Today I have been reading David Sedaris, a hilariously good short stories writer. If you haven't read anything by him you either, haven't heard of him before, or don't enjoy laughing. As with most times that I read I am inspired to write similarly to that which I had been reading. I almost completely filled my journal with the description of the corn stalks in Mali after finishing John Steinbeck's “East of Eden”. And as I would love to think of myself as extremely hilarious, I have discovered however, that I am just very good at knowing what my family and close friends find funny. This tends to get me in trouble when I assume everyone has this same sense of humor at say, a dinner party of fellow volunteers and our Country Director (my boss' boss). At any rate, in a house where I usually have electricity and cable and screaming children to keep me entertained, I found myself bored enough to go to my emergency stash of reading. I am currently out of books to read and, because Sedaris is both hilarious and in short story form, I have been trying to savor the book by only reading a short story here and there with breakfast or before my afternoon nap. So today I gorged, I blame it on the rain. The rainy season has started and I am loving it. Except of course my clothes not drying all the way, the humidity wringing the sweat out of me like I'm a sponge, water dripping through the adobe tiles onto my face at night, being woken up by claps of thunder that feel like they will bring down the house and only having slightly reliable electricity for about 5 hours a day. But, hey, at least it's cool until about 8 am so I can get my morning run in. Today the rain started mid afternoon and I was ready for the power to go out but just as it seemed safe, I sat back to enjoyed an old episode of “The Big Bang Theory” only to have my host grandma busted in and tell me to unplug the TV immediately. Although it seemed like just another irrational nicaraguan-ism to me, like not eating limes when you are sick or not showering when you are warm to prevent getting a cold, apparently a house just down the street was struck by lightening because of the TV being plugged in and shattered all of the tiles of the roof. Because I could see the evidence around the corner and really it wasn't my house to gamble I complied and sat out to enjoy the storm rolling in. The quiet crescendo of drops and rolling thunder however were overcome by the unnecessarily loud evangelical church next store. Apparently they weren't worried about shattering tiles, with or without lightening. I am generally pretty tolerant of religion, even when it is almost pushed upon you with their outward, in the community practices but I really don't understand the need to broadcast bad singing and electric key boards. Although God may appreciate them in their own house of worship, a electric sound system that engulfs the whole neighborhood is quite unnecessary. Especially when it is at 4 in the morning, five days in a row, for two hours at a time. I asked my host family what holiday or event could possibly necessitate a 4 am church service for almost a week. When I was answered that there was none, they just wanted to pray to god, I retorted with, “Well don't they think that God can hear them during the day? I mean he is God after all.” Seeing as though the power wasn't going to conveniently go out so I could enjoy the weather, I retreated to my room, put in my much appreciated ear plugs and gorged on my bit size nuggets of laughter. Happy Rainy season everyone.

Despite what my friends and family might think, doing a third year has been harder than I thought it would be. I didn't realize how much longer it would feel. In addition to starting all over the experience has only been made more difficult when I see other fellow volunteers from Mali moving on with their lives back in the US. My friend from Mali, currently living in New York, came down to visit, and we had an excellent time. But when she left, it just reminded me how much I miss those friends I had made and how out of place I felt in my new environment. I was starting to have serious doubts as to if I had made a mistake in coming here. My work seemed as crusty as the dried up Nicaraguan earth at the end of the dry season. I had unexpectedly hit a 6 month slump. Slumps are tricky things. They are hard to spot, hard to avoid and, even once they have been identified, hard to fix. The business volunteers had yet another in service training planned and I was not looking forward to it. In the end however the training, and the return of the rain, are what I think ultimately pulled me out of my slump. I felt as refreshed as the returned green leaves on the trees lining my drive back to my town. I was able to look at my next 6 months and make goals and project ideas that I was excited about. It makes the remaining time seem more manageable. When I started to look at the list of things I want to do, the 6 months seem almost too short again. Life no longer seems stagnant and dusty, but busy and exciting. And as I looked out the window of the bus on my ride home with the volcano as the background I was reminded how full of energy I had been when I first arrived.

My house is full of 2-5 year olds who are always bipolar with their emotions, as those of that age tend to be. Crying fits suddenly burst into smiles, a party could end in screams of exasperation. During one of these flash flood of emotions I was reminded that as an adult I am in charge of how I feel about things, so I better start feeling happier or the next few months are going to be miserable. I had a meeting in Managua, 10 am to 1 pm. After a short amount of sleep the night before, the 3 hour meeting, and the rushed 6 hour trip back to my town, exhausted I was greeted by a quiet town, because the power was out again, and food my host family had saved for me from lunch. I eagerly ate my dinner and with a full belly went to bed happy. It was good to be home, and I for the first time I truly realized I will miss them when I have to go back to the US.

There are tons of things that happen every week that I look around for someone else to find what is going on as ridiculous as I do, and then realize I'm all alone in that assessment and end up laughing to myself. Like the one time I saw a skinny man who spoke no English wearing a shirt that said, “I (heart sign) my curves”. Generally when this happens I think of you guys and make a mental note to tell you next time we talk, but of course my memory isn't what it use to be. I blame the malaria meds. Instead we talk about gossip and family and how I'm going to the beach again on a break from work. Well lucky for you I went to a anniversary of a high school with a note pad and this blog in mind. Apparently Nicaraguans find every possible reason to have a party. It's like being in college again, but less functional. Instead of having a super hero pub crawl just because it's a random Tuesday in January and we haven't gone out in awhile, it's a annual rodeo weekend that takes a week to prepare for, which of course means no school or work. At least the end of the pub crawl ended with us crawling to the library to print out a paper for Monday morning. This week's distraction was a high school anniversary in a neighboring town. We already had the one for our town a couple of weeks ago so I knew what to expect, lots of kids, no classes, fried food and, of course, a beauty contest. Really I can't think of a better way to say “Happy Birthday” to a high school than to parade awkward adolescences in front of all of their classmates in little skirts and judge them. And apparently neither can Nicaraguans. Actually a beauty contest seems to be the preferred activity for every event. I've already been to 4 and I've only been here for 6 months. Usually the contestants are 13-16 years old, skinny and really good at popping their hips to accent their cat walk. The pageants also usually invite the old winners to do a dance. Trying to get all the time out of these girls that they can. Today's event started with such group of girls doing a dance with short shorts, belly showing tops and a cowboy hat. Generally I would think this is awkward enough, but one of the girls was slightly heavier than the rest. I'm not trying to discriminate against fat people, but I know I wouldn't want to be in that outfit, well, ever. I couldn't stop staring at that one unlucky girl. And her belly kept winking back at me. It was like those jean commercials where the belly buttons are singing “I'm coming out”, only less singable. I broke my stare to look around and, per usual, no one thought it was weird. I had myself a chuckle and looked forward as the actual contestants came out. The pageant went on like all the rest, traditional outfit, “sports wear” which is pretty much just a sports bra and jean shorts, “fantasy” where the girls get to make their own dresses and at last the evening gowns at 11am. I didn't stay to see who won because the noon bus came and I was more interested in getting back for lunch. And that was my “work” for the day. Bonding with my co-teachers and learning a little more about the Nicaraguan psyche.

