[Most of] The Project Muso Team

Malaria Awareness and Outreach with PML in Yirimadio

Niare fete, scary mask

We all want to be a Niare!

It is the last of a four day community action committee training. One women in the group received a phone call in the morning that her daughter was in a car accident (she on a moto). We were all worried and gave many blessings. Later in the day she got a call again, the progress. We held our breath until she got off the phone and said, "She's fine. She's at the police station because the toubab (foreigner, most likely white) whose car she hit is demanding 100,000 CFA (around 200 USD) for damages.

In my past experiences like this in Mali, a group's reaction is easily influenced by whoever pipes up first. I expected it to end in a consensus like, "those white people only care about money." Surprisingly a former Project Muso volunteer's host mother spoke up with, "If it was a Malian's car and a white guy hit it, the Malian would have demanded money from him. That's why the white person is demanding money from her (Malian daughter). If people make it hard for each other, it returns to them."

The second PC goal in action.

This morning on our walk to the road, I talked with my host dad (we'll call him Al) about the progress of the new driving school he hopes to open. He quit his managerial position at another driving school because he thought he could make much more money with his own school, he only needed to buy a car or two first. When I asked him today how he expects to open the school in two weeks he said his wife is lending him the money. Wait, the same wife who asks everyday for 50 cents for a soda? The one who pleads that one more dollar on lunch condiments is all it takes to make the proper meal?

Her sister in America is sending around $2,000 US that she made by selling the Malian fabric her sister sent over from Mali.

I asked where he is thinking of opening this school in two weeks. He doesn't know yet, he's taking into account where all the government workers live, or better yet, where all the women live. "It's the women who have money and who are all wanting to learn to drive." Why? I thought Malian men were the ones who work, responsible for finances? "Well what good is a bunch of money to a man who doesn't have a women to spend it on?" Al says.

A typical day begins; I get up to the sound of my sister sweeping, wash my face before greeting the others. My host mom is sitting with a women and her young child, scolding them for not coming to her earlier as she tests the child for malaria with a rapid diagnostic test, part of our malaria program. As I get on my bike and leave the compound for the office I notice my flat tire and stop around the corner to pump it enough to get me there.

"Good morning," I instinctively greet the young work men laying bricks who have gathered to watch the show.

"Bonjour," one replies.

"Bonjour, ce va?" I respond.

"Oh my goodness you speak great Bambara!" He exclaims, pointing me to his friends as if they hadn't heard.

"All I said was 'good morning' and then I greeted in French, how do you know if I can speak Bambara by that?" I said thinking, well this at least will surprise him. He didn't seem to notice our conversation was in Bambara.

"Well, how do you greet in the evening?" He tested me.

"Why don't we wait until I come by in the evening and you'll see?" I teased. He didn't seem to get the joke so I played along, "Good Evening." The group of young men exploded into laughter. I finished with the tire, hopped on my bike, "Okay, I'm off," I announced my departure. They were still doubled over in laughter but the one called after, "Come back in the evening to chat!"

Two years ago as I struggled to learn Bambara I promised myself that when I got the hang of it, I would not get short tempered at those who laughed, stood dumbfounded, or tried to teach me again how to greet. I would be thankful that they were so willing and excited to help me learn when I knew nothing. As I repeat my name to crowds of laughter or wait for the shock to pass before I get directions, or can't enjoy the ride for the neighbor that just wants to hear you speak, it takes patience, but not as much as the dedication of those who taught me how to love this language.

