to go inside the house where she was in order to greet her, and then she was able to uncover her face.

The other matrone, Djeneba’s, father died a few weeks ago, so I went to greet in her family’s concession as well. It seemed basically the same as the weddings, with people going to give money and offer funeral blessings, and then either sit around and chat or cook.

On Palm Sunday I went to the church in Foh with my friend Moniqui. I couldn’t understand much of the service, but it was fun because at the beginning everyone stood in a group outside and got palm branches, with which we then processed inside. Afterwards, we visited with Moniqui’s family and they gave me pork to eat! It was quite tasty, although there were bits of bone interspersed throughout, forcing me to chew carefully! I like going there though, because people call me by my American or Christian name, Anna. I spent Easter Sunday here in Sikasso. I went with two other volunteers to the Protestant church. It wasn’t very exciting because we didn’t have hymnals and couldn’t sing along, and the service lasted for three hours! Hope you all had a lovely Easter Sunday!

I just learned the fabulous news this morning that the Tar Heel men advanced to the Sweet 16 - yay!!! (And I learned as well that Dook is OUT - yay!!!) Anyway, good luck Tar Heel men and women!

It’s so hard to believe that the end of February is right around the corner. The first couple of weeks back at site after IST were probably the hardest for me, but things have gotten better. I had this idea in my head that after IST I would magically have all this work to do – not true! I’ve continued basically the same routine I had before IST. What made it worse is that the CSCOM ran out of vaccinations and hasn’t been able to get any in a month, so while I’ve continued to do weekly baby weighings in Kourouma, we haven’t gone out to any other villages. I have continued to go out and greet in the mornings which is really fun, and am making more friends as my Bambara improves. There’s a really sweet old man who is missing an eye who I like to visit. He’s super sharp and is excited to meet my family when they come in July. There’s also a group of young guys who hang out at the butiki (small general store) across from my Homologue’s concession. Sometimes I go drink tea with them when I get sick of listening to only Senoufo conversations at my Homologue’s house. There’s also a lady, Maminatta, who walks around and sells beans every day with her adorable baby daughter, Sanata, strapped onto her back. She stops by and chats every now and then which I always appreciate (I mostly hang out with guys and am grateful for any female friends that I make!). My next door neighbors continue to be the nicest people I’ve met in Kourouma – I go over to their house about once a week at night to watch a really horrible Brazilian soap opera, dubbed over in French. I hang out a lot with the new vaccinator, Solika, and a med student, Kalilu, because they’re really laid back and easy to talk to. They also play on a football (soccer) team which has had two games in the past couple of weeks which are fun to watch. The guys on the team wear matching blue shirts, and they usually wear tall socks and the ever-so popular jelly sandal. The Africa World Cup was a few weeks ago. The doctor’s family is the only family in village with a colored TV, so at 5 o’clock on game days, I would see crowds of mostly men and boys running over to watch it. I watched the final game at my neighbors’ house, where Egypt beat Cameroon for the second title in a row. Despite having the Africa World Cup and local matches to watch, they don’t even come close to taking the place of Carolina basketball! Go Heels!

As far as work, I did my first animation (a short talk) on weaning with women who came to a baby weighing. I plan on doing an animation at every baby weighing. This past week, I also started teaching basic health stuff at the school, 3 days a week. I’ll continue to do this and teach two 7th grade classes, one 8th and one 9th. This first topic was on Nutrition and I was very pleased with how all the classes turned out. We did an activity at the end of each class where I drew pictures of different foods to give out to volunteers and they had to come up and tape them on the board under their respective food group. I gave stickers (thanks Aunt Anne!) to those who participated. For each class it was always really hard to find a first volunteer but after everyone saw me give the sticker they were jumping out of their seats to get called on – nothing like a little incentive every now and then! There are more than seventy students in each class, so I’m a little unsure about how I’ll keep coming up with fun, hands-on activities to do, but it’s good to have steady work in place for three afternoons a week, even if each class is only about 25 minutes long!

So let’s see, other news…I went to a church last Sunday in Foh, a village 18 km away. The church was tiny with long cement benches. There was one little wooden cross that hung in the front. Unfortunately there weren’t hymnals like there had been in the Sikasso church, so I couldn’t really participate in singing. I hope to go more often though and eventually learn the songs. There’s a lady from Kourouma whose family lives in Foh, so we visited with them before and after the service. There were pigs in the concession, which I certainly hadn’t seen any of in Kourouma. There was also a guy who was apparently already far into his palm wine, even at 8 am. It was interesting nonetheless to visit a non-Muslim concession!

My trip to the Segou music festival at the beginning of the month was really fun. There were a lot of other PCV’s there, along with tons and tons of non-PCV Toubabs. There were three nights of music, but the music never started until night, so we would spend the days eating good food (I had enough cold milk to last a lifetime) and looking at artisan goods. Two friends and I went to this one place where beautiful mud cloths are made, and we got to make our own mud cloth sample for free. Each night, the music was supposed to start at 8 pm, but of course that meant it didn’t actually start until 9:30. My favorite performer was this guy named Bassékou Kouyaté because his music was very bluegrassy sounding. My new favorite instrument is the Cora, a gourd with long strings attached. It kind’ve sounds like a mix between the banjo and harp. I also enjoyed a performer named Habib Koité (who fell off the stage at one point into the Niger, but kept playing the whole time anyway). The main performer for the entire festival was Salif Keita, a very popular albino Malian musician. He was the fifth performer on his night, and didn’t come on until after 2 am. Everyone went absolutely crazy though, when he walked onto the stage. I recognized a few of his songs from the radio, but was unfamiliar with most of the other musicians’ songs. Anyway, that's pretty much all of my new Malian news! I hope all of you are very well, and please continue to write with any news!

Anna

It’s been a busy last few weeks, all of which I’ve been away from site. Starting the seventh of January, I was back at Tubaniso for two weeks of technical training. It was great to see other volunteers, many of whom I hadn’t seen in three months. The ride to Bamako was interesting. Ideally, going from Sikasso to Bamako takes about six hours. This ride took twelve. The bus broke down about half-way through the ride and we had to sit for hours on the side of the road until a new bus came along to pick us all up. The most exciting part of the night came when we hit the donkey. I was sitting in the very front of the bus and had been dozing for most of the ride, but just happened to wake up for the 30 seconds when it happened. There were three donkeys lined up on the road, with not enough space in between any of them for the bus to go through. Instead of trying to swerve or slow down, the driver just plowed through one of them. There was a big bang, but the bus didn’t even slow down after we hit it, so the only harm done was to the donkey!

Tubaniso was full of eating good food, watching lots of Grey’s Anatomy, and going to technical trainings, some of which were helpful, others not so much. Overall, I’m excited to go back to site and hopefully get started working on some projects. One Sunday during training, we had a Hash Run, consisting of most of the PCV’s in my stage, along with ex-Pats from all over, including South Africa, France and the US. Four “rabbits” started running about 15 minutes before the rest of us, and our goal was to follow paper trails that they left behind and try to catch them. The race was only 3.1 miles though, so of course no one caught them. The trail took us through some crazy thorns and bushes and by the time I was finished there were cuts all over my legs! It was fun though, and afterwards we got barbecue and cole slaw!