So the week did not have a stellar start. The business adventure that I had embarked on with the women's group was not successful on Monday. They didn't sell all of their cupcakes and, from my observations, didn't really try that hard. As a result they had to pay for most of them themselves. Wednesday's class was out of control and the kids didn't seem to care about the material. They were shocked when I took away the notes they were passing and the photo album they had their noses in. Worst of all the teacher didn't seem to care either. On top of it all, my teacher canceled the class for next Monday because she's "sick" again. I keep trying to tell her, she's not sick, she's pregnant and they're called appointments, because you can schedule them, like for when you don't have class to teach.... Wooo sah, wooo sah. So I decided as a way to keep myself from spontaneously combusting, I would cancel English Club on Thursday afternoon and just take a moment to catch up on my reading. Just as I was easing into my hammock 6 little girls showed up at my house. "Carolina, are we having class today?" I told them no and thought they would just run a long, but they were persistent. I figured since I usually complain about not having enough work, I should take advantage of work when it is knocking on my door, or in this case surrounding my hammock. I changed out of my soccer shorts and headed to the school. Since I wasn't planning on having class that day, I didn't have anything planned, but I could tell these girls were pretty much starting from square one. We pronounced "Hello How are you?" and "My name is..." for about 20 minutes. When I could tell they were as done with that practice as I was we started with another topic, body parts. I asked one girl to draw a picture of a person on the board and then labeled the important parts. I could already tell their minds were saturated with "Hello, how are you?" so we ended the day with a fun song, the "Hokey Pokey". They put their left foots in, their left foots out, and really got into it when they shook it all about. I'm pretty sure they didn't memorize all of the body parts there and then, but then I also realized that wasn't the point. They did the hokey pokey and that's what it was all about. I know, I know really cheesy, but it really turned my week around. I can't make kids memorize all the common parts of the body in 5 minutes, or 5 hours, but I am helping in a little way and maybe not even in ways I can see now. And now friends and family that is what my life in Nicaragua is all about.

Sorry for the lack of witty commentary, but I promise to have a wonderfully witty blog up shortly.

Back in Nicaragua. It was a little harder to leave the US this time. Not only was my little sister telling me how awesome it would be if I just lived in San Francisco, and it would be, but I also had a crippling pain in my back which made traveling for 9 hours seem that much more daunting. Luckily I was able to sleep most of the way. I even got to practice my Spanish with a lady, sure to get lost in the Houston airport without me she told me, on her way home to Nicaragua. It was nice to chat for a little while, but as soon as I got back on the plane I was fast asleep again. I arrived safe and sound in Managua ready for a smooth transition back to my site, but my pain didn't go away so easily. After a few tests it was concluded that I had a UTI, but just to be safe I stayed an extra day to get an ultrasound of my kidney too. I was told by the doctor that I should drink plenty of water so it would be easier to see my organs, including my bladder. So with a full bladder I went to the doctor, only to have him push the ultrasound wand into my bladder making me have to pee. As I'm holding it in, he asks me to describe my illness to him in Spanish. At this point I had spent 3 days in Managua watching cable TV in English. The most Spanish I had used was in the Houston airport, but even at that he said my Spanish was good. I think he was just being nice, hoping I wouldn't pee all over his floor. While his assistant was typing up the report to be sent back to the Peace Corps, he explained to me that everything looked fine. Then he went on to tell me that I should get a hat, a large hat. My skin is very delicate, he told me, and the sun is clearly damaging it, he could see from the redness in it. I didn't really know how to respond. How does this have to do with my kidney? And how can you even see in the lighting of the ultrasound room? And more importantly, don't you know I hate hats?! Hate them, on me, on other people, in movies flying away inciting a romantic dash to retrieve it. Good riddance I say, let the hat fly free! So I got a hat. But I was determined not to spend money on a hat, so I just found on in the Peace Corps office. Of course it was the windiest day in the history of Managua and my hat flew off as soon as I left the building, but no romantic ran after it, just me, looking like an idiot who wears a hat on a windy day. I carried the hat all the way back to my site, only to leave it on the bus on accident. Maybe it was fate, but now I was committed to making this hat thing work. So finally I did the unthinkable, I bought a hat. I bargained the lady down to a dollar thinking she'd never go for it, and before I knew it she was shoving it on my head and taking my money. So now I have a new look, a new hat, and hopefully less skin cancer. Happy new hat!

This weekend wasn't great. I missed the bus to the city on Saturday which means I still don't have a phone. Staying at home, I was pretty bored and realized I haven't really made friends in the community yet. We did go to the river which was fun, but I got sunburnt even though I put sunscreen on. I watched way too much TV, in English and in Spanish. The only upside was that I didn't feel too bad about not getting anything accomplished work wise because it was the weekend. But after that nothingness of a weekend, I had a mini break through tonight with my host family. On Sunday night for whatever reason, my host family decided to ask me all those questions you usually ask when first meeting someone. We talked about my family, my education, plane ticket prices, future plans and, my favorite topic, Africa. I answered all their questions easily about myself and family. When we got to talking about Africa, I told them as much as I could and then, when my vocabulary started to fail me, I shared videos and pictures. All gathered around my computer to see videos of Dante dancing and the women making shea butter. It was great to share this with them, something unique to me, which is some what of a challenge being the 4th volunteer here. There's the first volunteer, the one that is getting married to a Nicaraguan, the one that's already here and now the one that's been to Africa. The best part about the whole evening was the switch from formal to informal, something not as recognizable in English. They started using “vos” (what they use instead of “ch”) tense with me and dropped the “usted”, a sign of closeness. This was something easily adapted by the teenagers in and out of my classes, but until now had been reserved by my host family. With the intensity of the rapid fire questions and the excitement of African photos, I didn't even realize the “vos” until after we were done talking and I was on my way to bed. Did they just?....Yes they did I'm in the “vos”!

My role as good weather fairy continues as I bring sunshine to Nicaragua. I was informed on our way to the capital from the airport that Nicaragua had enjoyed record breaking rainfall every day in the previous week. I prepared myself for the worst. On the news my host mom and I watched the floods that affected communities across Nicaragua due to the rain. In spite of this, I have yet to see rain during the day. It rained a few times at about 4am, but that was it. It's been beautiful and sunny everyday! But I heard it was a little rainy in the capital, but I didn't see any when I went in last Monday. I've been told that the region I'm going to is suppose to be the hottest in the country, but we'll see. It can't be worse than Mali right? Come to think of it, everything here must be an improvement right? I observed a class today that another volunteer was co-teaching. Afterwards we talked about the challenges and he's experience so far in his town. “So you have teachers that care about teaching? And they don't hit the kids here? And all of the kids have notebooks and pen? And they don't have to pay for school?” Other than large class sizes, I don't see a problem here. They could improve their class management a little maybe... I guess my standards are a little low. We'll see how long that lasts too. I'm sure my optimism will be dampened, just like the weather can't stay beautiful forever, or maybe it can... I'll work on it.

Also I have a phone finally. Let me know if you want the number.

And even though I am really loving it here so far, I do still miss you guys! I think about you guys a lot.