With a bucket full of mangoes

A view after rock climbing in Siby

Moussa weighing out one women's day worth of gold

Riding into the Sahel in Tombouctou

Fishing Festival 2009

Like I had hoped, coming back to Mali after my first visit home has been refreshing. What I love about living abroad is that every action is exciting. There is excitement in getting to work. What conversation will there be on the ride there? Will it be filled with giggling schoolgirls? The older man who sits and prays? Will everyone be pressed for time and yell at the fare collecter for squeezing in one more passenger or will we sit in silence and breath the exhaust from standstill traffic over the bridge? Who will give to the beggar? Everything I do is an adventure or an experience, and opportunity to learn more. As much as I appreciate what I have, it is fun to escape the comforts and efficiency of being home (because I know I can go back to it)

--To respond to the question about how Mali PCVs filter their water; We have large water filters (bucket size) manufactured in the US, supplied to us. We are also trained to filter and bleach our water and supplied with a limited amount of aquatabs. The deep pump water in my area has been tested and is safe to drink straight, many PCVs just drink the straight tap water in the city. A non PCV I work with has found the UV-pens to be useful and convenient.

My host dad is pretty interested in America and likes to ask questions. This is a version of our conversation over breakfast, with flies swarming to get at the sweetness of the coffee, as we sit on his cement slab overlooking the muddy courtyard.

Host Dad: "What is your project doing to get rid of malaria?"

Me: "Well our view is that to stop malaria you need to kill the parasite, stop transmission from person-mosquito and mosquito-person, and treat malaria cases early. We feel this can be done by finding and treating malaria cases within the first 24 hours, having all people sleep under mosquito nets to prevent transmission, and eliminate mosquito breeding grounds. Our health workers also inform the community about how malaria is spread so people can take responsibility like eliminating standing water in their compound and sleeping under mosquito nets."

Host Dad: "Well mosquitoes can come from trash and so why aren't you paying people to come pick up trash?"

Me: "Our project has prioritized other avenues first for malaria prevention, since we don't have the means to cover everything. Sanitation is a concern and it is important that people are recognizing and doing what they can to keep their compounds and living quarters clean. Mosquitoes will most likely always be around. We have mosquitoes in America. They don't carry malaria anymore but there are mosquitoes around."

Host Dad: "There are mosquitoes in America? I thought that Americans could do anything. But there aren't flies in America."

Me: "There are flies in America! They don't pose as much of a threat as flies here that have open latrines and sewers and sitting wastewater to get into, but they are there."

Host Dad: "Yea but you [in America] could go two days without seeing a fly."

Me: "Yea, that's true you could."

Host Dad: "See, Americans can do everything. If they haven't accomplished something it can't be done."

Me: "Well I wouldn't say that. We are always looking for new solutions but we by no means can do everything. We still have flies."

Host Dad: "That's because you haven't prioritized getting rid of flies. You could if you set your mind to. Everyone has work there."

Me: "Not everyone has work. Especially with the economy downturn recently a lot of people are out of jobs. But it is true, there is more unemployment in Mali than in the states. Even so, a job in the states may not cover all of your needs."

Host Dad: "How does a job not meet your needs? You all have houses with electricity."

Me:"Well you can have electrified housing but some people can't pay every month and then it doesn't come on. And not everyone has a house. There are a lot of homeless people in America. There are shelters where they can sleep at night but they don't own them."

Host Dad: "Homeless people in America? I never knew there were poor Americans. We don't think there are any poor Americans here in Mali."

Would you rather have vegetables grown from wastewater or no veggies at all?

Gosh where did I even leave off?

Michelle, Awa Toure, came for a 10-day visit at the end of February. It was getting hot but she saw a lot! We had a great visit. We organized a celebration for International Women's Day on March 8th. The afternoon was a soccer game between the girl's soccer team and the married women in village. They really played up the opportunity to show off their pants. Then we had a macarroni dinner and DJ-ed dance. A great praise to the powerful women of Tegue and farewell to Mish.

Gold digging season has started, although they haven't had their stroke of luck this year. The women and girls spend morning until dusk knee deep in mud, rinsing to spot the specks of gold amongst the sand. They will be lucky to make the walk home with $2 in their pocket. An American company brought in a big machine that sits on the water. The fishing village sends their men to work the machine, sucking the bottom of the river up then displacing it after it has been filtered for gold.

The dalamon, fishing festival came and went. I bought a new net and had great luck this year! Unfortunately now that theives are draining the marshes of fish before the big day, villagers aren't going home with the bundles they have in the past.

