I woke up super early this morning just to make sure it got done today. I fretted and fretted for weeks about having to deal with all the presumptive issues that would arise. I dressed up, albeit my shirt was a John Deere tractor shirt. And then, I went for it.

I closed my Malian bank account today. I've been paid for the last time. I've passed in my ID card and I signed away all the papers. I no longer have an ATM card (carte GAB). I no longer will deal with BNDA (Banque Nationale de Developpement Agricole).

And you know what? It feels great. It was easy, at times seeming far too easy. All these horror stories of fighting with the people at the bank to sign certain papers and not having to pay exorbitant prices to shut the thing down (here you have to pay for everything, including to close your account. See that paper work ain't free. Or so they say.), my experience was none of that. I was finished in three hours, which is quite a feat here, especially on Friday when offices close at 11.30 for prayer. I only had to pay the 30 dollars to close, nothing more. And they even signed my paper, which they wouldn't do for other volunteers. I think I didn't act Peace Corps-esque to them, and they treated me better as a result. I'm impressed.

And more importantly, this harkens to a greater piece of information: my Peace Corps service is finished. I've moved everything out of my site. All my books, all my clothes, all my stuff. They now sit ready to pack, eagerly looking at me to put them in bags and board the plane. My official last day as a volunteer is August 21st. I'll board the plane to France that day, and shortly there after - stopping to see Paris en route, of course - I'll be in Boston. Ready for the Red Sox, nachoes and the cocktail of medications I'll have to endure for a couple of weeks to kill all the stowaway parasites I've developed during my time here.

I am, of course, incredibly reflective right now. I've been backing up old photographs and remembering all that's happened here. Two years has been a long time and until I looked at those pictures, I hadn't really grasped what an extended period my service really was. I look so much older now, so much more worn. I guess being 25 may have something to do with it. (And 50 pounds underweight too!)

I'm working on a blog entry that'll close this thing off; a final submission to end a two year writing experiment (so often taken by... well, everyone who joins PC!) It's not ready. I'm not ready, to be honest. But I'm getting there. Slowly.

So until that time,

Allah k'an ben dowere.(May God allows us to speak again)

Ryan

Over the last month Mali has been engulfed in all things soccer. Every boutique or shop is watching it and if they're not watching it, they're talking about it. Cell phones across the country are loaded up with the Wavin' Flag theme song by K'Naan and there is no hesitation to play it (over and over and over again!) on public transport. And now, with the third place game tonight and the big final tomorrow everywhere is planning for big festivities, even if no African teams are playing. The Ghana loss to Uruguay last week knocked the wind out of my friends here, but football is football and as long as its on, people will watch it. To be completely honest, I was kinda glad Ghana lost. I have nothing against the country and I had a wonderful vacation there when I went down, but I was still a bit bitter about the US loss. Now, I know as a Peace Corps volunteer I should be proud and supportive of my host country, or in this case, host continent, but the atmosphere of that night, the crowded bar with far too many drunk Ghanaians/Malians and the "edge-of-your-seat-I-can't-believe-the-US-is-good" feelings instilled a bit of nationalism only seen in ice hockey games. I ended up leaving the bar after the final Ghana goal, opting to not watch the final 15 minutes and to walk back to the house. It was a self preservation thing. As I was walking back, I began to think over all the other games, all the other teams and all the other places I've watched games.

The tournament began in early June, right after I left my site to go into Bamako for our COS (Close of Service) conference, where we discussed what comes next and what just finished. It was a really good time and the last (for a while, at least) before I see a lot of my group. We all leave here in a staggered formation, with some having already gone and each week a couple more leaving, until you're only left with the handful of people who opted to stay for a third year. With this backdrop, the World Cup started like a final hurrah to our two years of service. It's exciting that its in Africa and it's exciting that the US team was in it, and for once really good (sorry Alexei Lalas) and its exciting that there were some African teams that (seemingly) had a chance. In the beginning I was really excited to see some of the African teams play, after having watched them in this year's African Cup of Nations, but honestly wasn't surprised when they'd didn't advance much further than the first round. Africa has some good players, Didier Drogba, Michael Essien and Samuel Eto'o to name the obvious, but they don't necessarily have good squads. Like Germany (rest in peace), who have stars all over the pitch or the Netherlands who've got a balance of age and youth needed to make it to the finals (and hopefully win). It was a good showing, but just like some of the issues I've faced over the last couple years, Africa is a bit behind.

And just as each team varies from the next, so too did the locations where I watched them:

One match I watched was inside a grass shanty, with dirt floors and the sound of a generator buzzing in the background. Many took place at corner shops, with the entire neighborhood gathered around a fading old color television and people constantly yelling for others to shut up. A handful were observed at the PC house in the capital on a new flat screen television with A/C and burgers. Others took place over the radio, in both French and English thanks to the BBC. Still others took place in bars across the country, including that fateful US/Ghana game. I watched several games at the local four star Radisson, where we convinced the owner to give us a deal on our drinks. (Those matches were by far the most comfortable to be at!)

I watched games on both the local television channel, ORTM, that has aired every match they could from a French station, AUB, as well as on actual French television and was very fortunate to watch the Netherlands/Brazil match on Armed Forces Network (AFN) in English at an ex-pats house. I took a three day hike and heard about several games from people as we stopped in their villages to rest. One match I remember took place as I walked throughout town, stopping every couple of shops down just to catch another minute or so before heading off. While watching I'd scope out the nearest television set just so that I wouldn't miss too much. When I think back, it wasn't that that match was all that important more so that it was a welcome distraction-turned-addiction. And that's the wonderful thing about soccer/football/ballonton, it's provided a wonderful distraction from the monotony of life here or the rains or whatever was going on that day.

As I sit here writing, I have five weeks and 6 days left until I leave country and in that time I have to pack up and say goodbye to the last two years and prepare for what going home means. During the days I think about leaving and taking care of forms and paperwork needed to close out my service. (I work for the US government, so of course there are lots of papers to fill out!) But every night there has been a game and with the starting kick-off all the concerns and worries of the day subsist. I'm gonna miss Mali, most certainly, but for right now there is soccer to watch. Come Monday, I'll start thinking for real about what going home means. Until then: UP NETHERLANDS!

(I'm off to village tomorrow afternoon before the match starts, and will hopefully be able to watch it with everyone in Konofaye. Then that'd be one more location to add to my exhaustive list. With oranges and tea and all the friend's I've made since coming here. A fitting end.)

Part of being a Peace Corps volunteer is working with the communities on development projects. Part of it is learning about the host country and bringing that knowledge back to the States and part of my work is bringing a bit of the States to my host community. Pretty much every time I sit down to drink tea I'll get a question about back home and many times I'll try to prompt my friends to get some idea of what they know about who Americans are and what we believe so that I'm not answering the same questions. I of course get the 'it's fantastic' or that 'everyone has money' answers. Many times when I tell people I don't have money they answer that my dad must (always the father) and that he'll gladly give me some which I can then pass on to them. I tell them this isn't the case, that I can't just ask my dad for money (despite what my dad might have to say about the matter : ) ) but they refuse to believe me. 'There is money somewhere, if you look for it' they say. I leave it at that - there is no way I can convince them otherwise (as I sit on my fancy laptop listening to my iPod and drinking a soda!) For many in Mali this is what the US represents. We're a wealthy country that spreads that wealth out to the world. This isn't necessarily how we see ourselves though and that is another concept that is difficult to speak about.

I think many times we see our role in the world as being black and white. Either people love the US and want to go and live there or they hate us and are some varying form of terrorist. Now I think this idea has softened a bit with Obama taking office, but it was a matter of policy under Bush for sure. The reality is far more complex than this. Some people hate some of our actions but still look favorably upon us, others think here and there we have done good things but overall we're having a negative impact (and of course we have the extremes too. We do have blind faith countries that'll follow us into the flames and we do have terrorist states looking to end our existence but I believe they're far less of a presence than we may perceive them to be). Most Malians I have talked with look upon the US favorably. We're seen as a strong, powerful country that works to help the world. They see a nation giving money to Mali to build infrastructure or develop democracy and that's all they need to know, that's enough to make a positive impact. I don't believe most people I've talked with have considered the implications of US aid. There are strong political ramifications of accepting money from the US. Now its not as bad as it was during the Cold War, but there are still strict guidelines in place for a country to receive funds from the States. For those who are aware of this, there is a bit of hesitation over certain issues. This is one reason that many love the Chinese here. They have come in with no political agenda other than to secure resources and radically changed the landscape, building roads and bridges and all the things Mali has lacked over the years. They work quickly and things seem to be done efficiently. Not to say the US doesn't achieve the same ends, but the means are a bit different for sure.