Wait you guys have paved streets here....?So how different is Nicaragua from Mali? Well other than being on different continents, they already seem figuratively oceans apart. Let me give you a comparison as an example. My third night with my Malian host family during training consisted mostly of my host mom miming everything from “You want food?” to “Do you want to throw water on yourself out of a bucket?” I remember singing “Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur” to the kids because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I couldn’t wait to get back to the other PCVs and speak English. The night ended with me lying in my mud hut thinking, “What did I get myself into this time?” At the end of all that, I ended up loving my time there.

And then there’s Nicaragua. On my third night, in Nicaragua, my host mom took me to hang out with her friends. This is where my Spanish was really tested. I justified a beer with the fact that it would improve my Spanish, which it did of course. So instead of trying to act out shower in mime, my widowed host mom and I joked about her getting a “gringo” boyfriend, me trying to translate Kenny G and then trying to explain in Spanish why I wanted to do a third year in Nicaragua. When asked, I found that I had already forgetten how to say amigo in Bambara. As it is only my third night I think I’m off to a good start. I can already see myself staying longer…. Sorry mom.

So as many of you know, I am going to Nicaragua at the end of the week. I know that I was slacking a little as I was leaving Mali, but with all new experiences should come newly enthused blog posts! My visit to Ameriki (last time I will use that I promise) was made amazing by many friends and family. I earned a few free beers and much needed shopping trips. It was like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into 3 weeks, minus Mindy's wedding which was just like a family reunion on the beach. Anyway... thank you all for your continued support and enthusiasm. I promise to stay safe and keep in touch.

Stay tuned for more.... but until then enjoy these facts on Nicaragua, now you know as much as I do!

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

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/nu.html

http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_985.html

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/country_profiles/1225218.stm

This last week was our “Close of Service” Conference. I went into it with little expectations apart from all of my training group and then some (about 60 PCVs) getting together and staying a a hotel; AC good food, a pool. In the beginning it felt like an over exaggerated high school graduation party complete with drinking by the pool and listening to old favorites. By the third day I realized that's what it really was. We were all just over grown adolescence unsure of our futures. The speaker and organizer of the conference started us off just like any speaker should with enthusiasm and random stories. She promised to make sure we knew by the end of the conference how valuable our service really has been not only to Malians but also to our own future. She was going to pump us up and make us even more self center than we could ever imagine, that is of course if we didn't make fun of her ice breaker games... Half way through the conference we started to make some head way on resumes and what to do with our futures and what paper work we have to do before we leave (one of the beauties of working with the US government). I was feeling pretty good about my resume and my future in general, as one of a few that has a solid plan for next year, and then we heard the career panel. The guests on the panel were obviously living abroad in Mali, and as RPCV (return peace corps volunteers) had chosen to work in development, all but one who was an international school teacher. I'm not sure if I want to live abroad or even do development work, but they all, including the school teacher, made it clear that it is near impossible without a graduate degree in something, anything really, and that made me reevaluate my position on furthering my education. Not now of course, but now the “definitely not” has turned into a “maybe”. I still want to have a better idea of what I want to do first.

As the days turned into hours I was in denial about my two best friends, Hunter and Rabayah, leaving. They both chose to leave early for different reasons, Hunter a Peace Corps extension in China starting now and Rabayah grad school. Although I, and most of my other friends, don't leave the country for another two months we were force to realize what the ultimate outcome of the conference was, the end of our time here in Mali. Of course Hunter was busy trying to finish all the last minute paper works and goodbyes, leaving the best for last, so it seemed so abrupt, rushed. The Peace Corps driver came 30 minutes early to take him to the airport, the only time something ever happens early in Mali. Because he was leaving from the hotel of our conference there was a large number of people there to see him off, but only a few of us were actually crying. And before we knew it our big white hunter was gone. Rabayah left not a week later. By then, most people had gone back to their sites so the group was smaller, but still the best of the best. More crying... Like high school graduation or even college, I know that the most important friends that I have made here will keep in touch but it's going to be harder since most of us are internationally minded. I am very excited to see my family and friends back home, and I know I am ready to leave Mali but I guess I wasn't ready to be sad about leaving, and maybe that's good. Maybe that will urge me to return, urge me to make even more of a difference somewhere else.

And now I go back to my site reluctantly. I don't feel refreshed or re energized to finish up my service. I feel more unsure and out of control of my last 2 months. I have seen two other services end and it's only 2 short months until I too will leave and that is a struggle not to dwell on, to not be overwhelmed by. But maybe Mali will surprise me again.

Every new beginning come from some other beginnings end, or at least that's how the song goes.

So with my busy months head of me, I decided to flee the heat and meet Mindy in Paris. It was a much needed vacation (my last out of the country was September 09) and I took a lot of wonderful pictures. They can be found on facebook with the following link:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?aid=2057001&id=17700453

Now it's back to the mangoes and hopefully our building will be done soon.

Although there are a lot of drawbacks to not having internet or even electricity for that matter, there is one thing that I have come to really enjoy, the BBC on the radio. Every night at 8 they have "News Hour" and I frequently listen to it. Most of the time it's British soccer matches, something about the middle east and something about the EU or UN. Most of these things will not directly affect my daily life, but serve as topics of discussions to make me feel just a little more smart and worldly. Last night, however, was heavily weighted on African happenings. 3 of the 7 countries that border Mali were in the international news for political unrest. Niger, the latest to join West Africa's list of politically unstable countries was taken over by a coupe de taut. They took the president, who recently changed the constitution so he could stay in power longer, hostage and took over the national radio station to announce the take over. The African Union has temporarily suspended Niger's membership. A UN commission has just declared that the coup that over threw the government last year in Guinea committed crimes against humanity. And in the Ivory Coast, police shot people who were protesting/rioting in the capital. Now only 2 of the 7 countries are Peace Corps friendly, 3 politically unstable, 2 that don't give visas to US citizens and volunteers are prohibited from going to 3 of the northern regions of Mali. Don't worry I still feel safe. It would be as if I lived in Reno (a stretch of the imagination I know), and there were riots in Phoenix, crimes against humanity in SF, Oregon is still friendly, but the government in Salt Lake City was over thrown and Wyoming and Montana are controlled by rebel groups that kidnap white westerners for ransom and they are slowly taking over Ely and Eureka, but New Mexico it ok. The geography isn't a perfect comparison, but it's close. But don't worry, the Peace Corps would make all of us leave if anything remotely dangerous happened.