After training, a group of us went to another volunteer’s site for a formation on making improved shea butter. A lot of women in my village sell shea nuts and make shea butter, so actually helping them to sell the butter is a project I am interested in working on. To get to her site, we had to cross the Niger in a boat not much bigger than a canoe. There were two guys who rowed us across, using long sticks instead of oars. It took a while, but the view was beautiful. We walked about 3 km to get to her site after crossing the river, and the path was lined by tons of shea and mango trees. The formation was very helpful. It lasted for two full days. The first day, we actually made improved shea butter and the second day built two solar dryers for the nuts. Each day, the women in the village gathered together and played drums and had dance parties. We were more involved with the dance parties than the actual work with shea but that’s okay. We taught them some American dances, including the electric slide, Macarena, and Old MacDonald. The last night we were there, a group of local hunters played music and danced for us. A couple of times they danced with their guns, and not always pointing them toward the sky. I just sat and hoped they weren’t loaded!

After the shea training, I went to my friend Becky from home-stay’s site, along with Amanda, another friend from Banankoro. Her site is about 30 km from the Guinea border, and the road to get there was horrendous! We were crammed in a tiny bachée for a 4-hour drive on a dirt road with a gazillion pot holes. I was almost thrown out of my seat about twenty times and at one point the driver slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a cow. It was really nice to see her site though, which is about half the size of Kourouma. We were only there for two nights, but got to tour her village and hang out with a lot of the people. Becky lives in a concession with her host family, which would be hard for lack of privacy but good for interaction and language. We washed clothes on Friday and were watched the entire time by her family! Everyone was super friendly though. The only transportation that leaves her site is at 5 am, so on Saturday morning we had to get up at 4:30 in time to catch it. It was already really cold, and then the bachée that we caught was missing one of the huge windows in the back, so for pretty much the entire ride, Amanda and I were huddled under a huge scarf that she had been smart enough to bring. We got back to Bamako from her site with no problems other than the cold, and the ride back to Sikasso took less than 6 hours and did not involve hitting any animals, making made up for the initial horrible ride. As always, hope you are all well!!! Miss you all!

The last two weeks in Kourouma have been fine, and I’ll just try and think of any interesting incidents to share. Saturday morning was fun. After greeting at the CSCOM, I walked around town some, going to compounds I haven’t been to in a long time. At one point, a woman asked me if my hair was hair of a scarf. Kids are either terrified or fascinated by my hair, but it had never even occurred to me that people might not even think it is hair! I wonder who else thinks that I walk around every day in a light brown colored scarf! I stopped several times and sat with people, including two teachers from a nearby village, one of whom lives in Kourouma and two university students. Overall, I felt confident with my Bambara. It’s so much easier for me to speak and understand if I’m with only one or two other people. I get frustrated almost every day at my homologue’s house because there are always a lot of people there and they’re either speaking in Senofu or there are so many of them speaking fast Bambara that I’m lost and just sit there. I know I’m quiet in English too but at least I know when to laugh if someone makes a joke!

A few weeks ago there was a major vaccination campaign in Mali. One morning I went to greet at the CSCOM early and there was a line of women and children stretching from the hanger in the middle of the large compound to the doors leading out. The Doctor gave me some work to do, helping to give out Vitamin A pills and polio drops. We were there from 7:45 until 2 in the afternoon, with a steady stream of patients. It was a zoo and I thought it would never end, although I loved actually having work to do. And luckily we didn’t run out of any of the vaccines and had enough mosquito nets to give to everyone who came through. It was good to see such a good turnout.

This past Friday morning I decided to go to the onion fields again, and brought my camera. I had a really good time greeting and helping women, and taking a bunch of pictures. I helped my homologue’s friend, Mamine water all of her plants. We left together and I thought that eventually we’d separate but she followed me all the way to my house and plopped down on a chair. We sat for a while and she asked me what I was gonna make for lunch. It was noon and I just said I wasn’t sure yet. Well, we sat there for a few more minutes and I started to wonder if she wanted me to cook for her. Turns out so because she basically told me to get up and cook! I had no idea what to do. I asked her if she liked eggs and she said yes, so we had scrambled eggs and then she helped me make fried sweet potatoes as well. I’m still a little unsure whether she just wanted me to make her lunch, was maybe curious about what I eat, or whether she just wanted to hang out!

This past weekend has been a happenin’ place in Kourouma. It was the Doctor’s birthday, so his wife threw him a dance party both on Saturday and Sunday nights! Saturday afternoon I went to greet at their compound, where a bunch of women had gotten together to cook. I sat for a while, but before I could leave, the Doctor’s wife made me take a big bowl of porridge and another bowl of spaghetti. I felt so bad because I hadn’t helped cook, so another woman told me that my help would be to dance that night! So, at the dance I ended up dancing to about six or seven songs (they’re about ten minutes long each!) and had a really good time. I didn’t get home until 1 am! Sunday night wasn’t as exciting because I think everyone was tired. The most interesting part of the evening came when one of the musicians really got into the song and threw off her top (no bra underneath) and started dancing and even did a cartwheel!

Be sure and read my other new post below this one. I hope you all had wonderful holiday's!

Happy New Year! I have a lot to write about since my last entry two weeks ago, so I’ll split my blogs into Holiday news and regular stories. Two major Holidays occurred in the past two weeks. One of course was Christmas. The other, Tabaski, or Seliba (the big Festival) in Bambara, was a huge deal in Kourouma. Tabaski commemorates the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. As the idea of sacrifice is the backbone of Tabaski, those who can afford to sacrifice a sheep, goat or cow. For me it was one of those days when I wake up and have no clue what’s going on, what to say, wear or how to act. I put on a new fancy outfit (consisting of long pagne and huge embroidered top) which immediately gave my neighbors a laugh. For a while I stood on my porch and watched as tons of men, all dressed to the nine’s in flowing colorful boubous, and some women made their way to the mosque. Then I walked to my homologue’s house where they were doing basic chores in every-day clothes! I felt a bit ridiculous and went home to change. As it turned out, most people dress up in the late afternoon to walk around and greet. After the 9:00 prayer is the time for the sacrificial slaughtering. I was sitting on my porch where I can look out the door to my compound as people pass by. My neighbor’s son, Solo came out with one of their sheep, along with a big metal sheet which he laid on the ground. Then I heard him go back into his compound and heard the sound of a knife being sharpened. Next a random guy showed up and he, Solo, and my neighbor led the sheep out of my eyesight (fortunately). A few minutes later they were skinning and cutting up the dead sheep on the metal sheet. That afternoon they gave me a hunk of the raw meat which I cooked the next day. The day after that they brought me a whole bowl full of sauce and cooked sheep parts (I’m still not sure what but I’m thinking some liver and intestines). It was actually really tasty other than the texture! Luckily I’ve never been a picky eater, although I think it’s funny that I used to want to be a vegetarian because I thought it was cruel to kill animals for any reason! Anyway, I went to my homologue’s house for lunch, where sheep, rice, and a variety of vegetables were served. I hung out there for a while and she had music playing on the radio but it wasn’t too exciting. That afternoon, several groups of kids came by my house to offer blessings and in return I gave them candy. It’s the Malian form of Halloween. Instead of ‘Trick or Treat’, it’s ‘May God give you a good year’ and things like that. I had told Adia, my adorable three-year old neighbor, that I would take her picture on Seliba. She came over all dressed up with a new hairstyle, bright gold shoes, big gold earrings and dark eyeliner. I got my camera and her mother came running over to see what Adia could hold for the picture. I didn’t have any flowers so at first she suggested the mini globe that my parents sent me for Christmas! Then I found the mini Christmas tree and she agreed that that would be better. I just love how Malians like a good prop, no matter how tacky! That night was quiet, although after dinner at my homologue’s house, her kids kept me entertained by throwing their sheep’s head into the fire and then trying to saw it in half. The next night was a Seliba dance, which was basically the same as the dance after Ramadan.