But by asking the question, "What do you think about the States?" I wasn't looking to have a discussion on development aid theory or the political implications of accepting funds from the United States. I wasn't even looking to discuss my family's financial situation. Instead I was looking more for an answer to 'what does the US represent to you and your community, what do you know about people from the United States?" More of a sociological answer. When I rephrase it to include these aspects, I get some pretty wild answers. For example, I've heard from villagers that all Americans raise partridges and pheasants in their houses and that Africans have tried so many times to domesticate the fowl but failed and that Americans have successfully done this. (And for some wild reason we're keeping the secret from them!) I chuckled at the idea of my sister going out and feeding the family partridges or my mom de-feathering a plump bird for dinner. (There is no concept of pre-packaged, deboned chicken breast and what it looks like. we logically must eat what they eat and its probably from the same place. If only they knew.) As I ask this question more and more, I continue to get some pretty radical ideas about America and Americans and in honor of the Fourth of July, I've included them here for you. Here are somethings that even I didn't know about the United States:

- America has 52 states, not 50 and as an American I'm misinformed. I've questioned so many times why this is, where those two extra states are located, to no avail. I thought maybe they had assumed Washington D.C. was its own state and that they had maybe heard of Puerto Rico or Guam or something to that nature. This seems logical, right? But no, its not this. After discussing it with some PC friends I've heard two very plausible theories:

1.) The first theory is that Malians who have seen a map of the US see the Continental States and think there are 50, thus making Hawai'i and Alaska the 51st and 52nd states. . If you can't count, and you're not sure what's a state and what's a river - I'm looking to you Delaware - you'd have no idea how many states exist. The more plausible of the two theories, and as I understand it the most likely, option but...

2.) The second choice is that there are, in fact, fifty states around North America but that Israel and Iraq are states as well. This one I find to be so off the wall ridiculous that I choose to follow this idea because it entertains me. One Malian told me that we invaded Iraq and killed Saddam, so we're now in charge of the country and it belongs to us. (Which, by the way most Malians don't think was bad. There in agreement that killing Saddam, an Arab, was the best decision. Plus it means we're super strong and tough, and that's cool too.) And we give so much money to Israel that we of course own them. I'm still amused by this theory, even after hearing it so many times! There is a bit of logic to it, in a political science kinda way, like the Feds and AIG, we just kinda own it... sorta.

- All Americans can fly a plane and we all own one. I've told people that in America I can drive a car and could get around on a motorcycle pretty easily, so they then ask whether I can fly a plane. I wonder about this one a lot. Where and when did a villager see someone in a plane and think we can all fly and own planes? James Bond maybe? People refuse to believe me when I tell them I can't. Sure, I could learn but that's something difficult and expensive to achieve so most Americans don't do it. Imagine if we all could fly planes - all the accidents, all the deaths, all the pollution and crazy people zooming around above our buildings and streets. Drunk flyers would be an absolute mess. Thank goodness the 1960's videos of the future were wrong and we don't have jetpacks. Wallai!

- We all know karate and we can fight whenever we need to (and we fight a lot!) This comes from kung-fu movies and action films that are easy and entertaining to watch even if they're in English, not Bambara. Kids always pose for photos in some Jackie Chan position with the most intense look on their faces. All throughout Mali classes and programs are offered to learn karate and most people who say they know it claim to be blackbelts. Never fight a Malian, that's the lesson from this! (Though really, everyone is a blackbelt?) Many Malians also tell me that they invented kung-fu, that its a traditional African fighting system. Yes, many traditional tribes had/have fighting styles (I'm thinking of the Zulu warriors in South Africa who fought against the British) but never have I heard of karate coming from here. I guess all the Japanese, Chinese and Thai fighters who train from traditional methods are being duped, they're just learning an imported version from Africa. Prison Break is a really popular program here and many people have little snippets on their phones that they watch over and over again, most of these being fighting scenes. I think its a sad day when we're exporting Fox programs as cultural representations (though the Simpsons do get a free pass.)

-Every American owns a money making machine and the government will give you one if you request it. This is one thing I've had a hard time understanding and for the last two years wondered if I was just mistranslating what people were saying, but many people in my village tell me that they believe all Americans are so wealthy because we produce all the money we need in our houses. Now I automatically think about what this would mean for inflation, but I can understand how one would come to this conclusion. If you think about all the money we supposedly have in the States, all the wealth we each individually possess, it's gotta come from somewhere, right? Why not from a machine in our basements, right next to the one that washes our clothes (another concept that blows my village away: A machine that washes your clothes for you, like on a washboard machine? Yeah, like on a washboard.)

Another thing that I love about US/Malian relations is that Malians adore Barack Obama. He's they're guy simply because he's black. George Bush gave tons of money to Africa for development - he may have stipulated that we teach abstinence with that money, but regardless, it was money. But he was a stiff white guy. And frankly, kinda boring. Barack on the other hand is lively and hip, he represents change and being black will automatically help out 'his people' in Africa. (Many of these reasons are why we love him too. He is that powerful of an image.) As a result of their infatuation, Malians strive for things with Obama's face or name adorning them. You can find belts and bracelets and shoes and jeans and underwear with either Obama's face or name scratched across it. Many times it's misspelled or it doesn't look like him, but regardless, its the point behind it that matters, right? One of my favorite things I've seen was a pair of sandals this old guy was wearing that said O' Bama. No wonder the Irish love him so much, he's one of us. I also get that he isn't really American, that in fact he's a real African. Being lighter skin just means he's from the herding tribe, the Fula or Peuhl people, and surely he can speak their language, you just need to ask. 'A ye Fula nuyman ye, tiendon' - He's a good Fulani, for real.

I've been keeping tabs of some of the other things that make me chuckle, the other misconceptions that Malians have about the United States. What it comes down to is that most Malians know very little about who or what the U.S. is. Many actually think France is a state in America and that we can get there by bus and they wonder why I don't just visit home more often. I say that although my mom would agree, I can't just get go by bus, that there is in fact a giant body of water in between and I must go by plane. I will inevitably get the question, 'But how do you go to the bathroom?' And every time I chuckle. No, they don't have open air bathrooms on the planes, it just wouldn't work.

A majority of the population of Mali is Muslim and Islam is prevalent throughout most communities, affecting even those who don't directly adhere to it's beliefs. This means several things. The word for God in Bambara is Allah, so even if you're Christian it means you say blessings and benedictions referring to Allah as your God. It means that you can't find pork products in much of the country and when you do, they're expensive. It means that on Fridays everything shuts down at 11:30 (including the Peace Corps office in Bamako). It also means that many traditional believers look down upon alcohol.

You can find alcohol in country, in the capital you can buy really nice liquors and a bit of variety in beers and even in the local communities there are bars around. Mali is not as strict about it as say Mauritania to the northwest where alcohol is forbidden in the country, or in parts of Niger or Algeria two neighboring countries marked by their radicalization of Islam (al-Quada's presence is growing in these areas). It does mean though that many don't drink, or at least say they don't and that your options for beer in most the country are limited. As a home-brewer, this is brutal. I'm used to the lush landscape of options from all over the US and the amazing selections from Switchback and Harpoon available at pretty much every establishment at home. Here, there are three commercial options readily available: Flag, Castel and Beaufort and needless to say, neither of them compares to a Harpoon IPA or the wonderful Blackbeary Wheat. (You can find Guinness Foreign Extra Stout at several places but its often hard to get, and expensive too). The reality is though you get used to them and they'll do. My experience was about sacrificing a bit to further myself as a person and I can say that I'll never take a pint of Guinness for granted again!

One thing though that you can't really get back home but you can here is locally and traditionally brewed "beers", made from honey, millet or sorghum and fermented in open basins and then consumed for holidays or market days. I had come to believe that there were only certain (non-Muslim) parts of the country that produced this drink and that my village did not, but recently I discovered that they in fact do. Like many Catholics in the US today, many Malians pick and choose what they want to believe in Islam and with local animist traditions prevailing, many practice a hybrid version of the two, where-in they sacrifice a goat for a good harvest and then go to the mosque to pray. It seemed odd at first but after being here for a while, it begins to make sense. There are still times where I am flabbergasted by it (alcohol consumption and eating wild boars still confuse me) but it makes sense nonetheless.

When I asked my villagers about drinking locally made palm wine (bandji and sibiji) or beer (chimichama) they justified it by telling me it didn't have any alcohol in it, despite the ramblings and exhaustion I'd see on their faces several hours later after drinking it all morning. I believe that they truly believe there is no alcohol in the beer, but seeing a vat of it in the works you can tell this isn't the case. It's bubbling and boiling and frothing indicating that something - be it yeast or bacteria - is going to town on it. Knowing a bit about the process I can say that I'm pretty sure what they drink is partially fermented at least, and after trying some I'm certain of it.

Much of the process here is the same as in the States, seeing that beer is made the same way everywhere. Some places have fancy stainless steel brew tanks and million dollar computer systems monitoring the entire process, other places its just a guy and some friends over the kitchen stove, or in the case of my village, a woman over a boiling pot of cracked millet grains. In all the scenarios, the person making the beer must follow the same steps and surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) the end products are very different.

The process begins here with millet, one of the three main crops grown in my village, a grass with a stalk much like a cat's tail and when matured has a full head of little beads attached to a blade of grass. This is grown starting in June/July and harvested in October/November. It's then stored in 50 kilogram plastic sacks until needed. When one wants to make millet beer, they take some of this grain and crack it or crush it in a giant pestle and mortar. Its a lot of work and is one of the places where the process in Africa and that in the US differs. In the States the barley is left to mature under specific conditions to fool it into thinking its necessary to produce the sugars needed for plant growth. Right when the plant is about to germinate the process stops and the grain is packed up and sent off, later to be ground by machine not by manual power like in Mali. This process known as malting is crucial in the development of flavors of beers. This grain - be it barley or millet - is the foundation of what a beer is and the sugars produced in the malting process (or those naturally found in millet) are what is fermented by the intrepid yeasts.