The new group of Peace Corps Volunteers had just had their in service training, which I tried to help as little as possible. Before I knew it, it was the holiday season. I wasn't constantly bombarded by peppermint mochas or Frank Sinatra that usher in Christmas starting after Halloween, so I had to work really hard to get myself into the holiday spirit. I started by taking a long trip to meet up with some of my favorite people in Mali. I took Peace Corps transport from Bamako to Mopti. Other than the ac not found in public transportation, this turned out to be not as convenient as I thought it would. The Peace Corps bus was actually slower than the Malian bus due to the unnecessarily long stops and the frequent detours. But after all of this I arrived at Rabayah's house in time for a late dinner made by Dave and his sister. The next morning we went up to Dogon Country which is completely different than the rest of Mali. After speaking and getting use to knowing the local language in and around my village, it was strange to have to depend on my limited French as the Dogon don't speak Bamabara. Christmas day we had dinner at a small campement with our group of 10 and 2 PCVs from other countries traveling in West Africa. It is amazing how just being fellow volunteers instantly builds comradary. The next few days we spent hiking through the Dogon villages. Even though I had done a hike similar to this before, it was still breathtakingly beautiful. When I imagined living in Africa, this is what I had pictured. Afterwards we made our way back to Bamako for New Years. We opted out of the Lebanese sponsored booze-fest and instead had a nice BBQ at Hunter's. We rang in the new year with Malians, music and meat. After the New Years, work started to pick up and it seems like the last 3 months have flown by. We receive the first wave of funding for the Shea Production Center, but of course it has taken us 2 months to actually start building. Village politics prevented us from building on the land that was previously given to the women from both the mayor and the chief of the village, but after many village meetings and endless waiting, we broke ground! Currently we have foundation rocks and gravel but are waiting on cement. They have dug out the perimeter of the buildings and the surrounding wall and it is all starting to take shape. My homologue is more than excited. As I expected she is being very professional and motivated in all of this. I still trust her more than anyone else in Mali. I do feel like this is more her project than mine, which ultimately is the goal of a Peace Corps Volunteer. While all of this was going on, Hunter and I did our own project. In the mid January we held a “Take Our Daughters to Work” camp. We had 16 girls and 4 chaperons from surrounding villages come to the regional capital. They participated in various team building activities, did a work shadow, went to a technical school and went to the zoo in Bamako. Although it was a huge group effort, I was stressed out the entire week. Even now I am shocked that it all went so well. When all was said and done, I put together a packet to help volunteers in other regions hold their own camp. From that I know of at least 6 other camps being held around Mali. Hot season is in full swing. I'm taking 2 showers a day, maybe should be 3. I'm now biking to and from my homologue's house instead of walking 15 minutes in the the hot sun. Last week it was up to at least 106 degrees everyday and the chilly morning was down to 77 (thank you grandma for the outside thermometer). My favorite part of the week is when I buy ice at the market and make an iced chai and hide from the kids in my hut. Although hot season seems terrible, it brings good things too. I now sleep outside with my host family which make me feel more apart of the family. Although the grandma wakes us all up at 1 am to go sleep inside. Apparently the "bad things", robbers, spirits, donkeys, are only out between 1 am and the call to prayer from the mosque, 5am. And before I know it, we will be practically swimming in mangoes! I will be able to buy a pile of freshly picked 8 mangoes for the equivalent of 50 cents, and that's considered pricey. I will be making plenty of mango jam and dried mangoes that will hopefully make back to the US this time. But most importantly for us stir crazy volunteers, hot season justifies a trip to the coast. This year, after everything has settled, I will be going to Ghana, Inshallah! March is going to be action packed with the International shea conference and at least 2 other “Bring Our Daughters to Work” camps. Then there's easter, another training, and before I know it, it's my birthday, cinco de mayo, and then the Ghanian beaches and the best sushi in west africa! I just have to make it through 2 months of ever increasing heat...

I know it's the end of February and I am just now posting Christmas pictures, but better late than never right?

For Christmas we went to the Dogon region of Mali . We did a hike to see the villages in the cliffs! Enjoy

So here is the biggest project I will do for my whole service. If you would like to donate please do! Here is a link to the website describing the project and how to contribute.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=688-317

Thank you!!

I am doing a lot of work now! We finally got moving on building a production center for the women. It is going to be a huge project, but I really believe the women in my village will be able to make it all come together. I have turned in a proposal for funding which will be on a website for people in the states to donate to. I am asking for a total of $6330. I will post the link to the site when I get it. It will explain the project a little more eloquently and explain how to donate.

I am also working with my friend Emily to make mango drying tables so that when we do mango drying training it will be more successful.

The last project is another big one, "Take Our Daughter's to Work" day. The basic idea behind it is to bring girls from the village to bigger cities to be paired with a professional women for a day. We will also have life skills workshops and trips to local higher level education facilities. Hunter and I are going to first plan and implement this for Kati, a large town, and Bamako, the capital. Then we will make a template for the rest of the regions in Mali so other volunteers can do them in their regional capitals as well.

So I am definitely keeping busy with proposals, meetings and planning!

Of course I'm also having fun too. In a couple of weeks I will be meeting up with other volunteers to celebrate Halloween and visit the most northern part of Mali that safety and security of the Peace Corps will let me.

Here are some pictures I took recently.

This first one is with my coworker's family during their ramadan celebration.

The boys were practicing their karate moves for the camera.

This my best friends daughter, ma, that used to be petrified of me and now she's one of my favorites.

The girls and I took a hike to the hill, mostly just to take pictures. We're doing donkey ears, not bunny ears by the way.

The rainy season makes for some awesome cloud formations.

These are my host family's kids, they're happy I swear.

And the new baby that was born a month before Seth so I think of Seth everytime I play with the littlest prince.

This is Ma again, she now loves the camera. Here she's eating peanuts and hanging out.

This girl works at my coworker's house and is a really good friend. She about 5'8" and look how tall the grass is in the rainy season!

Just some normal images from Mali, they're drying out the matress because it's really humid.

I'm coming home!! Well for 2 weeks anyway. For all of you that I will be unable to see while I'm there, I'm sorry! But feel free to write me an email and I'll call you from where ever I am. For those of you I will see, there are a few Malian habits I have acquired which will be hard for me to shake in my limited time in Ameriki. And, that my friends, is an example of the first, Mali-yfing words and phrases. Other weird habits include, but are not limited to, the following:

Using only my right hand for everything from shaking (normal in the US) to almost dropping everything to switch money to my right hand to give to a merchant (not normal in the US)

Eating with my hands and generally lacking table manners

Making very childish jokes about bodily functions (Farts, burps, that's what she said jokes)

Eating in small portions

Cringing at wasted food

Littering

Being a bad dancer (only because I've been in Africa, I swear)

Not wearing makeup or looking at myself in mirrors

Going to bed at 9pm (hard to stay up late without lights)

Getting sick from eating dairy products or meat

Saying "Uh-huh" every 3rd word (how else would you know I'm still listening?)

Forgetting words in English

Avoiding eye contact during conversation

Holding hands for longer than is comfortable or culturally appropriate

Miss matching clothes, or just having bad fashion tastes in general

Also I'm sure I'm going to be pretty awkward in general. I'm really excited to see you all, but try not to make fun of me too much! I will try not to be too weird, promise.

I took a much needed and long over due trip to the Hawaii of west Africa, Cape Verde. Unfortunately the rains had not started yet so it was not in fact a green cape, but beautiful none the less. We took a couple of hikes and laid by the ocean a lot. We also went to, count it, one historical landmark. It was a concentration camp during WW2. That's the picture of the yellow building with red flowers. Enjoy!