My time in Tegue has officially ended. On June 10th I packed up and moved into my new home in Yirimadjo, the outskirts of the capital Bamako. It has been a change. I am nostalgic for the isolated, grassroots community but I have a great home here and it looks promising. It will be a good opportunity to experience Mali from a new perspective, one of the fast growing cities in the world. But Tegue will always be my home at heart (in Mali, of course).

The last few months of work in Tegue were spent especially on malaria prevention through mosquito net re-impregnation treatment and soak pit making. We gave talks on vaccinations and carried out the UNICEF's "kick polio out of Africa" campaign, finished the maternity staff living quarters, worked to sustain the garden project and ended the 9th grade English school year.

So now until next year I am working with Project Muso Ladamunen (http://www.projectmuso.org/) as technical support in their malaria prevention and treatment initiative. Working to boot malaria out of this place, keep our kids living past five.

Mish in the crowd

8 March Women's Soccer Match

Installing the garden fence

Beating shea butter at our formation

Villagers digging the water pipe tunnel

The Marigold's we planted!

Pounding millet

At a slave castle in Cape Coast, Ghana.

Thank you to everyone who helped us meet our fence funding proposal!

The materials have arrived in Tegue and the men are preparing to install it as we speak (you read). The village is very happy and sends you many many blessings.

As for me things are going well. One day was spent roasting with a fever under my tin roof listening to the tunes of different kids wailing, millet pounding, and the briiiing like the sound of an ice cream truck as the boy rides by collecting broken plastic sandels. He left me craving even my last pick-the pink ice cream baseball glove with a bubble gum baseball. But for now, it'll be green leaf sauce. I have been drying moringa leaves to add nutrition to the sauces. I was thinking, can I make a pesto-like sauce with it? Wait, how do I even make pesto sause? Wish I had Laur or google to ask..(researched..not even close.)

In other work news we have been planning a shea butter formation to improve the quality of our butter in the aims of generating income and healthy cooking oil! And we are looking forward to spreading awareness for World AIDS Day on December 1st.

As the teacher's strike has come to a close I introduced my health reproduction class to the 8th grade. Some are so excited they asked me to teach them to read so they can learn the material better (yes, 8th grade).

For now, the land o' peanuts has started living up to its name. Pulling, shelling, roasting, grilling, grinding..we are busy and happy and hope you are too. We greet you!

In case I started losing track of the months as easily as I lose the weeks the rains have come to remind me that yes, it’s been a year. Only this time around I know how to time my laundry and appreciate the water that is hydrating my rice for the next year. The women have started planting their peanut crops between cooking for the men who are out planting their rice and corn crops for the next year. My host sisters and their girlfriends start their day at 4am to collect the fallen shea nuts. Shea and peanuts are work reserved only for the women. If they can get garden plots that’ll be an extra curricular activity.

For my part we installed our water tap by the health clinic and are trying to sensitize the village into drinking tap water instead of well water. Malnutrition, diarrhea and malaria have spiked during rainy season providing a bigger audience for their prevention.

I have just returned from my travels to Ghana. Or perhaps more accurately from my bus ride along the Ghanaian coast, with a few extended rest stops in Bobo, and Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), Kumasi, Axim, Takoradi, Cape Coast and Accra (Ghana). Highlights included the cocaine bust on the bus ride down, spending the night on and overcrowded smelly Hawaiian-feeling (never been to Hawaii) bus, the bustling markets of Kumasi, meat sticks, and the wonderfully cheap Fan ice cream. The get-us-out-of-here-asap overnight stay in Axim to the luxurious resort on the beach (we overstayed our welcome by choosing to not eat at the overpriced restaurant). We relaxed with the beautiful beach town and slave castles of Cape Coast, Kakum National Park for rain forests, meeting backpackers and other West Africa PCVs (and oh yes, the Brooklynite) and long nights of Nertz cards with Ghanaians carefully eyeing us or we sneaking earfuls of them. Our array of hotels were something to look back and laugh about, I haven’t figured out if there even is hot water in Ghana. Add two more nights with three in my one person tent on the road back to Mali and I think I got the feel of “a night out on the town.”