Noel was the other major holiday and it was certainly the most different Christmas I’ve ever had. For starters, it felt absolutely nothing like Christmas, which was probably a good thing because it didn’t give me a chance to be too sad about not being in the US with my family! I spent it in Sikasso with about seven other gals. On Christmas Eve we baked up a storm. Three of us went to the Protestant Church for an 8 o’clock service. Well, we got there at about 8:05 and an hour and a half later it still hadn’t started! (Not too surprising though. We had been told during training that things in Mali often don’t get started until about two hours after they’re supposed to) We were tired though so decided to go on home. Christmas morning I slept in ‘til 8 (crazy!). We had scrambled eggs and pancakes for brunch and then walked over to a boutique where we sat outside, drank boxed wine, and had girl talk. That night we planned on having curried vegetables and twice-baked potatoes (my personal Holiday favorite). Another volunteer and I baked the potatoes once, made the filling, and had them ready to pop back in the oven when the gas tank ran out! Unfortunately it was too late to get a new one so we all watched ‘Home Alone’ and ate once-baked potatoes!

Christmas Eve and Christmas day were also filled with a major rat hunt! The volunteer whose house we stayed at had a huge rat living in her oven. It was spotted several times but always got away (we even brought two male neighbors over to try and catch it and they had no luck). Finally on Christmas day, a PCV and one of her friends were able to chase the rat into a room and then catch him in a bucket. They tossed him over the railing where he fell to his death. The neighbors were entertained though, because for the two days before the rat was caught, every so often they’d hear us Toubab’s screaming bloody murder whenever it was spotted!

It’s been a while since my last post, so I’ll start with Thanksgiving. While it was hard not being with family, I didn’t spend it alone! All of the Sikasso volunteers got together to have a feast of turkey, pumpkin and apple pies, mashed potatoes, and roasted veggies. So it turned out to be a pretty typical Thanksgiving meal. The weekend after Thanksgiving, some of us went to nearby waterfalls outside of Sikasso. They were beautiful – there were three different sets of waterfalls, each with a nice swimming hole. We camped out next to one set and were able to hike up to the other two. It was so nice to go camping, swimming and hiking!

Christmas is my favorite time of year, so these last few weeks have been hard, as I knew they would be. However, I began listening to Christmas music the minute I got back to site after Thanksgiving, and have been listening to it pretty much non-stop ever since. To keep myself entertained after dinner one night, I came home and danced to the entire Nutcracker Suite by myself! And people sent me decorations so my house now contains a mini tree, wreath, angels and bows!

I continue to walk around town and greet on the mornings that I don’t do baby weighings. I fee like most people know me by now. I went to the onion fields on Friday for a little over an hour and helped women pull water and plant the onions, which take about three months to grow. It’s actually been cool enough several mornings that I have to wear my long-sleeved hoodie – I love it! As I mentioned in my last blog, since its cold season now, a lot of Malians complain all day about how cold it is. I always mention how hot I am, and say that it’s snowing in parts of America. Some people have seen snow on TV and some have no idea what it is. Cotton-pickin’ time is still here, so I can look outside my house occasionally and see big piles of what from a far looks like snow! So I guess I can say I am having a somewhat White Christmas!

This past week I only did one baby-weighing and so spent the rest of the week making Christmas cards, doing basic chores, and feeling completely useless. I’m still not quite used to the slow pace of life with no set schedule of things. And while my Bambara is improving, there are still a lot of frustrations. A lady told me the other day, “Kadia (the old volunteer) could speak and understand Bambara a lot. You can’t really”. I just have to remind people that she was here for two years and eventually I’ll be able to. On Wednesday, I went to market town; getting ready to go back to site, I was the one person on the whole bachee sitting directly under the blazing sun. And two people commented on how much I was sweating – Malians just love to tell things straight up!

Overall I really enjoy baby weighings. We went to a town last week where 140 babies came! Luckily there were women there to help, so all I did was record the info and offer advice. And I had about fifteen shots of the very sugary Malian tea so I was pretty hyper. I’m definitely getting my biking in (which is good since I’ve been a total slacker lately when it comes to running!). I went to a village 12 km away a few weeks ago, but on the way thought I’d missed a turn and ended up backtracking for about ten minutes. I had been right all along as it turned out, so I had to turn back around and eventually found the town. It’s nice to get to know people from surrounding areas, and I love babies! They are (most) so cute.

World AIDS day was December 1st, and one of the Sikasso volunteers put together an Awareness Day on the 2nd. Several volunteers came to help. There was a basketball tournament, free AIDS testing, and a couple of info booths. Another gal and I sat at one booth and had people play a little game on ways of HIV transmission. At first we gave away condoms for the participants, but then about fifty kids showed up wanting to play, even though they didn’t know what they were doing (they just wanted the free condoms to blow up as balloons). So we stopped giving out prizes, but there were still a decent number of people who came by and seemed genuinely interested. In Mali, the AIDS rate is very low compared to the rest of Africa; below two percent. However, it is still a problem and from what I’ve seen in my village, a lot of people either do not really understand it, or do not want to talk about it.

Last Tuesday night was exciting. I heard drums and so at dinner asked my Homologue what was going on. She said it was the funeral ceremony for an elderly Animist woman. I wanted to go watch, so her son and two girls who live at her house went with me (one of the girls is about sixteen years old and insisted on holding my hand the entire time, since at twenty-two years old, clearly I am incapable of walking by myself and not getting lost!). Basically there was a big group of people in a circle, with men dancing in the middle. There were about four younger guys wearing white skirts and no shirts, a couple of guys holding burning sticks, and a main guy with a big mask, who served as the fetish. The circle moved its way across a section of town. The men with the fire would charge towards the outskirts of the circle every so often, causing the spectators to scream and disperse (oddly enough the men with fire had the exact same effect with the villagers as I do with many children when I’m simply walking!). Eventually they reached the end of the line and everyone went home. It was pretty neat though and I definitely look forward to seeing and learning more about different ceremonies. Tabaski is this Thursday so everyone in my site will be very dressed up and have feasts (most people will kill a sheep for the occasion). I attended a Protestant Church here in Sikasso yesterday which was fun, although I couldn’t understand most of it. There was a lot of singing; some of the songs came from hymnals so I was allowed to participate. Even those to which I couldn’t sing along were still fun to listen to though. It was a worship service pretty much exactly the same as those in the US, only in Bambara not English, with a different style of music.

Everyone have a wonderful Holiday season!

Happy Thanksgiving! I am in Sikasso to celebrate with other volunteers, although it sure is weird not to have a family Thanksgiving. Things in Kourouma continue to go well, although as always there are ups and downs. The biggest plus for the past few weeks is that I started baby weighings! I’ve done two weighings in Kourouma, which take place on Thursdays. This past Friday and Saturday along with the week before, I biked to other villages to do weighings, which coincide with vaccinations. The farthest village I’ve biked to was only 7 km away, although the road was horrible with big rocks all over the place. During rainy season, I may not be able to bike there at all. I enjoy baby weighings and the vaccinators, Bakary and Solika, are super nice. The women in the other villages are often very impatient, which is a bit frustrating and surprising considering how slow Malian culture generally is. I put the babies in a little pair of shorts which then hang from a scale. Afterwards, I give the mother a bit of advice if her baby is underweight. I’ve been peed on at least once every day, and sometimes the baby is kicking so much it takes three of us to get them into the shorts! This past Saturday I got peed on twice and literally came within an inch of being thrown up on. Needless to say, I’m always worn out after a morning of weighings!