My host mom gave birth today. I was struck with the same thought I always have when seeing newborns (more often now than ever before), "That was just inside you yesterday!" He was not as small as I expected and definitely not as cute, but marked the beginning of trouble for my two younger host sisters. Although they were excited about something new and different from the daily small town routine, they failed to see how their already attention deprived world will be vacuumed by this little bundle of boy. Being the only son thus far as well as the youngest, he is sure to steal the show. If he is successful in encouraging the host dad to stay home more he, the baby, will be showered with attention from not only the formally absent father, but also a grateful mother. I may just be seeing stereotypes, but so far my host family has yet to disappoint. My host mom gave birth sometime after lunch, the hottest part of the day. Although in the US it is called the ultimate "labor" to give birth, it is seen as something less here. As I said in Bambara, "Good work, you must be tired" the youngest daughter, already affected by her culture, spurted out, "Why? She didn't do any work today. She didn't even cook lunch!" And she's only 5. The father made an appearance long after dinner, long enough to see the baby and take the TV power source to play one of his 4 music tapes on full blast. This made me think of my own possible future child bearing days to come(way future mom, don't freak out). In an ideal world the father would be the love of my life, but even not in an ideal world I would want the father to be there for the whole thing. To cry with me, laugh with me, awe with me and fall asleep with the thing that was just inside of me yesterday. This also led to discussions about population control and the end of the world with my fellow volunteers, but we'll leave that from some drunken ramble later. Right now I am pro baby, and excited to see my new nephew when I go back to the good 'ol US of A.

It's been months since my last blog and there are many events that are worthy of their own entry with all the intricate details. Had I been a good little blogger I would have written them earlier on one of my hand full of times in the capital. I would have written about my nearly flawless first big training I planned in my village, or rather the training they planned themselves. I would have explained how my smaller training's in the surrounding villages have been, for better or for worse, completed. I could have described the unluckiness that took over my birthday, or my Cinco de Mayo celebration by the Niger river with mango salsa. And mango season! Who knew there were 10 different types of mangoes to be eaten with every type of food? I could have moaned about my failed attempts to plan a trip. Turns out it's hard to get a plane ticket with a company with only one plane and about to go bankrupt. Really I could have told one of dozens of anitodical stories that happen at least 5 times a week, a large spider, a sand storm, an untimely flat tire. Some of these have been shared with family, friends, other volunteers and even some Malians in my broken Bambara. But for now know that I am happy and healthy, apart from some heat rash, and am living in Africa. A fact I sometimes rediscover when Malians are completely unaware of the ocean and a continent that separates my home and culture from theirs and how it's not possible to just take a bus back. At the end of the day sometimes I feel useless and frustrated but I have to remind myself that I felt that sometimes in the US too, but here the good days are fantastic. The stars are brighter when you can't watch TV and soda taste better when you only drink it once a month, but running water would be nice.

This is my little host sister with her new backpack. She loves getting her picture taken

GIANT spider, with a scale for mom.

Emily has no fear of spiders apparently. Don't worry I killed it after I took the picture.

We had International Women's Day on Sunday. It basically consisted of the women having their own parade, wear all the same fabric and then a big party all day. Unfortunately the whole thing was directed by men, not women, but we'll let that slide this year.

As we marched down the main street we sang a song a clapped in rhythm.

And then we danced.

I got my hair braided, left it for a couple of days and then took it out, this is the result.

This is a little hike I went on early one morning.

And this is why I get mad props in my village now. "Oh yeah Massaba went all the way to the woods to collect firewood, and then carried it on her head!" Yes, yes I did.

I had just had a big fight with another volunteer and wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially those I can't actually communicate with. I locked myself in my room and would have been perfectly happy to sleep away the morning, but for some reason the Malians thought this wasn't healthy. As I was awaken from a deep sleep at 11 am, I cursed my new found friend making skills. Things were so much easier when no one really knew me, no one really expected me to leave my house! I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, threw on whatever was hanging next to me and walked to my friend's house to have tea and stare at each other, again. I was surprised by her humor and energy. It was impossible to be in a bad mood. We made tea and I lost track of time. Before I knew it I was rushing off to my homologue's to try to get some work done. And to think I wanted to just mope in my house all day! Malian hospitality is easy to be welcomed by. Most is not expected to be paid back either. Last week my worst fears were realized. When taking public transportation in Mali, you don't pay until you are almost at your destination, making it difficult to run back or ask your friend that you are leaving for money if you, for example, forget your purse. Of course the Malians found it hard to believe that the only white foreigner on the bus didn't have any money. I was in the process of trying to ask a friend in a passing bus at the station for some money by yelling, "Wari bana, my money's out" when someone paid for me. The guy didn't tell me his name and got off at the next stop. Thanks Mali, I owe you one.

Other Malian hospitalities are harder to get use to. My homologue feeds me lunch and dinner everyday I am in my village and I feel the need to pay her back. She refuses to let me give her money and the gifts I bring back after going to the capital seem too small and culturally required even if she wasn't feeding me. I was told that just getting a lot of rice is a good gesture as most meals are rice based. That failed. Her husband, instead of thanking me, joked that I must be really hungry and that's why I brought all the rice. I brought back wood that I gathered with one of the other women in the village, but that too was met with, "Massaba, why would you bring us wood? Look at all the wood we have!" Strike 3. I was about to give up and resign myself to feeling like a burden when the Peace Corps came up with the universal global currency, Obama. They had fabric made with Obama's face printed on it and the phase, "Yes we can!" on it and it was for sale at the office. When I gave my homologue enough fabric to make a "complete" outfit she did an Obama dance. As I was leaving after lunch her husband was saying goodbye and, almost as an afterthought, said, "Oh Massaba, thanks for the fabric, it looks really nice." Yes! Finally I got the pat on the back that I was so desperately looking for. Of course then my homologue bought me an entire outfit for the women's day holiday. Homologue one million, Massaba 2.

There were a lot of things working in my favor this Thursday. It had just rained, I had just had my hair braided, she had just celebrated her second birthday. Ma is my friend's daughter and among many other things, is deathly afraid of me. Our first few meetings she screamed and shook in terror. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty good with kids, even in Africa, but she apparently thinks I look different from all the Africans... weird. After going to my friend's house everyday for about 3 weeks now, she still refuses to be left alone with me even for the shortest amount of time, let alone sit next to me. Everyday around 5 I walk from my friend's house across the village to my homologue's house and back to say hi and get my dinner, and everyday Ma's mom jokes that she should go with me, each time responded with a firm, "No" with an underlining "I don't think so". But today, on her birthday, she said yes. It was too quiet for me to hear and I didn't take my friend seriously, but when Ma held my hand without crying I didn't want to ruin my chance. It had all the insecurities of a first date. I showed her around my part of town, everyone commented on my new "friend", of course I did most of the talking as my palms started to sweat. I didn't want anything to upset her so I tried to avoid most things that wouldn't normally bother me but today seemed deadly, an over excited dog, hassling children, the crazy old lady. When we got to my homologue's house I wanted Ma to make a good impression on them. She's so damn cute! But of course she was too afraid to say anything. I knew when my homologues said, "Maybe next time don't bring her, she's about to cry," that maybe this was too much for a first date. On the way back things started to look up. The sunset was fantastic beyond the mango trees and rain clouds. Ma held my hand tighter and even took the lead for a little bit. When we finally got back to her house I was trying to think of where our next "date" would be as the fear spell seemed to have been broken, but just then as I asked her to sit by me, I heard the familiar wined up and the overly surpressed bawl. Damn it, But it went so well! "It's ok," I tried to tell her, "I get that a lot." So I guess she's not ready, maybe she won't ever be ready, but we'll always have that first date, our stroll through the mango grove.