Malians then take this crushed millet and boil it in well water, effectively sterilizing the water and in many ways making the fresh product of millet beer safer than drinking water in the town. Just like ancient Britain or Rome, one would be safer off in Mali consuming freshly made beer, assuming the cup is clean too, than drinking another beverage. I keep saying freshly made beer because much of the utensils used in the production serve multiple functions and are often dirty and contaminated. If one were to drink the boiled mash of millet (I can't understand why you would though) they'd in theory be okay.

This boiled concoction (known as the mash) is then moved from the boiling pot into a container where it will condition and become beer. In the States that container is usually a very large stainless steel vat and this whole process is contained and monitored because it can easily be ruined if the liquid becomes contaminated. Here in Mali though, its a different situation. The boiled liquid is often put in a clay container but could also be placed in a plastic bucket. Neither of these are cleaned thoroughly and certainly not decontaminated with bleach or something similar. Instead, and this is what excites me, they're left to in-fact multiply the bacteria. This isn't done consciously, of course, but is the product of lack of sanitation. What it means is that if these clay jars are used often enough for making beer, they'll develop what is known as a mother culture, or a strain of evolved yeast that brew after brew turns the millet water into something tastier. This is how anthropologists and historians believe the first beers were brewed. Someone noticed that when you put a certain liquid (high enough in sugars) in this open vase, it turned into an alcohol within a couple of days. What they didn't see is that by leaving the vat open, all the wild yeasts floating around landed and had a field day on what they found and that over the continued applications of liquid a good strain of yeast developed that was consistent. Many thought there was a spirit or deity controlling this, but the reality is something much simpler.

After a couple of days sitting and fermenting, this liquid, which can called a form of beer at this point, is transferred to another pot or container and then consumed. It's not filtered, its not hopped, its just boiled, fermented millet water. In the States it'd be filtered and conditioned and would take a couple weeks to get to drinking state. Here you just go for broke. When its good, it is a passable drink, but when its bad its hard to even smell. And thats the thing about it, because this process is up to whomever is making it, there isn't a certain, established recipe that everyone follows, so you can get such varying degrees of taste that its hard to say whether or not, overall, millet beer is enjoyable to drink. This is certainly compounded by the fact that as I write this, I'm enjoying a wonderful Sierra Nevada that was a gift from the States. Millet beer can not compare, and understandably so, but for the brusse, the wilderness, millet beer will do. Its something culturally and socially important, despite the warnings of Islam. It is something that will be around for a while, despite the fact that with modern technology these rural communities become more and more connected to the outside world. Some volunteers live in communities where there is a local bar, with real beer and in these places, millet beer seems to serve the role of 'cheap' drink and although its been relegated to that place, that may mean it'll be around longer. It's not something I'll drink, but for those will, it's there.

All this talk of beer and beer production gets me itching to come home, to try my hand at it all again. I miss it and be sure that I'm spending the next couple months thinking over all of my options. I think I will try my hand at a millet beer, only I'll alter it and try making it something more... palatable.

Here's until then.

I've posted some more photos, this time on Facebook, here. That will hopefully work. I have a new blog entry in the works and I hope to post it by the end of next week. I'm in the city for a couple days to work on my final paperwork. In three to four months my long, sometime difficult but many more times amazing journey will end and I'll be back on Obama soil (Obamadugu). It's been amazing, but its not done yet. Have some big plans (and work too!) for the next couple months.

hope all is well.

gosox.(goflyers)

rl

The New York Times recently featured Mali in their travel section, something we're all a bit excited about. Seems people do know about Mali. Who'd have figured. Although there are a couple small factual errors in this piece, I think it's important to share it with you all. Enjoy:

Dogon Travel Article

rl

Something about the military stop just didn't seem right. Maybe it was the painted 'Halte' sign that was in the road or maybe it was the fact we were pulled over at a corner shop and not at an official post, but something just didn't seem right. We were passing from Banjul, the capital of the small, former-British colony of the Gambia, to Dakar, the capital of Senegal in a small sept-place, a seven passenger seated Peugeot, when we came upon the stop. After working our way through the border towns, Esther and I were able to find this car to take us all the way to Dakar with the promise of it happening hastily. What I've learned in my time here is that West Africans will tell you what they know you want to hear. Most times its not lying, its just that they can't say no. When you ask if the car is leaving soon, they'll answer that yes, it is.

"A bena taa sisan wa? Awo, an be taa sisan! (Is it going now? Yes, we're leaving now!)

Cars are often leaving 'right now' but in fact are hours from going. Our driver told us we'd be quick. What he didn't tell us was that every couple miles there was some form of Senegalese security stopping and checking cars. We had had three or four stops, all similar and routine, before reaching the painted Halte sign. At each one, a large, often humorless West African guy would come up, greet and start rambling in French about our passports and our destinations. Any answer you gave only led to more questions, so we had learned to close off the potential questions by answer all we needed to in one or two questions, even if we hadn't been prompted to. Anticipate where the conversation is going and you get out far faster. One of the things I've learned since being here. After looking at our passports, the police officer or soldier would usher our car on and we'd start up again.

When we came to this post, the painted Halte stop, things were different. The man who came to our car greeted in English and was wearing camouflage clothes and boots like you'd see in an 1980's action flick. Why a man in the middle of French-speaking Senegal would greet in English is beyond me, but he did. And honestly, I didn't think much of it. He asked to see our passes and for all of us to get out of the car. He then directs Esther and I to stand to the side while he searched through the baggage of the other passengers. He also told us not to bother him and not to go in our bags. We obliged and watched the other guards doing what seemed like routine stops of other vehicles. As this happened, I started to notice that the other soldiers weren't wearing the same uniform our guard was. One guy had dark green slacks and another guy was wearing big black boots and a red tee shirt and black pants. It was a ragtag unit at best. Then I noticed that none of the guys had any insignia, nothing to denote that they were actually who they said they were. It all started to come together. And then it hit me that I had no way of getting out of it. I just had to play along, maybe joke around a bit and hope for the best.

Esther was startled awake at the stop, so when she got out of the car she was still in a mid sleep daze. As a result, nothing really registered with her, including the 'officer's' demand to stay out of our bags. She had a sweatshirt wrapped around her waist, which she took off and began to put in the top pocket of her backpack when the guy turned and snapped at her, ' I said that you can't go in your bags, right? Yes, sir. Sorry about that. It was just her sweatshirt. Sorry. What is your name, miss? Sianwa Mounkoro. [he chuckles] Ah, you have an African name. And you sir, what is your name? Chaka Sidibe. [He's laughing at this point] And what is your name? Ah. Well. You have an African name, so I have a white name. My name is Carlos.'

Esther and I look at each other and smile. A corrupt military officer at best, a bandit on the road at least, named Carlos, What are the odds? He kinda chuckled and shrugged us off to turn back to the other passengers in our vehicle. As I watch I start seeing small amounts of Gambian money, dilasi, being passed back and forth. 5d here, 10d there. In all reality, about a dollar at best being bribed out of the passengers. After all the money is exchanged and people start shuffling back towards the car our new friend Carlos turns to me.

' You two are good. You are fine. See you later. Thank you Carlos. I like that name. Are you Madinka (an ethnic group in the Gambia) or are you Wolof (another group who live throughout Senegal and the Gambia)? I am Madinka. What is your last name? (It's a sign of respect to say 'i Sidibe or i Munkoro; i (you) and then someone's last name' ) [He looks at me searching for something in his brain and responds] Santana. My name is Carlos Santana.

That happened in February when I visited the Gambia and Senegal with friends for a two week vacation. It was a nice get away and something that was very much needed, even if I was just transporting from one West African culture to another. We enjoyed the beach and the food and all the joys of development that Dakar had to offer. I've been back in Mali working lately on the tree nursery, though the hot season (110 degrees F!) has stymied any progress for now. Come June though, it'll pick back up again when the rains arrive. I had a birthday last month (25!) and am feeling old. I apparently am at that age where I need a real job. Apparently trekking across Africa doesn't pay school loans. With that being said, I have just about 4 months left in country. I can't believe how quickly the past two years have flown by. We have our close-of-service (COS) conference in June and then new volunteers arrive in July. I am supposed to leave September 11th, but that may change, I'll do my best to keep people informed. Hopefully no new volcano eruptions will disrupt flights out of Mali. As of today, most flights have resumed to Europe from West Africa, but for four or five days there everything was grounded, really delaying and backing up an already inefficient airport system. All in all everything is going well. Making it through. I've started learning German and working on my French to keep me busy. I had hoped to work on a bee project but its looking like I won't get funding in time. Peace Corps rules state that volunteers can't travel out of country, nor open up new paid projects in their final three months. Most funding requests take at least a month from filing to money arriving, so I have my final moments ahead of me to get on it. I hope I do in time, I'd really like to try something with it. I've been working on honey with villagers, but nothing on improved techniques. I could always extend my service for another year. We'll see.

Hope all is well at home. Sorry for the delayed posting. I'll try to be better, I promise. Enjoy the mud and the beautiful spring weather.

gosox. Ryan

Photos, as promised. Happy New Year!