The compound of Moussa has welcomed another Nantenin! I didn't realize that apart from the night of dancing and gift giving, Malian weddings involve a week worth of entertainment. Which in my older brother's case means sending your younger brother to take care of the garden while you entertain the people coming and going with cards, music, food and tea. Because my brother's house and my house share the same "sitting space," I would sneak off to the old schoolhouse in mid-day to catch up on sleep lost from the night before. With a little persuading, all of the bride's new pots and cooking supplies were mounted on the new wooden table inside her hut..a sign that this Malian women is here to stay.

So here I am in my first hot season. The highlights include catching a breeze by the river and going mango picking. And my garden is flourishing with cucumbers.

On the work front, twelve women just participated and completed a 10 day nutrition program I facilitated to promote positive health practices and rehabilitate their malnourished children. Except for a few discouraging moments (mostly Malians' lack of punctuality) I think it was successful, and the kids gained weight on the delicious (if I may say) porridge! And thanks to Fode's hard labor soak pits are slowly being finished. I'm glad they will be there for rainy season! Already some rains have come to relieve the heat and it sure makes the walking paths muddy. The next thing in line is to work on getting fencing around the women's garden. If the women can start producing I can just imagine what good the extra food and income can do!

At the entrance to Tegue-Coro

The backview of my house.

Catch of the day: Blowfish!

Mom and Dad and my Host Mom and Dad!

New Year's Eve 2008

About to cross the River Niger

Tegue had a visit from up North! They came in search of our peanuts.

Playing UNO with Fabou and Lamine!

Mom and I and some of the clinic staff

I apologize for the delay since my last entry! After January training finished I spent a good solid month in village and it has really begun to feel like home. I managed to get myself a few plots of garden and the tomatoes, peppers and lettuce have sprouted! Unfortunately I may have to try again on the carrots.

A friend of mine was engaged and married all in this past month, so she was whisked away to live with and cook for her husband's family in another village.

And in late February my namesake was born! My 16 year old friend next door had her baby and affectionately named her Nantenin fitini, small Nantenin (my more Malinke name, Teninba is Bambara and apparently an old-fashioned name).

Mom and Dad just left, we had a wonderful adventure. The village was so warm and welcoming, I couldn't have felt prouder! They loaded us up with fruits and peanuts thinking no way could Mom and Dad eat rice everyday. But they even had their first taste of toh! The 7th graders had a blast trying to guess the English name of the picture Dad drew on the blackboard; Except they were a little stumped when he pulled out the electric stove. We took a trip to the Niger River and enjoyed its tranquility compared to the busy, smothering ports of Mopti. Even with a little heat, lack of cool drinks, oversized cockroaches and sitting through a bad Chuck Norris film, Mali showed us a great time. And true to it's reputation, I think it's safe to say Sali and Zoumana got their share of Malian greetings.

I guess it is only appropriate that I brought in 2008 in the village where I will spend the entire new year. Contrary to Malian culture where you are expected to appear at any party without an invitation, I attended an exclusive celebration for Fode and his club of friends. The next morning we were the talk of the town, with my host siblings bubbling to me about how they peeked in and saw me eating chicken and drinking soda! Woot! I was asked by a few random people to have a picture taken with me (from the sole owner of a 35mm camera who charges per picture). Another volunteer made an analogy that perfectly captures how I feel a lot of the time:

We are like ice cream trucks; Even if it comes by everyday, kids will still run and scream as they follow it around town.

So just when I thought nothing would surprise me anymore...One evening as I was cooking with a young female friend, she plopped a mouse on top of the fire. I looked next to me and saw a young girl holding (maybe selling?) a pot full of dead mice. I wasn't around long enough to see if she ate it like she said she would. But it was a good little reminder of yep, I still haven't reached "Malian" status, despite some that insist I have (and others who reassure I never will).

Well, in a few days these past two weeks of technical training will be up and I'll head back to site to generate interest in my projects. But first I'm off to another volunteer's site to learn something about how to work with the Shea butter in my region (Makeovers by Mali-the next Body Shop collection??).