So here are the pictures from our Christmas at Dave's site. We roasted a pig!!! It was delicious and a little culturally inappropriate, but there were enough Christians in his village that we didn't feel too bad. I promise to actually take the time this week to write something meaningful, but until then.... Here you go!

We all took our "head shots"

Here's the Fam! From left to right we have Hunter, Dave, Chris, me, Amber, Emily and Lindsey

We roasted the pig on a spit and turned it in shifts.

So we did a bike tour, right before Thanksgiving. These are a bit old but still good. Again I didn't take the pictures, my friend Dan did, but I was definately was there!

Also the internet was going really slowly so this is all I had time to put up.

We were greet by the first village with a celebration. The dancers are dressed up as various animals. The red mask is a gorilla.

A of course Dave felt the need to climb a tree....

My friend Mako and myself dressed up for the holiday

The holiday festivities, killing a lamb. This is to remember how Abraham was told to sacrifice his son and god gave him a lamb at the last minute instead.

My counterpart's family, visiting for the holiday

My little sisters that act like Laura and me, Laura you're on the right.

A ridiculous amount of watermelons

As I was mopping to the rhythm of "No Woman, No Cry" my assistant to the the store manager bustles into the back room grumbling, "I hate Bob Marley!" and before I can even start humming, the song on the Starbucks radio is changed. How could anyone hate Bob? I thought it was just because this lady was clearly jaded, but when I left for Africa two months later I had the same sour taste for Marley in my mouth. It's funny how association can completely ruin a song, or in this case, an artist. If I hear the soothing Jamacan beats I am overwhelmed with a sense that I'm forgetting to do something and I shouldn't be sitting around! I can't listen to Buffalo Soldier without the erge to restock the milk fridge in preparation for the next rush of customers. Even now in Mali where electricity is scarce, let alone fridges and jugs of milk, I am still filled with that sense of panic. While going through my daily task of sweeping out my hut I started humming along with the music playing outside, "One love, one life, let's get together and be all right..." Oh no did I remember to turn over the pastry case? I drop my broom and rush outside. "Hey Masaba, do you like Bob Marley?" English songs here are as scarce as ice cubes so I couldn't exactly say no to the comforting sense of familarity. Before I knew it I was translating the unifying lyrics into Bambara, "Umm it's an animal like a cow, but bigger, and a person that fights with the military. No the person isn't the animal, but yeah in the middle of Ameriki. And the rest you know, Whoah whoah whoah." Beggers can't be choosers and I am surprised to find what I can tolerate and even like when given little resources. Why yes I do like watermelon, and all melons for that matter. Yes I would like another piece of that lamb stomach and is that a noodle or intestines? Why fresh whole milk is delicious even if I can possibly get TB from it! No, no I would like more oil with my macaroni please and more carbs, do you have any bread, that's awesome. I wouldn't have described myself as a picky eater before, but being here takes that to a completely different level. I won't even start with the 3 second rule. I am picky if I don't really want to eat the nose fat of the goat, but then again I think I'm ok with being classified as picky if those are the peramiters. I will still try it once, but I may not finish a whole plate of it. And as a general rule of thumb, if it's found in the states, it's probably better tasting here than it ever will be, and if it's not, well then it's a great story for later. Bottoms up!

These are all wonderful pictures of various times, copywrite Hunter Gray:

Me and Rabayah in the cab in Bamako.

Me and my personal chef, aka Dave at my site.

Hunter's hike with his family

The view of the valley

The local mascot

From top left to right, Holly, Dave, Emily (front), Amanda, Me

The "Gang" Emily, Dan, Amanda, Holly, Me, my photographer Hunter, Jamie, and Chris front and center

My local transportation. I have to take the van on the left first and then the truck on the right when actually in Bamako. Totally safe I promise, or at least so far it has been!

Ne be say. This is the phrase that I learned the fastest and since learning it I have used it more than once a day. It means "I can". This is because although Malians are incredible nice and helpful, they are convinced I can't do anything. I thought that with my first family it was just because they knew I was in training, but now that I have spent two months in the village I will be living in for two years (yeah place your bets now, if I remember correctly Arzhange already lost?), I now know that it is just the view the Malians have of me. They're number one, and frankly only, argument is that things are different in Mali that in the US. When I go to wash my own dishes I am met with a laughing 8 year old, "Oh Masaba, i te say, in Ameriki you have machines that wash that wash the dishes right?" Well yes, but that doesn't mean..... "Oh Masaba you can't wash your clothes, isn't there a machine for that too?," Yes but if you would just teach... "Oh Masaba you can't sweep, in Ameriki they have long handles on the brooms," That doesn't make me lazy just smarter, "Oh Masaba you definitely can't cook. In Ameriki you use, what, gas and electric stove tops?" How do you know... "Oh Masaba you can't speak Bamabara," but I just had a conversation with you and explained how to do factors and about prime numbers!!! If you notice all, but the last accusation, are gender specific. When my friend who is the son of the Iron Chef 2005 comes over, clearly I'm going to let him cook me garlic sauteed eggplant without putting up a fight. "Oh Masaba, you really shouldn't let the men cook." I saw this as an excellent opportunity to have a cross cultural exchange and defended myself with, "Oh but in Ameriki men cook just as much as women!" "Well Masaba, you're in Mali now, not Ameriki." Too true host grandma, too true. I would be fine with all this negative feedback if they would only help me when I want to learn. My clothes washing lesson started with me washing five shirts. That trial run earned me the role of the official clothes hanger. It's just as complicated as it sounds, I take the clothes to the clothes line and well, hang them. Yes you're right the 8 year's job. I cooked them curry chicken from scratch, which was FANTASTIC by the way, but as Malians aren't very adventurous with food, I don't think they liked it much. I have been promoted from the guava eater to the sweet potato peeler during dinner preparation. There are a few other things that the Malians will let me do, like pull water from the well and, after I insisted, I now carry 20 liters of water on my head 200 yards from the pump to my house once a week for my drinking water. This constant feed back has led me to need to remind myself what I am good at. No I can't wash my dishes well, but I can debug a computer. No I can't get my skirts completely clean, but I can tell you what the use of the invisible hand does on your national economy. No I can't cook the millet mash you call "toe" but I can make chocolate flan. No I'm not fluent after being here for five months but I can read and write in my native language. Because French is the official language, all children learn how to read and write in French. As a result, of the few that are literate even fewer know how to read and write Bamabara*. This makes it interesting when you are, for instance, having a meeting about taxes conducted completely in Bamabara, but the agenda and notes from the meeting are all written in French. Even after all of this, I'm not deterred, I'm determined. I will sweep my house everyday, I will learn how to make onion sauce better than anyone, I will learn how to get a hibiscus stain out of my "complet", and when I do, I will tell you how I did it in Bamabara and French, and then tell you all about the failing economy. Or at least I think I can.

*They are trying to change this in the school system right now. I also went to a mass today that was conducted mostly in Bambara. The French and Italian priests speak both French and Bambara and have taught those in the church how to read and write in Bambara. I also was excited to find a bible and a hymnal written in Bambara.