My newest five year old friend, Moussa and.... His brother Madu

Some of the flowers in my compound that popped up this past November.

It's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees. They're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace. I wish I had a river I could skate on. It don't snow here, it stays pretty green....

I just recently wrote an end of the year blog entry intended to wish you all a happy holiday and to give some insight into my next and final year of service. I spent an hour or so writing and editing it and after finishing I was about to post when I came across my most recent post - December 2nd's - and I realized that my new entry was an exact replica. I apparently have very little new things going on. So now I spend the day before the day before Christmas trying to think of what to post, seeing that this will most likely be my final one for 2009.

It has been a pretty fantastic year. Things have flown by and in a moment of reflection I realize that what's happened in the last twelve months has been absolutely amazing and that I've shared only a small fraction of it about here. I'm incredibly grateful for making it through thus far relatively unscathed (my missing toenail and amoebic tag-a-longs aside) and am excited for what 2010 has to bring (which includes, both good and bad, the end of my service). Let's hope the toes can hold through another couple months.I remember sitting in Vermont a year and half ago wondering about what was to come and having no idea what West Africa would throw at me. I would have never guessed all this.

Although there may be no Christmas trees or flashing lights or reindeer on the roofs (a concept that although humorous in the States seems to invoke a sense of both fear and concern as well as disbelief in the minds of Malians) I'm still doing my best to enjoy the holiday season here. It is most definitely the hardest time of year to be away, especially when there are no signs of it around. I do wonder though what ancient Arabians would think of our conceptualized idea of Christmas. I guess it would be the exact reaction I get from Malians.

There are Christians in and around the city I live near, but it's such a small percentage that holiday celebrations don't really razzle dazzle. Also, Americans - and Westerners in general - have developed a new holiday. Some call in materialized, some call it corporate, either term means that it isn't as religious as it once was. Christian Malians have a very strict sense of their faith. Holidays are devoted to their original purpose. Saints are treated as saints and no materialism has really creeped in. No bunnies and eggs on Easter; no trees and lights on Christmas.

2010:

When I think of the new year I can see it all planned out on paper quite easily which is good and bad. It allows me to see what's coming up but if I spend too much time thinking about it all, I'll definitely miss out on what's going on now:

January is full of meetings and projects starting. In February, the plan is to head to Senegal for a softball tournament, an annual Peace Corps West Africa event called W.A.I.S.T., and then to The Gambia to enjoy some English-speaking-ocean-swimming-eating-at-good-restaurant fun. Come April I'll be planning the new volunteers training here, which will start at the end of March until the two-day event has passed. Then close-of-service, a couple day shindig where all the volunteers I came in with meet in the capital, get put up in a nice hotel and learn all about how to get jobs after we finish happens in May. June/July/August and boom, I'll be in the States. Pretty amazing, eh?! I have some project work in between, but all in all, that's what I foresee happening. As always though, I can never underestimate what Mali has in store.

For example, this last weekend I had intended to go to a Sean Paul concert with some friends, something, as you may have guessed, that wasn't entirely up my alley. I arrived in the capital a little late and ended up going to our offices after my friends had headed to the stadium. Unsure of what I was doing for the evening, I hung around for a bit until I overheard that the country director, the head honcho who is in charge of this all, was having a little gathering at his house before a Habib Koite concert at the American Club. Habib is considered the premiere Malian guitarist and musician who mixes traditional West African music with Western blues and soul. Quite a performer to say the least. I was so excited to hear this was happening and very pleasantly surprised. It was a fantastic show - a wonderful performance - and I highly recommend you all check out his music, especially the song 'Wassiye'. This is an example of Mali presenting me with many gifts. We'll call this the holiday miracle.

I have some good photos I've been planning to put up, so whenever I get internet that agrees with me, I'll post them. And maybe a video too, if that works out.

i wish you all happy holidays and a wonderful new year. enjoy the snow, even at its worse. i'd gladly take some in a jar if i could. maple syrup will have to do instead.

alah k'aw sankura numan ye. (Happy New Year!)

rl dit chaka sidibe

Aw ni fetike! Aw ni Decemberu calo!

It has been quite a busy time of the year and we're burning through the final pages of the calendar pretty quickly. I can't believe that in a few short weeks it'll be 2010, and the final seven to ten months of my service!

This last week we had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday in San, even if I didn't get to see the Lions game (though, from what I've heard it's better this way!) Many volunteers have had holiday food sent over all canned and ready to go, so despite being in the middle of West Africa, it was very similar to what I've had in the past. No turkey, guinea fowl (large chickens with delicious meat!) instead, but we did have green beans (the first I've seen fresh in country), apple and pumpkin pies and my favorite, cranberry sauce. Quite a feast for someone who has roughly 1500 calories on a daily basis. Needless to say, I was exhausted afterwards.

A couple days after Thanksgiving was the Muslim holiday of Tabaski (Eid al-Adha) which is the festival of sacrifice that commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice Ishmael and happens every year around this time. This year though, was special. It usually doesn't happen, from what I hear, so close to Thanksgiving. As a result of this year's perfect storm, many volunteers got to celebrate two of the biggest holidays in each culture. We'd fete-d (partied) all day every day for a week.

The week previous to Thanksgiving was the yearly Catholic pilgrimage through Kita and to the nearby 'mountain' where several years earlier (no one seemed to know exactly when, just that it was several years ago) there was a sighting of the Virgin. People come from all over Mali to participate, which makes a usually quiet, unassuming 'city' (I use that word liberally) turn into a bustling community for three days. One friend of mine estimated that there were a thousand people around and I think he's pretty close with that number. It was pretty impressive. Most pilgrims came from the San area (where I had Thanksgiving) because many of them are of the Bobo ethnic group - a traditionally Christian, fiercely proud people who are the only within Mali to have never been enslaved. Although the community itself is small, compared to the Bambara people, from whom the local language I speak comes from, they're tight knit and always send a large delegation to Kita for the event. In Bambara, the term pilgrimage is 'hidji' after the Arabic word hadjj, which is the traditional Islamic pillar to travel to Mecca once in a lifetime. Despite being a Catholic event, the language and people of Mali are so infused with Arab and Islamic culture, one can't escape it.

I also started and, from the looks of it, finished my first large project, a $2,500 dollar garden fence, which means I'm on to my second and third projects, constructing an apiary for beekeeping and honey production and a fruit plantation, which will include everything, in theory, from mangoes and guava trees to banana plants (not quite trees, not quite bushes) and papaya trees. The mangoes take several years to start producing so we'll be working on grafting techniques, whereas the papayas shoot up and within a year are producing edible fruits. I'm not a fan of the latter, but it'll be good for the village if they have some trees they can then eat from or sell the products of.

I'll be back in village for a couple weeks, then back in for, of all things, a Sean Paul concert. I have never really paid attention to him or his music, but when does a western singer come to Mali?! (Almost never is the answer) Then Christmas, New Years and boom we're full swing into 2010! As they say here, wallahi! (Again, another Arabic word!)

Until then. Happy Holidays! Allah k'aw feti diarran ye! Allah k'a here d'aw ma. Allah k'aw here caya. Allah ka sankura here d'aw ma! (May God give you all a good holiday. May God give you all peace. May your peace increase and may you all have a peaceful new year!)

One of the other amazing things I returned to was a house full of bugs. Beetles, mosquitoes, flies and other assorted fun things had all set up shop in my vacancy, which then attracted frogs and toads to join the party. I have since removed the bugs, but the toads still think there is food, so every night I hear one scratching at my door, of if I'm so lucky, jumping around my room trying to find some nourishment. This of course causes anxiety when you're awoken at three in the morning by rustling in your laundry bin or noises of something bumping against your guitar. Luckily they haven't knocked my guitar over, because that would surely send me into a mighty fright. Once I hear them, I have to get up and spend a minute or two chasing them around my hut, hoping that they don't go under my bed, because I will never be able to get them out from under there. If this happens, I through my dustpan/frog catcher on the ground, curse the thing and fall back asleep. I'll be up with the sounds of pounding millet at 5 or 6 anyways, I'll just deal with it then. There is one bug though, if I can classify it in that category, that the toads are vehemently against, and avoid with such a caution and fear, that it has been able to maintain a presence. Technically the thing is an arachnid, but upon looking at it, you think its the wild creation of Tim Burton or some cruel joke. In many ways, it is the most terrifying thing I've seen here. It's official name is a whipscorpion, which is a little deceiving. It does look like it should be related to the scorpion family, with its claws and antennae, but it also is strikingly similar to a giant spider, which it in fact is. The creature comes out at night, and although quick and rather elusive, it is possible to come upon one when say, you're in a daze getting a glass of water after a frog wakes you up. Needless to say, its terrifying. They then scurry off in a flash, far faster than our eyes can capture, and its like a terrible dream you're not sure you've had. They're harmless, according to my villagers, but I don't really want to find out. They scurry off as if they don't really interact with humans, so I'm not too worried about a death-blow to my foot at three but I'm not willing to experiment. I've chatted with a friend in Kenya about these things, and she has seen something similar to them in her house, so I certain its something that exists throughout Africa and I've posted previously about them, citing wikipedia which says they are found in the American southwest. I do have to say that thank goodness they aren't in Vermont. That'd be awful.