And it's official! Mom and Dad will be here in a little over a month. This is so exciting, and it will be interesting to see Mali through a fresh pair of eyes. Maybe we can get them to write a blog entry on it..

I just celebrated my first Tobaski (the big holiday for Muslims). Except for a slight glitch in obtaining a uniform dress, it was wondrously spent eating goat all day and dancing all night. I met about ten more members of my family that came home from Bamako for the holidays. You can always tell the new people in town because they stare a little longer and everything I do is still intriguing.

I've also started going "fishing" with Fode. I can't reveal his secret but we basically just bike out to the Niger river and see if there are fish caught in his traps. Then his wife rushes to cook them up for lunch or dinner, whichever meal comes next. We caught a huge blow fish the other day, Malians don't eat those he said. But then my host mother protested that next time I should be sure to bring it back!

For a few tiresome days I helped with a Mali-wide vaccination campaign. I was in charge of making sure protesting mothers entered the vaccination hut one by one..a lot harder than it sounds. If I got lucky I would get a break to hold a screaming child scared to death of the white girl and the shot in his arm.

I also posted my "what I like about Mali list." I started it when I first got to site and have added to it as I've been inspired.

My host family at site. The Traore's.

One of my compound brothers playing "mom" to the baby goat, Bintu.

My host mom and me sporting my sunglasses

My bedroom

My house! Taken from the bedroom. The front door (only door) is on the right.

With my language tutor in our Ramadan dress-up in his office. (self timed photo)

Ok scratch what I said about rarely using my stove. I am now (for the first time in my life) cooking my own breakfast and dinner everyday..its getting interesting. But I have discovered a love for my very own vegetarian tomato sauce.

So my days now are pretty busy! I mean, with going around and greeting at least three concessions where my closest friends are (required daily) I spend some mornings at our maternity and Thursdays I go to the market town and help with pre-natal consultations there. I've started attending English classes in the regional school, which conveniently is just a few minutes walk down the road, and attempted to teach one class by myself so far! Of course, then the teacher had to basically teach it all again so the kids could understand. But my language is coming along they say..

So right before I left village this morning I stopped by the maternity to greet, just in time for the hernia surgery! I stood there observing, doing my part to swat the flies away from the patient and trying not to block the light from the window, thinking how different it is from a year ago as I was watching some of the most modern technology perform surgery at Geisinger.

It's weird how everyday has its ups and downs, as I'm still trying to figure out exactly how things are done in Tegue. Being a replacement has been both good and bad. But cold season has pretty much arrived! You might hardly notice except the nights are pleasantly cold and I don't feel like I need to bathe everytime I sit outside. They say by next year I'll be wearing winter jackets like the rest of them!

Reading through my past blogs, its crazy how much things have changed, and how fast. It's amazing the things that seem "normal" to me now. So, no more macaroni, eggs or potatoes. I'm feeling more Malian as I eat porridge for breakfast, and rice or toh for lunch and dinner everyday. I never thought I would say this, but I actually don't mind it!

There is so much to share about my first three weeks at site, I just don't know where to begin! I have yet to get into a routine and everyday comes with new surprises. My "language tutor" has really morphed into my closest friend in the village. We spend hours a day drinking tea, grilling corn on the cob and nibbling peanuts fresh from the ground. He even started running with me, which the villagers think is hilarious. It's been five years he said since he last went running (he's about 42 now) because he is very busy with work. I guess some things are the same cross-culturally. But running with him, I just can't stop laughing. Especially because it is so important to greet in Mali, everyone we meet says, "You are running." (Malians like to state the obvious) "Where are you running?..You're running to Kenyiege? You are going on foot? You are going to Kenyiege and back on foot?" (As we are clearly running on foot). The same thing goes for the market days. Most Thursdays I will bike to the market to pick up some groceries. Last week for the end of Ramadan, I got my hair braided. The greetings always make me laugh, "You are going to Market? You are going by bike?" (As I am on my bike) "Can I go on your bike? What will you buy at the market? Will you buy potatoes at market? And then cook them and give them to me? Can you cook? I will come to your house this evening and you will cook potatoes and give them to me." In reality I barely ever cook, though I am probably the only one in the village with a gas stove.