While I don’t really feel like I have any good friends at site yet, I almost always have kids hanging out at my house and sometimes grown-ups come by. The Mayor comes by on Sunday mornings to chat. He is so sweet! He’s probably about 70 years old, but is missing his two front teeth. So when he smiles, it’s like a mixture of an old man and a first-grader! A few weeks ago, I was asking about his family. He didn’t know how many kids he had so we just settle on ‘a lot’. I was biking back to Kourouma last week and he passed me on his moto, wearing a heavy winter coat, even though it was 3 o’clock in the afternoon and probably 90 degrees. It’s “cold” season right now, so Malians tend to bundle up. I meanwhile spend all day sweating like a pig.

I continue to be thankful each and every day for having been placed in the Sikasso region. When I go to Sikasso I can buy big avocados for the equivalent of 40 cents each (Mommy, I have made some delish avocado sandwiches). I can get onions and tomatoes at site, and bread, eggs and other veggies at market on Wednesdays. Dinner at my homologue’s house is always good. Lately we’ve been having manioc, which is kind’ve like potatoes, with an onion and tomato sauce. Two nights ago we had grits! A few weeks ago was the peak of the corn season so I went to my homologue’s house one day where a group of 40 women or so had gathered for a corn-shucking party. Cotton picking was last week – the problem is that a lot of people are needed, so school was closed last Thursday and Friday afternoon so that the kids could help out in the fields. Education is ranked second below agriculture. Right now is onion-growing season, so women are out in the fields from dawn to dusk, planting and watering their onions. I went to the fields yesterday morning to help plant for a handful of minutes – it’s not a hard job, but very tedious and I can imagine having major back pains after working in the fields year after year. A few weeks ago was also the arrival of peanuts. My kitchen was almost overflowing with them, and I felt like I was snacking on peanuts all day!

I’ve had some interesting gender role conversations with several men in the village, one of whom is one of the vaccinators, is very well educated and has lived in a big city. All of them seemed to very seriously think that men literally are unable to cook, get water, or wash clothes. They thought it was hilarious when I said that I think men are perfectly capable of doing those things. I was talking to my homologue’s kids and mentioned that there were places in Africa where a woman can have more than one husband – they were astounded!

Oh, I had an interesting mouse experience last week. I was making breakfast when a little mouse scurried across the floor. I had heard them and have swept up tons of droppings but it was the first time I’d actually seen one in my house. Anyway, my trunk was open and it ran inside! So I had to take all of the food out until I realized the mouse had gotten stuck under a bowl. I lifted the bowl and the mouse climbed out of the trunk and ran over my foot and across the floor, out of sight. I bought some mouse poison at market so soon I intend on beginning a full-scale battle!

Hope everyone's well. Send me letters, I want letters! Miss you all!

I have had this conversation with people more times that I can count. Almost any time I ask someone what’s wrong with them, they nonchalantly say that it’s malaria. Who knows whether it actually is or not. Other than that, things are going well in Kourouma. I still haven’t been able to start baby weighing unfortunately due to various reasons, but this coming Thursday for sure, they will begin! Since I haven’t been doing baby weighing, I either watch vaccinations or pre-natal consultations once a week. Watching pre-natal consultations is interesting – since there’s no computer system, all info is written in little notebooks. There are two rooms. One is to weigh the women (on a small bathroom scale), measure their height, and record basic info. The other room contains an old medical bed where women are briefly checked for eye and tongue discoloration, lumps in the breasts, edema in the legs, and the size of the baby. There are no ultrasounds; the heartbeat is listened to with a little hollow metal tube, no stethoscopes. Ideally, women start coming in for PNC’s at 3 months and continue to come once a month, but some women don’t show up at all until they are already 7 months pregnant.

When I got back to Kourouma after my last visit to Sikasso, we had a balafone (xylophone) party to celebrate the end of Ramadan. Probably a couple hundred people showed up and formed a big circle, into which about 10 people would dance for each song. The songs were all really long, starting out slow where the people in the center would basically just be walking, and then ending super fast. I danced for a few songs, but I really hate that style of dancing where most people are on the outside watching!

I’ve gotten A TON of reading done. Since I’ve been back, I’ve read The Red Tent, The Nanny Diaries, and Barack Obama’s, Dreams from My Father. The Nanny Diaries was especially funny having been in Africa for over 3 months. The mom in the book has a looong list of rules for her son, including “he can’t pick anything off the ground”, and “no nakedness except while bathing”. Here, I watch kids literally pick up and chew on old balloons, used batteries, or dirt. And kids are naked half the time, and not just babies!

Last week, I ran pretty frequently. A boy who lives in my homologue’s concession said that he wanted to run with me. I said OK, but when I went to his house that evening, it turns out he hadn’t been serious. Well I convinced him to come on, so he ran inside to put on his jelly sandals and off we went, for about a mile and a half altogether. The next day, my homologue’s 10 year old son went with us, and on the way back, about six other kids joined us as well (some probably as young as 6 years old). I kind’ve felt like Forest Gump, with all the random kids joining in to run (although less than a mile total, not a 4 time trip across the US!). The next day I ran with my neighbor who’s 13, and several other kids have expressed interest. So maybe I actually can get a little Kourouma running club started!

In order to feel somewhat productive, I’ve started surveying people on health issues, which has had some interesting results. I’ve only surveyed people in five concessions so far, but it’s already apparent that variety in diet and malaria prevention are two big topics that will need to be addressed. These are all issues that I know the previous volunteer did A LOT of work with, which just makes it clear how things don’t necessarily stick with people after just two years. Also, almost no one had heard of AIDS, or at least said they haven’t, so that is another topic that I’d really like to work with, although I have a feeling that the issue of STD’s will be hard to get people interested in. We’ll see! Anyway, it has been helpful doing the brief surveys, because it lets me know which topics I’ll need to focus on once I start animations.

The other day was fun but tiring. I went with my homologue’s kids to the fields to help pick corn. Almost everyone in village goes to the fields every day (right now is the time for corn, peanut, and cotton pickin’), so I’ve wanted to go for a while. We picked corn for a couple of hours and then loaded it and ourselves onto the back of a donkey cart for the ride home (I even sat on a donkey for about 5 seconds!!!). Later in the day, I went to a concession to watch a group of women make shea oil. I’ve helped a lot shelling shea nuts, but that’s the easy part I realized. Next, the women pound and beat the shea nuts until a pasty texture forms (the strength of Malian women absolutely astounds me). Then they cook the shea paste over a fire until an oil-like texture is formed. They can then use the oil for cooking just about any food, along with rubbing on skin or in hair for cosmetic purposes.

I think rainy season is officially over, so I’m going to have some men in my village build a chicken coop in my concession, and then I’m gonna buy some chickens (so I can eat eggs each and every day)! I basically already have chickens and roosters though because those belonging to neighbors wander into my concession all the time (along with sheep and sometimes even a donkey or two). So if I’m at home, half the time I’m running around with a stick, chasing away animals. Not much other news, so I’ll end here, but miss you all and hope you’re well!