If a 60 year old African women with the ability to make a grown man cry with just the shake of her finger asks you who you are voting for in the only US presidential election she has ever heard of in her life, how do you answer? For me it was an easy and enthusiastic response and I didn't think twice. It wasn't until the boys of Dombila responded when asked who Barack Obama is by saying, "Oh I know him, he's the president of Ameriki!" that I started to realize the impact this election will have on the entire world. Their response came more than 2 weeks before many people even voted. As election day came closer the volunteers in Mali migrated to the capital. By the time I arrived with "the crew" we met up with a surprising amount of other volunteers. The energy was not unlike that of Christmas eve without all the watered down carols. The results wouldn't be announced until at least 5 am but that was not even acknowledged as an issue. We set up camp at the one of the hotels and watched as states lit up one by one. Red, Red, Red, Blue!! Red..... I was nervous, if nothing else just to avoid jinxing it. Slowly we became more confident, more emotional, more excited. When Obama was elected there was a small cheer, larger from those at the bar, and a huge sigh of relief. It didn't actually sink in until the victory speech. We sat silent, attentive, eating up every word he said. Even though it was the wee hours of the morning and none of us had naps, there wasn't a pair of heavy eyelids in the room. Granted this a group of highly motivated young people out to change the world living in Mali but, when Obama finished speaking, we couldn't sit still with excitement. This election is more than a response to the frustrations of a nation, more than just a reminder of what the youth of the nation can do when motivated, for us on the other side of the world, it is a symbol to those we are preaching change to, that we too can take a step to change the world starting with our own country. It is a symbol to the world that we still do care what they think and that we still value soft power. When I go back to my site tomorrow and greet my wiry neighbor I can shake her hand and laugh with her when we cheer "Barack-o" "Bama!" He will not single handedly fix the economy, he will not solve the conflicts in Iraq, he will however forever change the image of the United States of America in the eyes of the international community. Let's hope it doesn't stop there but rather, the American people continue to be inspired to invoke change to better the world around them. Again that is coming from motivated young woman out to change the world dooni dooni (little by little).

So for all of you planners in my family, aka everyone, here's a list of ideas for Christmas presents. I really am not expecting anything. It's just that some have asked for one and I keep forgetting also if you want it to be here by Christmas it should be sent now-ish. Love you all!

Crystal Light and other powder beverages

Clif Bars Clif Bars Clif Bars

Just add water and/or milk and/or oil foods

Earrings

Nice black pens

Books (Fitzgerald, Hemingway, funny books, classics)

TV on DVD (the office, arrested development, ect.)

Stationary

For the parents that want to know what I'm living in. Other than this I am flossing everyday and putting on sunscreen at least twice a day. Moms be proud.

This is where I rest my head.

Where I go to remember what my favorite people look like.

My entry way/parlor

My room with a view

My humble abode

Have you ever been asked to fly a plane? Imagine this scenario if you will. You have been playing the nintendo Top Gun game, the only one I remember having as a kid, and you've mastered all of the first level but the landing, the only part of the game I remember. You then, during a trip in a plane, are extremely curious to see how a plane looks like in real life. The pilot is excited to show a youngster such as yourself his "office", pre 9/11 of course, and chats with you about someday being a pilot. As you are only 12 years old anything is possible and you start to entertain the idea of someday being a pilot. Just as you are imagining your first day of flight training, the pilot starts the engine and takes off. You are surprised you aren't rushed back to your seat but decide not to ruin a good opportunity. The copilot gets up and says the view is better from his seat and he is going to get a drink so you rush over and enjoy the view. While day dreaming about a snow ball fight with the clouds you the pilot says to you, in all seriousness, "Can you take over? I might be awhile but you know how to land right?" And without waiting for a response disappears. Wait what? Me? But I can't get passed level one at home.... oh crap!!!

That basically has been my last 2 weeks. Oddly enough two of my friends have had similar experiences. The first 3 months at site we are suppose to be surveying the lay of the land. At most planning out projects to start after our January training. As a small enterprise development volunteer (affeciationally called a SEDie), the most "business" I am to do is a fesiblity study in my last month at site. My health volunteer friend last week was watching her homologue give a presentation on the importance of giving birth at the doctor's office rather than their house when all of a sudden the Malian got up and motioned for Emily to continue. Emily did her best but was completely lost on what to say and how to say it in Bambara. My other friend, Hunter, is working with the education system in Mali and has already been asked on the fly to teach 2 classes, one in ninth grade science and one in English. Not only has Hunter never taught before all in French, he also has never taught before in English. I'm happy to say he did superbly considering. After both of these stories I felt a little less bothered by being made to give a speech without notice durning my women's shea butter meeting. I did have a few things written down luckily and did better than I would have thought. I was suppose to address all of the women in the surrounding villages at the next meeting so I thought my homologue was better at preparing me than my friends' homologues. That was until today, Saturday, market day, my day "off", the day when no one works....... except for of course random meetings you are uninformed about. As Emily and I were getting ready to leave to do our weekly shopping my homologue informs me that 2 men have come from the capital and that I have to meet them. No big deal I'll just buy a few things, run back and shake some hands, have lunch and call it a day. Before even getting to the market we run into the "big wigs" and I have to go back for the meeting. Emily continued on with the thought that I would catch up with her in 30 minutes or so. We started talking about an organic certification process that will start in January and ended with the need to make this village the center for shea butter production for the surrounding villages. After a 2 hour long meeting in a mix of Bambara, French and a small amount of English I am asked to write up a business plan for the shea butter co-opportive including wages for the women making the butter and packaging designs for the shea butter in the next two weeks before our next meeting. Wait what? Where did the training wheels fly off to? I can barely speak to the women, much less help them decide how much to be paid! Needless to say I will not be going to the waterfalls next weekend. I hope my economics and business classes will come in handy now. I feel completely unprepared and unqualified for this, but as I hear from Mindy this is how the real business world works. It's a good thing I recently came to the conclusion I work best under pressure. The "fassen your seat belt" sign has been illuminated, please prepare yourself for landing.

It seems to be either one thing or another that happens here in Mali to make things not go quite the way you want them to go. Traveling or studying or even just talking to people on the phone from Ameriki. Take talking on the phone for example, at the training site I had all the time and power and phone credit I could use, but spotty reception. At my homestay I had perfect reception but no power. Last week I had everything but time. Just when I thought I had it all figured out for my site, I was going to buy extra phone credit and be frugal with my battery, my phone fell out of my pocket in the taxi on the way home. Well crap. I can't just stop by the nearest Target and pick one up either. Of course this is all must have happened because I made such a big deal about Meghan finally getting skype. As of now I have no phone until further notice. Sorry if you have tried to call and assumed the worst, i.e. maybe that I was eaten by a hippo. Fun fact, Mali actually means hippopotomus in Bambara, although I have yet to see one.