One exciting afternoon, while I was sitting having tea and making friendship bracelets, the matrone from the maternity (small doctor's office in Tegue) came to get me to go to the banana fields. As promised, a banana farmer from the village was there amongst the trees and overfilled my backpack with bananas. I am constantly struck at the generosity of Malians even though they have so little as it is. Just today as I was walking to use the computer (I am about a two hour bike ride from my village) a taylor stopped me and invited me to come chat with him. We drank tea and he wouldn't let me refuse lunch.

So everyday is adventure and I'm really loving "getting to know my village." It's pretty quiet because there are one or two cars that pass through Tegue-Coro about 5am each morning. Other than that it's just the crying of baby goats and chickens cock-a-doodling that gets me up. I saw my first Malian baby's birth at the maternity the other day. Today I'll bike back home so I can attend a baby-naming ceremony tomorrow (they have a ceremony a week after a baby is born to give the baby's name, sacrifice a goat, give presents, dance, etc.).

Much love!

Most of my siblings and a few others on the side of the main road through Banankoro

Minogo and Jaraku brushing teeth!

Bess and Amanda working on the wash area/soak pit

My host dad, Karim..go Pats

Soap making during training..Ana (Awa), Brandon (Sidi), Elise (Sianwa), Amanda (Diala), Tenneba

Sali and I cooking one of my favorite dinners..potatoes!

So I realized after I uploaded the pictures that they were sideways..but it took so darn long that I thought something was better than nothing for now!

Here I am with most of my brothers and sisters the morning I left homestay. My sister with the pink head-wrap is the one I always ate with. And the boy in the red is now brushing his teeth. :)

Me and my homestay mom, Sali, at our farewell dance. I am carrying my baby sister on my back.

My new home at site!

The garlic bread was a hit! I think mostly because they had never had cheese before, they didn’t even recognize the package which I had bought in the butiki (small shop) around the corner.

So I have officially said goodbye to my homestay family. It was pretty emotional. My sister who I ate every meal with was too embarrassed to come out and say good-bye because she was in the house crying. My homestay dad really seemed to like the Patriots shirt that snuggly fit him. I bought the family 25 kilos of rice and the kids seemed to really like the ziploc bags that I was leaving behind. I also gave my younger brother the remainder of my toothpaste. I had an awesome experience this week. As I was chatting with my younger siblings I asked then what they did today. Just on a whim, because I knew they always got a kick out of watching me brush my teeth, I asked my brother if he brushed his teeth today. My mom brushes her teeth by chewing on a certain tree branch. My brother said no, he doesn’t have a toothbrush. I don’t know why that surprised me at first. When I asked my language teacher later if it would be okay to give my brother a toothbrush he said yes, but don’t expect him to use it except the first time in front of me. I thought I would give it a try, and was pleasantly surprised at the outcome! He would come to me odd times of the day and ask for some toothpaste to brush. If it wasn’t right before dinner I would brush with him, that way I could teach him how to do it. I think tasting toothpaste for the first time surprised him a little because at the end he washed his mouth out about ten times. I hope to see those sparkling whites when I return to visit!

So other excitement this week; I showed my sister how to treat a mosquito net and the importance of that. My mom's womens group showed us how to make the soap they sell, then we taught them how to home-make oral rehydration solution. Oh, and I passed my language test! Woo that means I become an official Malian and PCV this Friday. Next update will be after I am moved into my new home!