I know it’s been a while since I’ve last written, and so much has happened these last three weeks I have almost no idea where to begin. I guess I’ll start by saying that these last weeks have been the hardest by far for me. Someone told me before I came that the first six months at site would be hell, and at this point I can believe it. Everyday though has incredible ups and downs. Overall, I really like my site, most everyone is super friendly, and I’m improving my Bambara each and every day. There are three main frustrations. The main one is that I’m replacing someone. A lot of people seem to forget that she wasn’t fluent in Bambara when she got to site. Another part of Malian culture is that people compare you with other people right to your face, and they aren’t meaning to be rude. Every day I’m told how much everyone misses her and how good she was at Bambara. I just try not to take it personally, although I occasionally have to remind people that we’re two different people and that she lived here for two years. A major plus came last week when I was walking around town. A group of little kids saw me from a distance and started yelling “Awa” – MY Malian name, not the name of the previous volunteer. It lifted my spirits a ton. Language in general is another major but obvious frustration, although the other day a lady told me she thought I could speak Bambara, which made my day! In my village, Senofu is also the main language, so while most everyone understands and speaks Bambara, a lot of times they’ll have conversations in Senofu which I obviously can’t understand. I do know how to greet in Senofu though which everyone likes! The third frustration is that I have felt completely unproductive – but I get to start baby weighing in two weeks which I am super excited about.

So I thought I’d write about a typical day in the life of a Kourouma volunteer thus far. I get up around 6 or 6:30. I’ve gotten up and run a little bit which I really enjoy because I can watch the sun rise which is absolutely beautiful. After exercising, I take my bucket bath and then eat breakfast of fruit or eggs. I also have a little short wave radio so I can listen to BBC news in the morning (I’m so upset about the Marian Jones deal by the way). My language tutor comes around 8 and we talk for a while, although I feel like he doesn’t help that much so I’m probably going to tell him to come only twice a week from now on. Then, I go to the CSCOM to greet the doctor, nurses, my homologue who is a matron at the CSCOM and who I will go to with work issues, the pharmacist, and anyone else who is there. Then I have been picking out a part of town and just walking around, greeting people. While Kourouma isn’t too big (around 2500 people), it is very spread out and the compounds are huge with maybe 50 or more people in a compound. Unfortunately, people go to the fields very early and are there all day, but I always find some women and lots of children to greet. I greet for about an hour and a half and then go home and study until lunch. I’ve started making lunch for myself, and then I go to my homologues house to hang out for a few hours. There are always lots of people at her house, and a lot of times I help the women to shell shea nuts. Mid-afternoon, I go back home to read, sweep, wash clothes, do dishes, get water from the pump, etc. Then I usually read until someone’s gets me for dinner, which I eat at my homologues house as well. After dinner we listen to music, watch TV, or just hang out. Then I come home, read some more, and go to bed. I spend the entire day outside. I have a wonderful front porch and only go inside to sleep at night. This also means that kids often stop by my house which can be really annoying, but I don’t feel bad about telling them to leave if I want to be alone. So the pace of life is very slow and laid back and you can probably see why I’m itching to start actual work. Oh, on Wednesday’s I have been biking the 12 km to the main road and catching a bus to a neighbouring market town, where other volunteers in the area also go. They are all really nice and it is an opportunity to buy fresh produce that I can’t find in my village, along with cold drinks. Plus, it has been a wonderful opportunity to speak in English!

My village is mostly an Animist and Muslim community, which has produced some interesting stories thus far. Every once in a while, fetishes come out at night. I don’t really know what fetishes are, but if a woman sees one, she will die. Fetishes have come out 4 times since I’ve been at site, and so far, every night I’ve been scared to death. The night that fetishes come out, everyone tells me that I have to go home, close and lock all my windows and doors, and go to bed as soon as possible so I won’t see a fetish. One night, I woke up periodically and heard drums and men singing somewhere for the entire night. The next morning I got up to go running. The sun had come up some but not all the way. I saw two old women who basically made me turn around because if I had kept running the way I was going, I might see a fetish and die. So I turned around until the women were out of eyesight and then turned around again and kept going.

I also have an interesting story about the previous volunteers cat. His name was Motobo and I had told her during site visit that I didn’t want a cat. She found someone to take him, but he just kept coming back to my compound. I told my language tutor about the problem, so he brought one of his friends to come get Motobo. The friend turned out to be a fetish creator. He came to my compound with a burlap sac into which he stuffed the cat, and walked off. A few days later I asked my tutor if he’d seen Motobo and he started laughing because apparently the fetish creator had taken Motobo to kill and eat. So Motobo is no more, but I told the previous volunteer about it and she actually had wanted someone to take the cat to eat. So it all worked out in the end!

While there are a lot of annoying people who like to compare me to the previous volunteer all the time, I have also met some incredibly generous folks as well. I love my neighbours. There is a dad with one wife and four kids. The kids come hang out at my house a lot, including 3-year old Adia who is adorable. Since I’ve come to site, they’ve brought me an appetizer-type dish almost every night, from french fries to porridge. There is also a really nice lady who sells fried dough balls and sweet potatoes outside the doctor’s office every day. I always greet her and she often gives me free food as well. On Friday, which was Seli, the day after Ramadan when fast ended, the doctor and his family brought me an entire plateful of couscous with chicken and fried veggies. Needless to say I have definitely not been in lack of food.

I’m getting pretty good at carrying water on my head (using both arms of course). The first few days at site were incredibly rough. I went to get water one afternoon and ended up spilling a lot all over myself. Everyone was laughing at me and I laughed too but then got back to my house and just cried for 30 minutes straight. Since then though I fill the bucket a little bit less full and have been getting water later in the afternoon when not many people are out!

Oh, I also discovered the alcoholic part of town a few weeks ago. I was walking and greeting people when I ran into a guy who asked me if I knew what millet beer was. I didn’t know the word in Bambara so I said no. He told me he’d show me and led me to another compound where I saw a huge cauldron full of the beer. This was at 9:30 in the morning and I could tell they’d already started drinking. Anyway, it was pretty funny and now I know where to go if things get too rough in Kourouma (j/k)! In other random news, I have killed about a hundred spiders since I got to site and even killed a scorpion that was in my bedroom! It’s the only one I’ve seen since I got installed but it was still pretty exciting.

These last few days have been great in Sikasso. I have gotten to meet up with a lot of other volunteers and we spend time eating good cold food, going to a nearby pool, and hanging out at a bar at night. While I do like my site, I truly look forward to the times when I can see the other volunteers. Okay, goodness. I’ve rambled on enough. As always, hope everyone’s well, I miss you all. It’ll probably be a couple more weeks until I get to write again but still send me emails with lots of news that I’ll have waiting for me!

Homestay is officially over and we're all back in Tubaniso 'til next Sunday when we depart for site! Swear-in is Friday - I am getting increasingly nervous about being dropped off at my site, although very excited as well. This last week has been fairly eventful. Wednesday night we hosted a dance for Banankoro. On Thursday we got together with some women and children and demonstrated making oral re hydration salts, which is good practice for site. Thursday also, I went to the one restaurant in Banankoro to eat lunch with some other trainees. We had to wait two hours for our food because they had to go out of town to get the ingredients, but it was totally worth it. We had cous-cous with an onion and pepper sauce and chicken. It was delicious and I ate every single bit of meat on the bone (M&D it reminded me of Shonda A. eating at our house that one time!).