Bambara: Senkurulamini (sen-koo-roo-lah-mee-nee) - Whipscorpion

Greetings and Salutations from West Africa! I'm back in internet range for a little bit to work on my fencing project (the funding finally arrived, so work can begin!), and to celebrate All Saints Day, or All Hallows Eve, not sure which yet. More importantly though, I have photos for everyone! I got my camera fixed in the States, and have been going to town making up for everything that I've missed. I have, in a month, taken 300 pictures, with about fifteen of them worth looking at, which I bring to you all. I'll break it up into a couple blog posts, so it makes a little more sense. I was in village for nearly three weeks where I answered several thousand questions about America, and my family and if I was going to stay. I would think going to the States and then returning to my village would have been enough to let them know I'm going to be here for the next year, but apparently I needed to clarify that. I got any questions whether or not America was better than Mali, which is such a difficult question to answer because, of course America has more food and more money, cars and public transportation and no malaria, just for starts, but that doesn't necessarily make it better, because, despite what the UN statistics may say (i.e. Mali is the third poorest country in the world), Mali has a lot to offer. The people are fantastic, the culture is welcoming and not having electricity all the time really isn't that bad. But of course, this means nothing to the casual questioner in my village. America is better. Hands down. Money grows on trees and Barack Obama is really nice to Africans because, of course, he is African. (I've explained that no, in fact he is not, but this means nothing. Blacks in America are just Africans who speak English - and there are 52 states too.) After being there for a while though, my routine came back and within a couple of days I had more than enough time to think about my trip. I was really happy to be home, and am really happy to be back, though the differences have been glaring and that has made it a little more difficult returning. It'll take a bit of time, but I'll be ok. One thing that was difficult to return to was the lack of transportation to my site, in general, but specifically now because of the rainy season. I had planned my trip to avoid the rains as much as possible. The started in late June and gradually picked up each month, with the end of August and September being the worst months for heavy downpours. Nearly everyday it rains, with each storm crashing bigger and louder than the last. My house compound floods and is a mud mess during this time, which attracts flies and mosquitoes that only add to the irritation of it all. With my toe situation, I knew this wouldn't be conducive to my health, so what better time to visit the States! Not to mention September in Vermont is gorgeous. And the cheese and the microbrews and.. and... I returned though anticipating things to be done with, which isn't the case. The rains have slowed, now only once a week, and are much weaker in intensity than they were before, but this doesn't mean they're done. Soon enough the will be, but for now, I still have to bring buckets into my room at night to catch dripping water and put plastic over my bed so the leaks don't soak my sheets. As you may be able to tell, I'm not a fan of the rains. It's a double-edged sword: I don't want it to rain because its uncomfortable and all that, but they are the life-bringing force of my community, in so many ways. The villagers lives depend on a good rainy season to have a good crop that'll bring food, money and a general ease to the family tensions that arise in the hungry months when both these things are in short supply. Children's education, health and well-being depends on a good money from the crop, so they too are hoping for a good season, but the rains also bring malaria, and other parasites that make the kids sick. Its the catch-22 of third world subsistence farming. In an effort to enjoy my last couple rains, I've sat outside and watched them come on from the distance. The roll over the trees and mountains building to become more and more ominous, before unleashing an Oden inspired wrath. One night though, more so then the rest, this event took several hours, and unleashed the most dazzling display on the horizon of lighting crashing and rumbling thunder. To add to it, the moon wasn't out, so there was a complete darkness that added to the spectacle. The blots of lighting occurred so frequently that the sky was always a buzz. I thought, maybe I can photograph this. So I pulled out the camera and the flash and the tripod and set up in my yard taking photos of the action. I ended up taking thirty photos, with four of them worth showing. It's kind of hard to focus on a subject, i.e. the clouds in the distance, when there isn't light to help you do so. And auto-focus: useless. So I bring you these photos, taken from outside my house on the 11th at 9:30.

Bambara: san pere (san pay-ray): lightning bolt

san be ka pere sisan a ka farin de (san bay kah pay-ray sea-san ah kah fah-reen deh) - It's lighting-ing very hard now (literally, the sky is lightining-ing, it is very mean)

"I am in exile, a sojourner A citizen of some other place All I've seen is just a shimmer in a shadowy mirror But I know one day we'll see face to face." In Exile/Thrice

Greetings from the Sahara I've made it back safely after a three week excursion westwards to the States that was as good, if not better, than I expected. I hadn't realized how tired I was, and how difficult my Peace Corps experience has been thus far until I didn't have it around me full time. By the end, I missed that day to day test, though I do have to say that I'll appreciate the 'simpler' life once again. Ha, if only it was that way. While I was home, I tried to be as aware as possible to the current state of the US. I hear all about how things are going but until I arrived, I wasn't quite sure. From listening to the BBC every night, I had the impression that the hell-fire had hit the States and everything was burning. But, to much delight, buildings still stood, banks still worked and low and behold, people still smiled. All that gloom and doom that the BBC speaks of wasn't in sight. Now, granted, things aren't easy these days, I did notice that. My family and friends have all been fortunate and privileged throughout this economic downturn, but that doesn't mean times haven't been challenging or that there haven't been sacrifices. Having not been around the last 15 months (!!), I'm not fully aware of what has happened, but I could see it on people's faces and in their mannerisms. There is a little bit more fiscal miser-ism (I'm going to make up that word for the sake of this entry. I don't speak much English these days, I'm allowed this one) and a bit of weariness. I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing, if anything, it relates to more conservation of materials and a little less driving around town. Two very valuable things. But all in all people are happy and excited, none of my friends were calling for the end of times, or if they were, I was naively unaware. I'll hope for the former, rather then the latter. Just as I was looking for the differences in American life, so too did I look for the blaring differences between my life in Africa and my life in Amerika. I wasn't blown away by the things I expected to. Sure, Wal-Mart is enormous and gaudy and full of useless plastic crap we'll never need but I already knew that and was looking for it, so when I walked through the blue doors and was greeted by the lovely welcoming committee they've established there, I was a bit disappointed. None of the 'staring-at-the-toothbrushes' incidents that I had when I got back from Ireland. Instead, it was more of a 'wow-there-is-way-too-much-stuff' and a 'wow-the-prices-are-inexpensive'. I appreciated the fact that I could buy Pop Tarts for cheap. Yes I did sell my soul at that moment, and yes, I won't shop there when I get back, but for now I feel like a year of Peace Corps service earns me the ability to save a couple bucks on a over-processed, high cholesterol, high sugar breakfast treat. I hadn't had one in years - probably since high school - but man, did I have a craving for them. And they are glorious. It's the little things I miss the most. I think what was most striking to me about my experience home was the ease and comfort that we have in our lives. I was able to drive to Burlington with little to no troubles, to leave at a time that was appropriate for me, and to then spend my time running errands through the Champlain Valley without having to worry about public transportation times. Hell, I had multiple towns I could go to that offered different things. Outside of my banking town, the city of Kita, every village in a fifty mile radius offers the exact same small shop and small kilo package of sugar. No cree-mee machines here, unfortunately. The roads between the towns in America were paved, and even the dirt ones out to friend's houses were raked and even. I could have easily biked them without worrying about potholes that would swallow me whole. Buildings had air-conditioning, even when it wasn't needed, and every tap had clean, delicious drinking water. These are the things I took for granted and the things I noticed when I came home. Really though, this isn't a stark revelation or some great idea I've stumbled upon. Simply watching what little coverage there is of Africa on the nightly news, you'd be able to come to the same conclusions and it's save you the bacterial stomach infections and those little parasites that now inhabit my liver. That I think is what I noticed most about America and Africa: the lack of knowledge and coverage of the Continent in the States and the misrepresentation of the US here in Mali. I didn't learn about Africa, outside of the slavery issue until I was in high school, and then, despite my teachers best efforts, it wasn't very thorough and the entire continent was treated as one country, which it most definitely is not. I gave a couple presentations to a friend's 8th grade class and I left feeling really excited about the prospect of teaching when I get back. Throughout this PC experience, I've realized how important a good education is and how vital a good educator is to the future of a country and being home and seeing my friend in front of the classroom and talking to my mom, I know that they are one of the most important, and under-appreciated, aspects of what makes America the country it is. The Peace Corps was founded on three principles: that volunteers teach the host country nationals about who Americans are, that they teach Americans about their host country nationals and finally that Volunteers work with host country nationals in development and transferring knowledge and skills. These are the things we swear to uphold when we arrived and the things we work towards throughout our service. I feel that I spent my first year getting my grounding in country, learning language and culture and hopefully earning some clout for future projects. I have now returned from home focused and energized for this next year, for the projects and successes (hopefully more than the failures) and the struggles that lay ahead, so that in ten or twelve months when I do return (for good, for now) I'll be able to work on the second principle of Peace Corps. I think every student should learn about Africa - about its struggles and also its successes; about the past and about the future - so that there is a greater connection to the world outside and to a people that aren't so completely different. Imagine.

The camera is fixed, for now (ni Alah soona - if God agrees), so hopefully some new photos soon. I'll keep you updated, but look around All Hallow's Eve, that's when I'll be back in internet range.