So at site my new, now permanent address will be:

Becky Kosowicz

Corps de la Paix

B.P. 74

Kangaba, Mali West Africa

I will probably be installed soon after September 21st. That means that this is my last week at homestay before we come back to the training site for swear-in. I will miss my homestay family so much. They have been more than I could have asked for, except now my new site family has a lot to live up to. I promised them I would make them "Ameriki" food this week. With the limited resources that is going to be garlic bread. I hope they are as excited as I am! This past week at homestay we practiced some of the technical techniques that hopefully I will start in my site. We made ameliorated porridge for a group of mothers and also held a baby weighing session. We had about 30-40 children under two years old come to be weighed, most of them to receive the porridge that we were giving out. I was surprised at the few children who were in the green zone, which is considered healthy.

Yesterday those of us in the health sector visited an AIDS NGO in Bamako. I was so excited to learn that ARVs and tests for HIV positive people is free in Mali now! And this center offers many services like pre and post HIV testing counselling. I am so impressed by the services and what appears to be relative success of the center. As we spoke with one of the doctors there he said something that really motivated me. When asked how people knew about HIV/AIDS and the clinic he said "There are broadcasts on the television. Where there is not television there is radio. Where there is no radio there are Peace Corps volunteers."

Here I am back at the training site after my first week in what will be my home for two years! I don't think I could have imagined what my village is like. I left the training site with my homologue, a woman in my village who has been assigned as my work counterpart, someone to help me develop and carry out projects during my service. When we arrived at the bus station she directed me to the corner of the last wooden bench where people filled the benches crowding a small television set while waiting for their bus to leave. She then told me she was going to buy clothes and she would come back before our bus left that afternoon. So she left and I looked at my watch. It was approximately 7:30am and afternoon could mean anything after 2pm! So for the next seven hours I sat on the hard bench and cracked the Autobiography of Malcolm X while trying not to drink much water because I didn't want to leave our bags to find the negen. I made a couple of new friends which is surprising considering the amount of conversation we managed to understand.

So once the bus rolled out the 25 or so of us crammed into about 16 spaces bounced along 4.5 hours of unpaved road. Every kilometer or so the road was flooded and I would hold my breath as the driver plowed through the puddles like he was driving a duck tour bus in Boston. I couldn't help but remember the Lewisburg flooding that ruined some cars back at Bucknell. Little could I imagine that the ride back to Bamako everyone would have to get out and walk next to the bus as it forged to cross the flood.

With the wait at the bus station and washed out road, I arrived much later than expected at my village. My village is a loop off the main road, containing around 1,000 people. No electricity, running water or cell phone service (except maybe under one tree on a really clear night). But thanks to an NGO in the area the site has one tap of drinkable water for the village, cleaned by solar power! I met Lindsay, she is the current volunteer who I will be replacing, who was frantically running about informing everyone that yes, I had arrived safely.

First impression of my new home: so cute! I'll try to upload some pictures I took. It is two rooms and has a tin roof, which has its ups and downs. Tin is nice because unlike thatched roofing I won't have to worry about mice making a home of it, and less leaks during rainy season. But the rain is so much louder and it gets pretty hot. The back room is my bedroom with a full size bed, the front room is brighter and is where I will cook/eat. The inside walls were decorated by the village with cow manure, a nice touch on the mud walls. In my free time at site I sat and envisioned how I would decorate my new home.

I spent the week being introduced to my village, who I am sure can't hear the difference between my name, Tenenba, and Lindsay's name, Jenniba. On Thursday we biked to the nearest market town a few kilometers away where I watched and recorded updates for prenatal consultations. Looks like I will be doing most of my work with malnutrition and pregnant mothers/young children. After a few days of porridge for lunch and rice with sauce for lunch and dinner, Lindsay decided it was time to show me the nearest big town. About 25km away that is where I will get my mail (new address coming soon!), have cell phone access and use the internet on Fridays afternoons at an NGO in the town. Lindsay and I met up with the 2 other volunteers who use the post office and two baptist missionaries who live around the area.

Overall it was great to finally get a feel for where I will be living. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared of making the final move in a month.

Wow, has it really only been two weeks?