Ramadan started on Thursday, so many members of my family and all over Mali will be fasting from dawn to dusk for the next month. Fasting is different than say the 30-hour famine because no food or drink (not even water) are allowed. Gum chewing and even smoking are not allowed. My family kept asking me if I was going to fast and so on Friday I did! For the whole day! I woke up at 4:15 to eat rice, bread and coffee with my sisters and then went back to my room and drank a ton of water before going back to bed for a few hours. It was tough not being able to drink water, but I did it and I think my host family was really proud of me. As soon as fast was over I chugged a liter of water and got to eat not only macaroni for dinner, but porridge and coconut as well, a nice bonus. My family thought it was really funny that I was only fasting for one day but I told them that next year I'd do it for two! On Saturday the PCT's and our professors cooked our own dinner at the school and each invited a couple members of our family to come. I invited my two sisters who I always eat with. We made a wonderful feast (including ketchup bought from Bamako) although I kind of felt bad because my sisters saw me eat about 20 pieces of meat whereas at home I avoid it altogether or only eat one or two pieces. Oh well! Afterwards my sisters took me to a photographer on the main road and we got our picture taken in front of a corny scenic background. Yesterday morning I gave gifts of rice and fabric to my parents and a deck of cards to the kids (although I think they lost half the deck within 10 minutes). Most of the kids walked me to my professors' house to say goodbye. When they left, Salimata lagged behind and kept turning around to look at me. Even though she's driven me absolutely crazy the last two months, I'll definitely miss her along with a couple others. So that's it until I go back to Banankoro in January to visit. As always, miss you all and hope everyone's well!!!

Hi everyone! Hopefully you can see some of the pictures that I’ve put up – they take forever to download! So, I finished Harry Potter (of course). Luckily, another trainee had already read it so I immediately had someone with whom I could talk about it. However; if anyone wants to talk about it further with me, let me know.

The last week in Banankoro has gone very well. We’re at Tubaniso until tomorrow and then we’re only in our home stay sites for one more week! I’m not really going to be sad to leave, just because I’m so ready to live on my own and cook my own food – I will miss some members of my family and will most of all miss having other trainees right there. For health education practice, we got to hold a porridge-making session and baby weighing this past week, both of which turned out well. A lot of women and their babies came to each event, and we got to practice doing everything in Bambara. The most exciting news from my site was that two sisters (whom I hadn’t yet met but live on the same street as me) both had babies within a few days of each other. The baby naming ceremony for one was all day Wednesday, in my concession. Tuesday night, I was trying to sleep but there was a sheep outside that kept me up half the night. I was so confused because there isn’t usually a sheep that lives in my concession. Then I remembered that the baby naming ceremony was to be held the next day and sure enough, I woke up the next morning and the sheep’s skin was lying right outside my door. So, I got to eat some nice lamb for lunch on Wednesday. Then, yesterday morning, I went to greet my dad and he was eating something. I asked him what it was and he replied that it was sheep’s head, and then asked me if I wanted any. I said I was full. The baby naming ceremony was fun. I missed most of the dancing because I was in class, but still got to dance a little bit. I also wore one of my new Malian outfits which everyone loved. That’s it for now. As always, I hope you all are well!

I just wanted to write that I am the happiest trainee in the world right now because I am holding my own copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in my hand. I love you Emma, you're the best sister in the world! Thank you thank you thank you!

Aw ni wula!

I hope everyone's doing fantastic. I got to Sikasso, my regional capital, this morning after three full days spent in Kourouma which will be my home for the next two years starting at the end of September. On Monday I met my homologue, or counterpart whom I'll be working with in Kourouma. She is a very nice lady and works very hard at the CSCOM (medical center) doing pre-natal counseling. On Tuesday, we rode together on a bus from Bamako to Sikasso, which took about 6 hours. The bus ride wasn't bad, although it was incredibly sad because I sat next to the most malnourished child I've ever seen in person. He looked to be around 8 years old but was just skin and bones and could not use his legs at all. He seemed to be happy though and laughed at me when I made silly faces at him. We got off at Sikasso and caught a Sotroma which is a very ghetto bus to a town about seventy minutes north of Sikasso. From there, I met Elizabeth, the current Kourouma volunteer. Together we biked into Kourouma which takes about 40 minutes after getting off of the main road. While that sounds like a lot, really it's not bad at all and I figure I'll be able to come into Sikasso once every week or two.

It was actually dark when we biked into Kourouma, but over the next few days I was able to gather that it's a very beautiful village, with a road going through it and lots and lots of trees all around. There are about 2500 people living there, and it's fairly spread out so I'll probably be biking a lot. I love my future house. Sorry Kevin, but it's no dung hut. Quite the opposite actually. It used to be the mayor's house, and it is a concrete structure composed of two large rooms (living room and bedroom) and a small room for the kitchen. Elizabeth is leaving me all the major furniture as well along with most cooking supplies. There is also a nice covered porch. There is a front courtyard where Elizabeth has planted cucumbers, tomatoes and flowers. I have my own deep negen, although at night there are still roaches. All of this is enclosed, although the wall is short enough to look over and see the neighbors who are seem very nice.

So basically, the last few days have been spent going around the village and greeting people. I met the chief of the village, who is ancient, doesn't really speak Bambara, and seems to have no clue what's going on. Because it is rainy season, most people spend the day out in the fields, so I didn't get to meet a lot of people. It also rained during much of my visit, so a lot of the time we just hung out at home, reading or washing dishes and clothes. My favorite day was Thursday because I got to actually do some work. We went to the CSCOM, where there was someone doing vaccinations and Elizabeth did baby weighings, which I helped with. There were probably about 30 women who came in with their babies, and we would weigh them and record their weight. Most of the babies were underweight, in which case Elizabeth would talk to the mother and find out the diet of the baby. Babies are supposed to start eating porridge after 6 months of age, but many women only give breastmilk until about 1 year. Overall, the baby weighing was really fun and I'll probably do it in Kourouma every Thursday. Two or three other mornings every week I'll probably bike to nearby villages to do weighings in those places. My first three months at site though will be dedicated to Bambara rather than health work, because without knowing the language I won't be able to do anything. Another major highlight of the week: one morning Elizabeth made pancakes and someone had sent her real maple syrup. It was delicious! It was a good but awkward week, as I can really only greet and say simple things in Bambara. I just can't wait to swear in and move in and be completely immersed in everything! As always, I miss you all and hope you're well. Send me emails letting me know what's going on!

Anna

Aw ni sogoma! Try saying the title five times in a row. I’m back at Tubaniso until Tuesday, when we have…site visits! We’ll spend about five days at our future sites, meeting people, being forced to speak and learn more of our respective languages, and seeing a piece of what the next two years will be like. I’ll have plenty to write about then.