And so, as it goes, I must be departing. I'll have more later on my trip home. It was much needed and very relaxing, though it didn't seem like enough time. I was thinking a lot about this tonight, and about how much harder it was this time around to leave. Just didn't have enough maple syrup I guess. I was reminded though of my favorite Peace Corps book thus far, and my favorite quote within it. Love In the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez :

And how long do you think we can keep up this goddamn coming and going?" asks the riverboat captain. Florentino had kept his answer ready for fifty-three years, seven months, and eleven days and nights." "Forever," he said.

----------------

Your New Twin Sized Bed - Death Cab for Cutie

Everyday - Buddy Holly

Wildflowers - Tom Petty

In anticipation for my trip back home this September, I've been working on fixing my camera that broke last March, and although I have no idea what I'm doing, I was able to rig it up to take one photo, and then it fell apart. Since I have not been able to upload anything lately, I leave you with that photo:

Its a young little okra pod (gaanden) just doing its thing:

More to come soon....rl (Sept 5th-25)

So we find ourselves, or rather myself, at the one year mark of my PC service. I remember quite distinctly the feelings of being in Wilder thinking 'Well, 26 months isn't that long." And now that I stand on the cusp of the middle marker I'm still thinking, 'Yeah, its not that long." I'm glad. So, in honor of this moment, I'm gonna steal an idea from a friend and make you all a list. Enjoy

Things I've learned:

- You can spend an entire afternoon watching two lizards fight or a lizard fight another small animal or a bug or just watching a lizard do lizard things

- Malians are always gracious and able to laugh at themselves, and you. Especially when you're biking in the middle of a rainstorm.

- There is always time to drink tea. Or talk about Barack Obama. (Until the rains come. Then there is no time for anything)

- A book and a radio and a water filter. Nothing more is needed.

- On that note, the BBC has wonderful programming and we all really should support of public radio. Except for the Nigerian program, 'Story, Story'. Get that off the air!

- The human body is very, very resiliant. Giardia, amoebic dysentary, ring worm - nothing the body can't work through.

- Music is far too important. TV is not.

That's what I've got for now, hope you're all well. For a glimpse of time, energy and ingenuity can get you, my friend's blog post is http://wollersheimtime.blogspot.com/2009/07/year-marker-pie-chart-is-half-full.html

Cheers.

An ka je, an ka be : We gather, we are. (Djembe: the name of the W.African drum originates from this saying)

So it seems the BBC has caught on to how cool Mali is:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_pictures/8079457.stm

I'm not a fan of this fabric, but I see it around. (And the prices they give are based on foreigners buying it in tourists spots. I'm in the know : ) I can get it much less expensive)

Cheers

the rains have started coming. it was slow at first. a wind here, a drop there. and then, as without prior notice, it began to pour. and then again several days later. i'll be with my host family shelling peanuts to plant in the fields and this light breeze will start up. nothing about it will scream,' you're about to be flooded' but after enough time here, you can hear the gentle whisper. in moments, the clouds roll in and the sky becomes ominous like the four horseman are en route. you never know when the torrent will arrive, but you have to prepare for it whenever. its pretty amazing. it brings both life and the building blocks for crops, gardens and all the life of the area, but it also brings about the destructive power to raze any mud wall, grass hut or small bread oven across the street. it also brings malaria, one of the most difficult aspects of west african life.

the rains also mean i spend more time in my huts, reading or planning for the next season, when i can get work done. my village is so dependant on their crops and their fields, that other work ceases during the rainy season, and thus does all my work. i'm working on seed trials and planning for the dry season. that is life of the PC volunteer during this time of year. this time in my hut brings me in contact with all those bugs and creepy-crawlies i've successfully avoided up to this point. the most feared of these, simply because they are damn ugly, is the whipscorpion. its not a scorpion but not quite a spider and looks like a hybrid of the two. it's harmless and very afraid of my sandals as they hit the wall, so i'm not too afraid. only if they become intelligent enough to organize and attack me in the night. 25 of them could easily get through my mosquito net. but honestly, this isn't aliens.

for your viewing pleasure:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thelyphonida

p.s. my camera is broken, so no new photos until i get a new lens.

gosox.

ryan

Just returned from a wonderful little jaunt southways through the tropics of Ghana and am now preparing for a couple weeks at site getting in some project work before the rains come in June and the chances of getting anyone to do anything outside of planting peanuts. We're planning on putting up a new fancy metal fence around our garden and start working on a tree nursery for the rainy times ahead. Enough about that though. On to the good stuff!

Four friends and I headed overland from Bamako to Ouagadugu, Burkina Faso and then on to Kumasi, Ghana for sunny beaches and easy to follow English instructions. What we found was impossibly difficult Ghanaian accents, several days of rain and very difficult Dutch people. It was great! The change of seasons (from our 100+ degree weather every day to the nice cooling rains of their wet season) was a very welcome factor in our decision to head down now. We had a couple days where the rain was a little much but all in all, it worked out.

We spent a couple days on a beach at our own private resort - well, we were the only ones there, so we'll just say it was ours - and a couple days bouncing around the cities enjoying the fact that they sell ice cream in a bag. After 33 hours on a bus back, we're all safe and sound back in Mali la.

We all noticed just how increasingly developed Ghana was as you headed towards the coast, until we eventually couldn't find any real similarities between Ghana and Mali. They are, in so many ways, years ahead in development and in all honesty, I'm not to sure Mali can get there. Nearly every road was paved and had street lights, street vendors used forks to hand you food instead of their hands, they sold ice cream in a bag. All important things that I'm just not sure Mali can achieve. I hope they do, but who knows what the future holds.

It was a great experience and a nice change from the 'grind' of PC life, but I came to appreciate Mali just a bit more as a result.

Cheers.

I've been thinking a lot lately when I'm sitting at my site, between reading countless books that I should have read in high school (but didn't), about what I should write about it my blog. I think, ' Self, what would you want to know about Malian life if you were in America', and then I take notes. Or rather, photos. And now that I've been able to post some of them, I'm able to introduce you, the reader, into the fantastic life of Peace Corps volunteers...

As can be seen from a previous post my house is made of mud and straw with a mud wall and a papaya tree. The joy of using these materials (other than finding peanut shells in your wall when you're cooking) is that every two years you've got to go back in - in American theory, more on that later - and fix all the holes and cracks and leaks that develop over the monsoon rainy season.

As a result of being a second volunteer, the house I live in was comfortably broken [in]. So, this hot season - when villagers can actually work around the village rather than go to there fields - my entire town, males that is, came to my house to fix it all up new and shiny. Oh, and too, I had a family of mice living in my roof/walls. I, having so much time on my hands, decided to name them. The first, and largest, was named Gerald D. Comupance IV. The rest were named similarly - and accordingly.

So the first step in Mali Home Makeover is to remove all the old straw from the frame of the roof - as can be seen in these two photos. (Up and Below)

This involved a couple guys jumping on my hut - rather climbing up it - and just ripping it all apart. It was actually quite amazing to see because the hut is 12 feet tall and there is this guy tight rope walking up the bamboo shoots and just going to town. Following, everyone gathers around and pulls the frame of (see photo about) and brings it to the ground where they remove termite ridden beams and retie the entire thing up. They then wrap up some more straw on it - nearly four layers - so it gets super large and heavy and then...

Everyone gathers around to lift it back up. These things are massive and incredibly heavy so 25 men have to lift. Wow. So then, when all is said and done, you get these super cool looking huts with nice new yellow straw. And then, the best part really, is that the mouse family previously evicted, moves back in. And then you get Madu and his slingshot to spend sometime on the prowl. The papaya he earned was most definitely worth it. (Or the fact that he took the mouse, cooked it up and ate it. Mmmm)

Its Wednesday, April 8th. I have spent the entire day in Bamako anxious and nervous for the fate of one of the most important sporting events in the history of all sporting events. As of last evening, the baseball season started for the Sox. A win, something I'm happy to hear, but envious not to have seen. But really, the season still has 161 games left - without of course, our run to the championship (again!), I've got plenty of time. But no, this isn't the event of speak of. Nor was it the Husky (WOMEN) winning the championship. Its much bigger, and better than that.

Tomorrow night - Thursday - the Catamounts will hit the ice against the famed Terriers of Boston, the nations numero kelen (one) team in college hockey. This battle of heroics will pit the Hockey East champions against the Davids of the East, my beloved Cats. And with such a momentous occasion, one would expect me sitting in front of a tv with a Harpoon in hand, but no. By the time the game starts, I'll most likely be asleep, only left to dream of the future glory of the Green and Gold. Or begging the Lebanese hotel owners to "just let me check ESPN International one more time... I swear its on"....

But really though. Its such a big event (for the say, 100.000 of us who bear the cold every year in Gutterson or who remember the heartbreaking defeat of 1996) and I do wish I could watch it, but Mali has its own pleasures that its not necessarily an equal trade. I hope to get the replay tape and maybe a championship shirt when we go all the way.

Fingers crossed.

That's about all for now. Just finished building a school. More on that later. And I got a new roof on my huts - photos pending. So, yeah.

110 degree heat and mangoes.

gocats.