Homestay has been a whirlwind experience. So many new sites, faces, food, smells..the list goes on! I have my own room in my family's compound. My father has four wives, but one has been assigned to me. They seem to not mind each other, although in broken Bambara I believe the first wife thinks more than one wife is too much. The children and their children, and maybe someone else's children all live in houses that surround the outdoor kitchen (a room in the center of the dirt compound) and a well. I haven't gotten everyone's names down let alone who belongs to who. But basically this has been my daily routine for the past few weeks:

I emerge from my canopy (mosquito net) draped bed around 6:30 and put my plastic bucket outside the door. This signals to my mother that I am awake. She takes the pail, fills it from water from the well mixed with water she has been heating, and walks it over to the latrine (negen). I am watching her like a hawk from inside my house, and when my water pail reaches the negen I bee line over there. I can't greet everyone until I have bathed. As I have become more acclimated, I try to fetch my own water in the morning. After the warm sponge bath I return to my room and lay out a straw mat, sit and make nescafe with sweetened condensed milk. I make a hard-boiled egg on bread sandwich and pack the other half of the bread loaf and the third hard boiled egg for school snacks. Breakfast is my favorite meal. As I leave my compound I recite the same five greetings to most of the adults in my family and almost everyone I pass on the walk to school. The small children are satisfied with chanting a chorus of "tubobu! tubobu!". After four hours of language class I walk back home for my lunch of rice and "leaf sauce." My 18 year old sister joins me in my house for lunch. After lunch I try and chat with my family and drink tea, or take a nap in the sweltering heat of my tin-roofed room. Then it is back to the "classroom" (folding chairs under a large mango tree (the mangos are out of season)) for a couple of hours. After class the seven other trainees and I may stall returning home and buy Fanta at the corner shop. When I have finished greeting my family, my mother insists that I go wash. What seems like the entire family and half the village watch as I stuggle to pull my water up forty feet through the well. They laugh as I lug my pail to the negen, trying not to spill all of its contents on the way. My evening wash is calming as I stand beneath the sunset in the roofless negen. As long as I don't look down into the noodle soup resembling magot bath below, I am refreshed for an evening of laughs as I struggle to communicate with my family in Bambara. Sitting on a mat in my room under lamplight, my sister and I will share a bowl of elbow macaroni with tomato/oil sauce for dinner. Sometimes there are pieces of meat in the bowl, which no matter how long you chew them for, never seem to break down. It is a daily decision: should I spend the next 15 minutes chewing in silence, hoping my sister will leave long enough for me to get rid of it, or risk choking myself by swallowing the chunk?

As my daily activities become routine, I am enjoying my homestay life more and more. Getting together for the long days, the other trainees and I share many good laughs at our cultural "fauxpas."

Without having left the training center, I have already been exposed to some Malian culture essentials. I am starting to get the hang of the latrines; they are cement floors with a hole cut out. And for now there is a shower in there. I tested out my first load of laundry but then a thunderstorm and sprayed mud back over my hanging shirt. This afternoon we had a Malian culture festival in our training compound where I purchased my first pagne (wrap skirt) and top. Real Malian clothes! Lunch was served in traditional Malian style. Six of us trainees shared a bowl of rice with meat, potatoes, and cabbage. Using only my right hand and squishing it into a ball, I managed to drop only about half of eat bite into my lap. And there goes all my etiquette--turns out I should be lickng my fingers clean after all! Later on, not knowing exactly what I was getting myself into, I sat for henna tattoos on both my feet and my right hand. I'm not sure if I would prefer the solid black color that it should have been or the orange/brown that it turned out. Now when I glance at my feet I think I have stepped into a pool of mud.

Today's lessons were exciting, as we received our mosquito netting (impregnated just for you, Mom) and PC medical kit. We have also started Bambara lessons, and after being deemed novice-low on my French test (no surprise there) I was glad that my Assistant PC director hinted my project site would be Bambara speaking.

The next step in our training is a two week homestay. Looking forward to better learn and apply the essential means of "integration."

Much love

June 21st and the second day at our training site! Everything is going well; The people are great and the culture seems rich. Feels like I am studying abroad again.

I have set up my first blog and hope it will keep you updated--and so I can hear from you as well!

xoxo

(see other PCV links for other views/details I've neglected)