The last week in Banankoro hasn’t been too incredibly exciting. We had language tests and I did well and am at the place I need to be at in order to swear in as a volunteer next month, which is a huge comfort. Although, even though I feel like I do pretty well in class, I go home and can hardly understand what my family’s saying because they do not slow down for me at all! Let’s see, I’ve been to two Malian dances in the last week! Last Saturday night, most of the trainees in Banankoro met up (we all had a sibling that accompanied us) and walked down the main road to a dance that was happening. It was the strangest thing. There were about 100 people there, ranging from 10 year olds to 50 year olds. Everyone had formed a circle with a space in the center. There was a DJ, and every song that he played (some US rap included; Malians also love “Gasolina”) about five girls and five guys would go out to the middle of the circle, stand across from one another, dance by themselves and then periodically each pair would switch sides. It was also about the same 10 people that danced the entire time (except when they got all us female Toubabs to go out and dance for one song). The other dance was pretty much the same. Hopefully they won’t all be like that, because for me, the point of a dance is for everyone to dance. We shall see! I went to a baby naming ceremony for one of the trainee’s sisters new baby. In the morning, the men gather to slaughter a goat and drink tea and in the afternoon, women gather to give gifts of clothes and soap, and sing and dance a little bit.

In other news, I definitely ate some piece of organ last week, maybe liver, maybe heart. My family had been tricky and cut the meat into small bits and dispersed it throughout the pasta. I took a handful of pasta and there was organ in it, but my sister was looking at me so I couldn’t put it back and had to eat it. It wasn’t good, to say the least. And I ended up accidentally eating more later on in the meal. As far as good food news, we discovered yogurt at a gas station in a town nearby Banankoro. It was cold and delicious and after site visit I’m probably going to bike there every day. That’s about it from here. I’m going to go because there’s a line of people waiting to use internet, but I haven’t forgotten about Malian names and I’ll give them to those that wanted them later!

So the reason I'm able to write so much now is because we came back to Tubaniso on Monday and are here 'til tomorrow. We've had lots of random sessions, and it's a good chance to take a language break and see all of the other trainees. Also, tomorrow we're going to find out where our site is!!! I'm so excited because we all thought we wouldn't find out for two more weeks.

One of the sessions today was on culture shock so I thought I'd write some about that. For me, one of the hardest adjustments has been to observe the treatment of animals. I knew coming to Africa that cats and dogs aren't seen as pets, but my host family literally beats up on the puppy in our compound. Sometimes they'll just pick it up and throw it. I've started asking them to stop and once I learn Bambara I'll explain how animals are treated in the US. The puppy always hides under my chair because he knows I won't hurt him, which is so sad!

The second problem has been trash. Most villages don't have any formal trash removal system so there's often a lot of litter everywhere. I'll probably start bringing trash from Banankoro back with me to Tubaniso where they'll burn it.

One of the nice changes about Africa is the slow pace of life. There are no awkward silences here. It was pouring rain last week so my family and I came inside from the courtyard and just sat quietly in the dark and drank tea until the rain stopped. It was really peaceful. I love the tea here by the way, probably because it's mostly sugar. It's mainly made for social purposes, because it takes about an hour to prepare and drink (Argentina people - it kind of makes me think about how you describe maté).

Joking cousins are another huge part of Malian culture. No one seems to know the history of it, but basically the family name determines who you're joking cousins with. For example, Coulibaly's are joking cousins with pretty much everyone, including Samaké’s. One of my neighbors is a Coulibaly so whenever we see one another, he'll go "Oh, Samaké, i be sho dun" (you eat beans) and then I'll respond that no, he eats beans. Then we'll laugh, and sometimes I'll say that Coulibaly's are donkeys which is another way to joke. You can do this about five times a day and it never gets old - it's a great ice breaker.

Another cultural difference I've noted is the treatment of kids. First of all, children have more responsibility at an earlier age. One of the girls in my compound who is only about 8 years old is always carrying her baby brother around, strapped to her back. Aminata and Dje'naba, both in their early teens, almost always prepare the meals. I always see my brother Nu, who is 11, wandering around town on a donkey-pulled cart selling wood. Parents also watch their kids less. Every day I come home and even the toddlers are wandering around on the street. Basically you're not a child of just two parents - you're a child of the village and everyone watches out for everyone else. One funny story happened last week between Salimata and Abu, who is about eight years old. Salimata threw a rock at Abu and he retaliated by smacking her on the thigh with a branch. She immediately started bawling, Abu ran away, and her parents and sisters basically just started laughing at her, because she deserved what she got. The parents definitely let their kids make and learn from their own mistakes. Abdoulaye finally pulled her onto his lap though and held her until she calmed down, which was sweet because I usually don't see the father being that close with his kids.

Alright, that's definitely enough for now. By the way, Emma, I'm going to give you Bintou for a Malian name (pronounced Bean-tu). If anyone else wants me to name them, let me know! And for your question about ages of other volunteers, most are recent college grads. There is one 60 year old man, a woman in her 30's, and 3 married couples who I believe are all in their 20's. Oh and Bailey, the alphabet's mostly the same except for about 3 characters which are slightly different. Hope you all are doing well, thanks for all the comments!

Anna

Hi everyone! I have so much to write about since it's been two weeks since my last post and I hardly know where to begin. Wednesday, July 25th, seven other trainees and I were assigned to Banankoro for our pre-service training. PST lasts until September 15th and focuses on language. We've already had 10 days of very intensive Bambara. Banankoro is a small village of about 2000 people, 25 km south of Bamako. Our arrival there was completely surreal. We pulled up to the chief's house and there was a group of 30 or so women and children in a cluster dancing and singing for us. We got out and danced with them for a few minutes and then went into the courtyard of the chief where he formally welcomed us to the village. While we were there a little girl crawled into my lap and it turned out that she's my 5 year old sister, Salimata. Next, we were divided into our host families. I live at the home of Abdoulaye Samake. He has two wives, Nianaba and Woulamatu. I would guess that Abdoulaye and Nianaba are in there 60's and Woulamatu's in her 30's. Nianaba has 6 children, the oldest being 30, and Woulamatu has 5. In the compound where I live, the houses form a square with a central courtyard. Abdoulaye, my mothers and the kids who still live at home live in one house. Abdoulaye's brother, his wife and their 5 kids live in the second house. Abdoulaye's 27 year old son Sidou and his 16 year old wife live in the 3rd house, and the fourth side is composed of my little room, a cooking area, and the shower/bathroom (negen). Needless to say, it's always busy at the Samake house! And they gave me an official Mali name: Awa Samake. All the kids on the street have learned my name, so they yell it at me a thousand times a day as I'm walking to or from the house. I definitely prefer that to "Toubabou" or "white person", which I also hear a thousand times a day from kids who live elsewhere.

I eat all my meals at home, with Aminatta or Dje'naba, two of the sisters (they go to school starting in September but during the summer they work around the house cooking, pounding millet or corn, etc). We eat together out of a big bowl using our hands (I've gotten pretty good!). I like the food but am on starch overload and am always craving fruits and veggies. For breakfast, I eat by myself and have bread (sometimes with fried eggs) and then drink coffee which is actually composed of a ton of powdered milk, a ton of sugar, and a tiny bit of coffee. It's delicious though, probably from all the sugar. For lunch and dinner, it's always either rice, macaroni, black-eyed peas, or potatoes with some kind of meat and sauce. The meat's been the only problem. Fish is okay but we usually eat beef, and each piece literally takes about 5 minutes to chew and I often end up swallowing most of it whole. Last week there was a piece in my bowl that honestly looked like it had teeth attached to it. I'm still trying to figure out what it could have been.