Three children from my host family: The first is Lait, my nephew. He's my favorite and the other day he spoke - for the first time I had heard - and he said "Chaka" or more like 'chada' - my Malian name. I was so happy. The second child is Kaliawa, or Howa - she has a little attitude but is still one of my favorite people in village (even if she's only 4 years old) - "Chaka, n taa. N taa" (Ryan, pick me up) Finally, there is Djenne, or Djeneba, the daughter of one of my host fathers, Madu. The previous volunteer nicknamed her 'Mama's little butterball' - She's pretty spoiled but I love her anyways.

My adorable neighbor Dante Sangare - who I think is two years old. Honestly not too sure. My host nephew... I guess that's the relation... named Lait - just walking around town, alone.

This is my dugutigi (head of the village), Bollon. At first I didn't really understand him but now that I've been in village a bit I really enjoy talking with him. Neither of us can understand him so I have to have someone translate my American Bambara into something he understands and vice versa. He has a mighty sized goiter on his neck that provide hours of wonderment.

This is my best friend in village, Madu Diakite. He's about five years old (no one knows their real age) and serves as a fantastic guard against mice and toads that bother my garden.

Me and my host father at the construction site of our new school. He is name is Kologaye Cissoko.

So I've finally come to an internet place where I can post some (wonderful) photos. There are some posted here for your convenience and more posted on Facebook (for my convenience) - I have forty-ish to post, so for the next couple days I'll be posted as well as giving an update on how things are going here. Stay tuned.

This is where I live. Well, before they changed the roofs (who knew straw would leak?). Notice the sprawling papaya (manajin) tree. If only I enjoyed them. I also have a new wall out from that is a couple feet taller which protects my (hopefully flourishing) garden.

I've now been living in country for six and a half months and finally am able to start projects. Because of this, I've been in Bamako (le capital) for the a couple weeks doing technical training and brushing up on language (with tutors who can speak English - how fantastic!) It's going well, but I'm definitely ready to get back to site. I found, quite quickly, that I love being away and in my village. I most certainly will have days when I'm exhausted from cultural or language problems, or where all I want is a cold soda but all in all, I prefer the simplicity and unity that site offers. It very quickly has become my home, and I try my hardest to let my villagers - and most importantly, my host family - know this.

I left for Christmas and spent it in Manantali, a large village just north (i.e. four hours on a backwoods dirt road with twenty five Malians in the back of a old van) where I met some friends. We cooked up some good food and were surprised Christmas morning to have monkeys playing in the trees over my tent. A very pleasant suprise.

I can't really think of any crazy stories, but I do have some photos to load and, as always, I'm trying to find time - and internet - to do so. I will keep you updated.

The majority of volunteers in Bamako spent inauguration night at the America Club, where they had a little party planned. It was a pretty amazing time - just the rejuvenation in the room after Obama was sworn in was fantastic. One of my best Mali moments. I of course would have loved to be in America for the moment, but for Africa, I couldn't have asked for more.

I'm starting to plan out my two years here and what projects will be coming up. Seeing that the last six months have flown by, I feel the need to start prepping, for fear it'll pass by. My counterpart (the villager who I work closely with, and who helps negotiate me through the cultural and linguistic differences), Massan Sidibe (we're of the same cow-herding, Fulani family) and I are planning several projects - the first being a bee keeping project, followed by tree grafting (mangoes - yay!) and a new biofuels project using the oil of a local (but not indigenous) bush called jatropha. We may be working with a Dutch company on developing a trial field. More on that later.

Hope all is well.

Go Catamount hockey! (#7 in the nation!)

ryan

Here we are, one beautiful month later and although it feels like little has changed, so much has. We had a fantastic halloween party here and it was great to see some friends that, because of region and living in these rural sites, I havent seen in a while. And following, we had the WONDERFUL AMAZING election. Needless to say, I'm happy. And to know Vermont voted 67 percent of Mr. Barack makes me so happy and proud. Everyone here, Malians and Americans alike, are proud and happy of what has happened. Everyone with a radio comes up to me and says "OBAMA, OBAMA!" and we get into a brief conversation about how great he is. There are signs everywhere for him (Obama '08) and I saw the other day that a kid had crossed out a street sign and wrote Rue Obama (Obama Road) instead. I smiled and then cursed myself for not having a camera. Also to, I saw a car with a print out that read "Vermonters for Obama" - I nearly fainted from excitement. I highly doubt they were from Vermont, but I'll count them has honorary just for the effort. There is a real excitement here and so many people seem to have a new flame pushing them. A friend of mine just left for Kenya, and am incredibly envious of what that means. All the Kenyas I talk to are incredibly proud to count Obama as their own, so imagine an entire country of that! I'm sure when she learns Swahili, people will love to chat about him. Hell, they will even if she doesn't - if its anything like here. People love to talk and you listen even if you don't know the language. : )

With that being said, nothing else, really, is new. Still at site; still loving it. My village just finished the corn (caba in bambara) harvest and is working on millet (gno) and peanuts (tiga) right now. There are TONS of peanuts, and I've developed a nice callus on my finger from eating so many (the shells on newly picked ones are really tough to break). Soon it'll be time for gardening (we started ours) and that means some good veggies, which will be a very nice change of pace. Corn only goes so far before you're sick of it. I have plans for a big garden with lots of stuff (nakofenw - (na ko fen) - veggies (lit. garden stuff)

We haven't seen rain in a couple of weeks and are getting ready for the dry/cold season (77 degrees farenheit is really cold here!) which is when most people work on gardens. In February/March we'll enter the hot season (about the time mangoes come into play) and then rainy season after that. Needless to say: No snow. No changing leaves. And certainly no maple syrup. Sad.

Happy and healthy.

Hope you're all well.

Ryan.

(Chakajon Sidibe)

12.10.08

I've found lately that I spend a bit of my time at site doing things that at home wouldn't take up my entire day, but here are a week long event. For example, dinner preparation; I'm always in my kitchen plugging away at something to eat. Everything is fresh (or in paste and canned form) so much of the the time cooking is spent getting veggies from their natural state to something I'm able to cook with. This means I'm making homemade tomato sauce for pasta rather than opening a jar and I'm picking herbs and drying them to use in cooking rather than shaking them from a container. I now have a lot of respect for microwave burritos and know that within the first hours of being back in the States, I'll require one. Also too, laundry takes forever here to prepare. No electricty means no machines which means by hands in a bucket. I'm able to stretch my laundry powder a bit far (and Malian women think its too far) but if its a big load, you're going back and forth between your house and the well to pull water to wash with. And I've got sheets or towels to wash you won't see me for a week. I'm tied up the entire time. This means that I then stretch the use of these as long as possible so not to wash them.

Luckily though as a volunteer, you have a bunch of free time to do these things. As a newbie, I'm technically not allowed to start projects that'll require funding until December which translates into not doing as many projects in the first couple months which thus means lots of free time. Time to read (and take on all those hundreds of books that I wanted to read in college but was too busy with 'required reading' to touch) is something I really enjoy. And studying the language - which means sitting around drinking tea with the villagers trying to decipher their accents as well as studying from a book - is a major priority. I realize how important now my success here depends on my comprehension of the language. If I'm successful, it's as a result of my fluency. I'm still learning Bambara - the most spoken native language - and now the language teachers are pushing for me to learn Malinke, a language of the local people in my area. I'll be taking on both - they're a bit similar - and hope to come out better as a result but who knows.

I also have a bunch of time to listen to the radio, which is such a comfort. No one speaks in English around me, so I get my fix by yelling at the radio and as of late, there has been a lot to yell about. Apparently the world economy has been hurting, McCain has chosen a kook as a VP candidate and South Africa is having a lot of political issues. I also found on Sunday afternoons the BBC runs a literature program that really makes my week. I'm such a lit nerd that I really enjoy listening to whats coming up in new literature. As I begin to ponder what it means to be a volunteer and a development worker, the more I realize I belong in the classroom. I enjoy it here and find it to be a great experience - thus far, and hopefully to continue - but I'm certain I'll go the teaching route afterwords. Starting in January I'm going to start studying for the GREs so I can apply to grad programs when I get back in 2010. It seems so far away, but I know the time will fly by.

I've been a bit absent lately because I'm trying to spend as much time at site as possible getting to know the villagers and the organizations I'll be working with. Lately I'm working on starting my garden and helping out the Shea Association in my village. Mali is within the Shea belt, a group of countries that have the perfect conditions to grow shea trees, which produce the butter which is used in cosmetic products in the States. Our project is to work with these organizations and help improve their business by empowering them and their product. We improve the quality of their product and then contact buyers in the city and push for better prices. Currently, per kilo, the price is tun tun (ten, but with the confusing monetary system here, 50 francs) which is at least three times to low a price. We really push for 150F a kilo - about 33 cents - and know we'll get it, eventually. Currently, there is a lot of product on the market,so the prices are really low. Supply and demand at its finest. I've been reading up on basic economics to better understand the situation - a little Weath of Nations just for fun too. I'm telling you all, being a volunteer means lots of time to read. I could easily read the required reading list for a graduate degree while serving. Who knows, maybe I'll go for my MBA afterwords (I doubt it.)

That's about all I got for now. It's harvest so eating lots of corn. Soon, the garden will be up and I'll have more to say next time around. (Which may be around Halloween, may be around Thanksgiving.) Also, my village will be building a new school starting Nov. 5th which will be fantastic to watch unfold. The volunteer who lived in village before me was really fantastic and worked really hard at preparing this project. I hope to put up photos soon of this process as it progresses. Who knows how fast that'll happen, but I'll have my camera there to document.

gosox.

ryan

Today is the big day! Within a couple of hours, I will be sworn in at the US Embassy here in Bamako as a PC volunteer! It's exciting and coming at the perfect time. Training was the perfect length (ours was two months long, while most trainings are three. I don't know how others do it) and I'm glad it is over. I'm ready to start doing something, even if that is just my garden.

Things here have been going well. It's been busy in the PC/Africa sense which means lots of time to play cards. This last week we've been at the training site working through our final sessions, taking language tests and getting our final medical stuff. I've got some fun stories that I hope to post up later, ani photota.

k'an ben sooni.

rl

Back in TBso for a couple of days before heading back to homestay for my final 20 straight! In a matter of a month or so, I'll be a full fledged Peace Corps volunteer! It's pretty crazy because the last couple weeks have flown by. The days are long but the weeks go by so fast. I just spent a week visiting my home for the next two years and in a matter of days, I was back here. Everyone there is fantastic and really excited to have another volunteer. They threw a mini celebration for my arrival with singing and dancing and lots of smiles and goodness. I gave the chief cola nuts (a local custom) and all the elders were munching on them the entire day. They were definitely satiated. They offered to slaughter animals in my honor, but we explained I was a veggie. This opened up the floor for so many questions.

So Ryan is a veggie and doesn't eat meat. Does everyone understand?

WHAT?!We hear what you're saying, but why?

I then attempted to explain why.

Ok, so you don't eat meat, but do you eat beef?No, I don't eat beef. Beef is a meat.

Do you eat chicken?No, chicken is a meat.I don't eat anything with a soul.

Do you eat corn?Yes, I eat corn. Corn doesn't have a soul.

Ah. Ok, we get it.

We'll see if they do. I'll be cooking for myself most of the time, so I'm not too worried. One of the joys of being an agricultural volunteer is that I'll have access to super amazing fruits and veggies many times of the year. Or at least more so than other volunteers and much more free. I've come to understand I'll be eating a lot of peanuts (tiga) or peanut butter (tiga dege) so I can get me some protein.

Things are well. Moving super fast. Before I know it, I'll be starting my mango tree farm. Yay. Today we went on a killer hike in the mountains to one of the most spectacular waterfalls I've been to since Hawai'i. We took an amazing swim and embraced the fact that we were no longer sweating. We're always sweating. I have photos (and am waiting on friends to get me their's) and'll post in 20 days when I have internet again. After a 20 at homestay, I'll spend a couple more here at TBso and then head to site for realsies. There I won't have internet access as often as I'd like. When I can post, I will and can hopefully respond to e-mails though that may mean two weeks before I respond. And again, photos whenever possible. It's hard to post 'em, but I'll do my best. I'm not really doing much else these days. : )

How goes it Stateside?Hope you're all well.

Things to know about Mali:

There are so many bootlegged t-shirts from the U.S. as well as everything left over from Goodwill.

Everyone seems to love 50 Cent and Tupac, though no one has heard their music.

Small children are deathly afraid of me. I can't do anything about this.

Mangoes are more delicious late at night when the mango flies are sleeping.

I've had St. Elmo's Fire's theme song stuck in my head, even though I don't know the words. [Other than the title, of course - if you have an mp3 of this song, please send it my way : ) ]

Mail is fantastic to receive. The Gods truely are crazy.

CheersR

Current playlist:

Big White Gate - Grace PotterHard Sun - Eddie Vedder (Into the Wild Sdtk)Shed A Little Light - Foy VanceSweet Little Lies - Michael Franti & SpearheadGet By - Talib KweliBallad of Benjamin Darling Pt. I - State Radio

RIP Chef

P.S. - My new village gave me a puppy. I need a sweet name for it.And I have fleas - unrelated to my puppy, but most likely related to another dog.

First photographs:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2106938&I=40134&id=6901493

i hope it workscopy and paste the link

Mailing address: 

Ryan Leamy, PCTCorps de la PaixBP 85Bamako, MaliWest Africa

Make sure you write West Africa. Other wise, the post office will send it to Bali. I don't live near there. They don't get this.

So I just found out my actual site and home for the next two years! I'll be in a village in the Kayes region of Mali. My nearest big town in Kita - which I'm still a ways from. I may actually be closer to Guinea than I am to my regional capital! I'll transport by bike and let y'all know.

I'm super pumped. I knew last week that this is where I'd be going because I met the volunteer I'm taking over for. She is super motivated so they'll be some big shoes to fill. [Great non-sequitur, don't you think?] I've begun thinking a lot about projects that I'd be interested in doing and once I assess the local needs and meet with the farmers, I hope things will align. We just learned about grafting trees and I'm hoping to start a little papaya farm for myself as well as grafting some oranges for myself. We learned today that to grow oranges in Mali, one must first grow a local variety of lime - one used to the soil and able to grow effectively - and then graft an orange tree limb to it. In theory - and hopefully by my practice - I can get valencias, clementines AND nectarines from the same lime base. So cool.

I'd also really like to start a mushroom farm and hope the woman I'm taking over for has planted some serious mango-age around. I'm in love with them and during the season, will need my serious fix. It's tough having access to these amazing fruits. I guess I make up for it by using a hole in the ground for a bathroom.

I'm heading back to site tomorrow (30.07) where I'll spend a week with my family (again, who I love so much) before returning back here to Turbani So (the training center for the PC - it means 'House of the Doves' in Bambara. Get why?)  After a couple of days here I'll head out to my site and visit for a week. After which, back to homestay for a bit longer. I officially swear in 12.09.2008 and will be an official Peace Corps guru then. It's crazy how quickly that comes up. Mali's program is accelerated, so my three months of training are shortened to two and then I'm thrown into the wild. Well, close to that.

Chat in a week 

Aw ni ce!

For a bit.I've been spending the last two weeks living with a host family while i take classes in the local language. it's coming along as expected, though i'm certainly frustrated that i can't hold a full conversation without resorting to broken french. i've decided that after this experience i won't be able to speak any french, instead it'll be a mixed bag of bambara and french (or frambara as we call it) it'll be like :  j'ai faim, nous diminike a quelle heure? a, je comprende, mais, il fait chaud et n segana. je desire dormir apres nous mangeons. ca va? owo. n'ba.

(i'm hungry, at what i time do we/will we eat? i understand, by it is hot out and i'm tired. i want to sleep after we eat. good? good. - n'ba translates literally to "my mother" but means many different things)

so a bit of french and a bit of bambara. soon i hope all bambara. 

couple of quick things:

- there is one baby in my house who cries every time he sees me. yesterday he peed on me (its a sign of good luck and that i'll meet my perfect spouse soon. i'm not ready for that.

-i've got some super cool friends.

- my name is chaka samake in mali. my host family named me. the first name is after the father of my family. samake is there last name and i think it means male elephant. i could be wrong.

- i have some great photos i'm working on putting up. soon.

hope you're all wellryan

Well, not really. When we first arrived it was, but today (and I'm assuming many days coming up) it's rainy.

It's been a week since I left the Green Mountains and I have definitely gone to the other side of the world. It's green, but not nearly the same. The dirt is red - and with the rain or the wind seems to get all over everything. I'm glad I didn't bring anything white because when I look around and see those who did, all I can think is how obnoxious it'll be to wash shirts by hand and NEVER be able to get the red out of them. At least with black I can pretend. 

We started our first language classes today and I can understand both why its so important for us to learn it as well as why its one of the biggest challenges. Bambara has some similarities to French and is something I can pick up, but I know it'll be as tough as biking up Camel's Hump!

Because I'm in training, much of my day is spent in sessions (how to treat diarrhea, brief on our jobs, cross-cultural training, etc.) but our evenings are usually free(er). Played my first game of soccer tonight with the other PCV's. I'm pretty sure I'll be on the Malian team pretty soon. 

Our electricity has officially cut out, so that'll be it for now.

Three things:1. You learn VERY quickly how to use a squat toilet effectively.

2. Malian wind is as crazy as Mt. Washington wind.

3. Malians cook everything with meat. It makes being a veggie very tough.

cheers

It's been just over a week now since I received my invitation and it's been quite a week as a result. I called last Friday to accept my posting and now am working on all of the paperwork and organizing needed to get myself ready for July. One of these organizational 'tasks' is this blog. With an expected loss of internet access when I arrive in Africa,  I won't have the ability to write and respond to e-mail as much as I would like so having a site where I can post seems essential. I hope to write a couple times a month but who knows what'll happen. A common theme to this entire experience. 

In the giant blue velcroed folder the Peace Corps sent me I received this:

Your Assignment:  MaliProgram: Agriculture

Job Title: Agricultural Extension Agent, Community Development Agent

Dates of Service:  July 10th, 2008 - September 12th, 2010Orientation Dates:  July 7-9, 2008Pre-Service Training (in Mali): July 10, 2008 - September 12, 2008

Other than a few facts here and there and an attempt to learn both French and Bambara (the native language of much of the Malian population), this is all I can know for sure.