Every morning I fill a bucket with cold water from the well and carry it to a little roofless area attached to the negen, in order to bathe. While running water would definitely be nice, I don't mind bathing this way. Using the negen has so far been the hardest part for me, apart from the language. The one at my house is disgusting. I try to avoid using it at night because there are roaches that crawl out from the hole and run all over the place. I try to avoid using it during the day too because there are hundreds of maggots that I can see at the bottom of the hole, and there are tons of flies coming out of it. I feel like all of the trainees try to out-disgust one another with our negen stories and I think that mine's toward the top of the list!

My host family's really nice and I've started to help more with random chores, such as pounding different things for the sauce to sorting through rice. Salimata's the youngest and she's spoiled rotten. One daughter, Fatoumatta, is married now and lives in a neighboring compound. She has an adorable son, Sory, who is about 2. He was terrified of me at first but actually let me hold him the other day (and then proceeded to get down and pee within two inches of my feet, right in the middle of the courtyard). The younger kids always run out in the road to greet me and are always fighting to carry my bag or help walk my bike. The girls love to dance and have taught me some Malian moves. I gave a bunch of the kids "American" names and they loved it. Several family members speak French, so a lot of times I'll cheat and speak that if I don't understand something (which is pretty much all the time).

So for Bambara - we have about 7 hours of class a day, seven days a week except on Sunday's when we get the afternoons off. Without that American support system I seriously would have gone crazy by now. We usually hang out for about an hour or two after class each day because none of us want to go home and be bombarded by Bambara. A couple of times we've biked to Sanankoroba, a neighboring village, to visit other trainees. There's a bar in Sanankoroba so we met there for a trainee's birthday last week and that one dollar cold Castel beer was the best beer I've ever had.

Nighttime in Banankoro is the worst. I'm always exhausted by the end of the day and usually study, read my novel, write in my journal and then am in bed by 9:30 or so. In my compound, apart from the kids, there's a donkey, a dog and puppy, a bunch of chickens, a rooster, and about a zillion crickets. At least one of these animals is making a noise at every hour of the night, the donkey being the worst. Nighttime's also sometimes incredibly hot and I'll fan myself, stop in order to fall asleep, and then start sweating bullets and have to start fanning again. The weather overall hasn't been bad at all. There have been some super hot days and nights but it also rains about every other day. The rain was so heavy the other night on my tin roof, I was seriously terrified that my room was going to collapse on me.

Okay, I've definitely written enough for now and will try to write more specific stories later. Overall, Mali's still great - there are good days and bad days, which is to be expected. Learning the language will make a world of difference. Several people have asked about what to send in packages. Here's my list: DRIED FRUIT, hand sanitizing wipes, candy bars or m&m's (i'd put those in plastic bags to avoid a mess), face wash wipes (like Oil of Olay or something like that), drawing paper, stationary, magazines (news or celebrity). The address is: Corps de la Paix Mali, BP 85, Bamako, Mali. Oh, and I received letters yesterday from Mom and Dad and Iris Morphew - they only took about two weeks to get here which was comforting! Alright, love you all, miss you all, and please let me know what's going on with you! Keep writing comments, I love reading them. Ka tile here cya (may the peace of your day be multiplied).

Anna (Awa)

i ni sogoma!

I feel like I have so much to write, but I'll try to get to the main points. Sunday was great because we began Bambara lessons. Today we find out what host village we'll be in, so I'll know whether I'll continue on with Bambara or move to another language, depending upon where my site will ultimately be. Yesterday morning we had a session on stereotypes with some of the Malian teachers, and the trainees made a list of common stereotypes that the US has of Mali or Africa, while the Malians made a list of stereotypes toward the US. It was really interesting to see that no matter what was put on the list of African stereotypes, such as that they were dirty or even primitive, the Malians just laughed about it and explained how it wasn't true. In fact, many Africans take 3 showers a day! Some of their US stereotypes included that we were greedy, rich and individualistic, which unfortunately characterizes many Americans. I feel like the statement that Peace Corps volunteers come back from Africa and laugh is true because so far all of the Malians I have met just love to talk and laugh and joke about everything. I love it! It will be interesting to see if Malians who are not as educated or well-off as the ones I have seen are the same, although I imagine they will still have a great sense of humor. Anyway, yesterday was also awesome because we had a cultural festival and got to experience many different aspects of Malian culture. We ate a lunch of jamba rice, sweet potatoes, and salad all out of one communal bowl, shared between 5 or 6 people. We sat on the ground and used our right hands to eat, which I can tell you, is incredibly difficult. I ended up with more food on my pants than in my mouth. Oh well - I have two more years to learn! We also learned a bit of Malian dance, which was awesome, along with the music. Very fast with a lot of butt-shaking! Finally I bought a beautiful pink pagne with a brownish/gold top with pink symbols on it. It is so gorgeous, I can't wait to wear it. It's pretty fancy, so I'll only wear it on special occassions. Oh, also got three more vaccinations yesterday - the count is up to 8, woohoo! Okay, I hope everyone is very well - miss you all!

K'a tile here caya (may the peace of your day be multiplied),

Anna

I'M IN AFRICA!!! I had written several journal entries that I thought I would transfer to the blog, but I don't really have time to write them all out now. I'll just try to sum up any big points. The staging in Philadelphia went well and I met 81 other Mali trainees from all over the US. I'm the only North Carolinian! After a 13-hour plane ride, stopping through Paris, we arrived in Mali on Friday night. We got off the plane to a rush of hot air and many Malians and a few Peace Corps Volunteers waiting to greet us. As I was brushing my teeth on Friday night, I looked up into the sky and the stars were simply gorgeous - I was like, "I'm actually in Africa!". It was an amazing feeling. Right now, all us trainees are at Tubaniso, the Peace Corps training site about 40 minutes outside of Bamako. We'll be here until Wednesday, which is when we'll move into host villages for the 9 weeks of intensive language training. There will be about 5-7 trainees per village and we'll each live with a separate host family. I can't wait to be completely immersed in the language - I don't know at this point whether I'll be learning Bambara or another language, but I'll know by Tuesday. There are about 35 Malians who work with the Peace Corps. One of them was amazed that I went to the same college as Michael Jordan! One of the head honchos, Mamadou or "Sam" always wears these beautiful flowing robes or boubous - actually all of the clothes here are amazing. The women all wear long skirts with nice tops made of different kinds of fabric, but the fabric is beautiful. The men wear things ranging from khakis and polos to boubous. So far I've just been wearing long skirts from home, but tomorrow we'll be able to start buying Malian clothes!!! I can't wait! Yesterday we had about 9 hours of orientation, and we will every day until Wednesday. I also got two more vaccinations yesterday, bringing the total to 5 and counting - luckily I don't mind needles! So far the food has been quite good - we had mangoes for dessert last night! All of the other trainees seem really nice - we've had tons of bonding time so far. I went running yesterday with another girl for about two miles, and the heat wasn't too bad, although it is very hot, probably in the 90's so far. Last night, a couple taught some of us basic swing dance steps, which was fun although I'm ready to learn Malian dance! The time difference is four hours ahead, by the way, from EST. The toilets or nyegens have been the biggest adjustment - basically a tiny hole in the ground which is extremely difficult to aim at. Luckily, they have plenty of toilet paper here! In a month or so though, I figure I'll be a pro. Anyway, in regards to the title, on the ride to Tubaniso we were warned that it is scorpion season, so watch out. Apparently there are also lots of snakes around as well; luckily I haven't seen either so far. And we've been sleeping with mosquito nets over our beds, which is kind've fun. Okie-dokie, hope you all enjoy reading my post and I'll post again soon! A bientot!