Now for some updates about my exciting life in Mali. Tuesday was a holiday to celebrate the end of a month long fast known as Ramadad for Muslims. It seems to be a combination of Halloween, the kids dress nicely and walk around to their neighbors who give them candy, and Thanksgiving, they eat all day long to celebrate the end of the fast. Since the holiday was on Tuesday I thought I would definately get some work done by Friday but alas there are no dice. Wednesday everyone seemed to be in a food comma, as they should be. Thursday the Mayor went to the capital, as I found out he does about 4 times a week, and of course Fridays are always half days because it is the day that most people go to Mosque. Saturday is the market day and Sunday..... well it's Sunday! Why work when you can start fresh on Monday. I gave up on finding a tutor, honestly I didn't work hard on finding one, but I have set up my own study schedule that seems to be working out for me. I also had a productive talk with my homologue and I now know where we are going to start with the women's group. My family is warming up to me. I showed off my skills tonight by "raising the tea", the literal translation for making the extremely strong, extremely sugary loose leaf green tea. The kids loved it. I also found out that Dio is the Florida of Mali. Not in the sense that it has a great view of the ocean and terrible hurricanes, but in the sense that there is a large population of "retired" people here. Retirement here is a little bit different than the 401k plans in the states. The kids in Dio go to school until they are about 13 and then after that they spend half of the year living in the capital and going to school and half of the year kicking it with the grandparents. Of course that is until they get married and then they move to Bamako and come back only for holidays. This is all great except all of the friends I have made in the last 3 weeks are going to be leaving soon. This leaves me with the grandparents, still really cool but sleep a lot, and the kids, still really cool but don't talk a lot. I'll have to change my game plan up a little. Basically I will have to talk to myself in my sleep..... wait no.

Other than the day to day life, I am helping to plan a bike trip to educate people on the importance of small enterprise development. Most of the work has already been done by an amazing PCV who has been in Mali for a year named Holly. We're also planning a trip to the wonderful waterfalls east of the capital. I promise to bring my camera this time. I can't believe it's already October!!! I hope you all are getting excited about the up coming election. We're going to have a big party here and stay up until the results are out, about 4 am Mali time. Please send me some updates. I would love to hear what you guys are up to too. I showed my family pictures that I brought and they say you are all "Tres jolie!" I must say I agree. Miss you all!

Hey folks! I'm now an official volunteer here in Mali. I got to set up my house and by some furniture or at least a bed. Day to day I don't really do too much yet as I am still learning the language. I go running every morning and then "study" aka lay a book in my lap while the kids play market with their favorite toy, the white girl. Then I work up the courage to talk to the mayor's office staff, three guys that assume I speak French better than Bambara... if they only knew... After that I make an awkward departure to go to my homologue's house to have lunch which is a 2 hour process. In order to feel like I'm not just eating a running, I sit around to chat but soon they realize I only know what they're saying about 60% of the time (and that works everytime) and I realize they really just want to watch TV and could care less if I stayed an extra 30 minutes after eating. I walk home and use the excuse of a nap to have a few hours to myself. After I feel guilty for being such a hermit I "wake up" refreshed and ready to intregrate! On my 3rd walk through the village of the day I greet my neighbors who are now use to me and all know my name. If you thought I was bad a names in the states (which I am, the starbucks customers I won over with my extremely amazing personality and good looks, not my memory of their names, but Mrs. Venti 8 pumps mocha, breve, 210 degree extra whip lady loved me) I'm even worse when the names are Niare, Djara, Shekabubakar, and Zumana. They also have nicknames for everyone which makes it easier/more confusing. After my stroll through town I either "gossip" with the girls (mostly just joking about who is who's "che"/man) or play soccer with the little boys. Unfortunetly it's near impossible to play soccer in a wrap around skirt and flipflops, but damn if it isn't hilarious. My homologue feeds me lunch and dinner, but her house is on the other side of town and Malians don't eat dinner until after sunset. This is fine except my homologue is actually part coworker, part stern grandmother and insists that I can't walk home after dark. We now have a system that she packs me a little dinner to go and I take it home to eat next to my family. This was a little weird at first, but now we both use it (that's what she...). I have to plan my eating percisely so that I am still eating when they are so I can politely decline the Malian need to forcefully invite people to eat with them. We end up drinking tea, talking politics and exchange views on globalization and who should be responsible for global warming..... and by that I mean we just drink tea and I look up at the stars. I make a goal to socialize until at least 9 before going to bed. Last night I was near my goal when my host dad noticed I was zoning out and asked why I wasn't chatting. My host mom then took the opportunity to complete shift so that it was clear I had her full attention. The conversation was menial but the gesture and the routine it has set up was priceless. My accomplishments so far are small and often hard to measure. I'm proud to say that I read 2 books in the last 2 weeks, I know all of my family and homologue's family names, I run every morning and I feel comfortable buying things in the market (so crowded that mom would last about .5 seconds). Small victories, but I have to get know the community before I can ask deeper questions like, "How do you think we could provide a sustainable form of income to boost the Malian economy?" or " Don't you think it would be better for women to go to school for more than 3 years before getting married even if they don't have to work outside of the family?" All in all I think I have a pretty sweet gig here. I miss you all, I will let you know when I get the ruby red slippers to work!

Here are some more pictures , much requested from the padres.

I can still get my dance on in Africa.

Here's my small class of 3 for Bambara and our amazing karamogo(teacher), Moussa.

Me and my "husbands" to deter male suitors.

One of my good friends after we both swore in as new Peace Corps volunteers.

I go out to my new house tomorrow so I won't have the internet for at least 2 weeks. Call me if you can't live without me. Miss you all!

Ok friends this is what you all have been waiting for... me to stop talking!!! Here are some pictures that I got from my friends. I will post more from my new camera that was sent to me soon.

Oh yeah I carried this all the way across the village.

If I can't laugh at myself.... others will definitely take the lead.

When the going gets tough.....

Our formal classroom!

If you were ever wondering where shea butter comes from, this is me mixing it up with one of the Peace Corps directors.My host dad, BabaMy little sister and host mom, Balikesa and Jennajay.

I'm in Africa. That may seem like an obvious, almost needless, statement but today may be the first time I had enough time to actually realize it. We have been so busy and so overwhelmed with information and new exciting things that I have not had anytime to think of the reality that this is going to be my life for the next two years. This all hit me on the top of a mountain over looking a scene I swear I've seen in The Lion King. We went on a field trip to learn how shea butter is made and how we can help Malians be more productive and receive a larger profit for one of their biggest natural resources. I now feel pretty solid on how I'm actually going to be doing some important work for the next few years. Then we went to a waterfall and a cave, at which point I just had to tell myself, this is what my life is now, mixing shea mush and climbing mountains in Africa. I feel pretty freaking lucky.

Everything thus far I would have to chalk up to luck actually, that and my inability to be really bothered by anything, but mostly luck. Even in my training group there have been some much worse situations that could have just as easily happened to me, in which even my rainbows and butterflies would have been smashed. This last week I spent time in my site and honestly I thought it was going to be much worse, and after hearing other trainees' stories it could have. I have a great homologue (french for counterpart), I had amazing food, a bed and I didn't get sick or bored at all. My village is smallish: I have cell phone reception, easy water to get, a main road (key for reliable transportation) and a large market. My house has 2 cement rooms and a tin roof in a concession with 2 other families. I'm also really close to 3 great other volunteers and semi close to 6 more. I'm in the middle of the country so I can really go anywhere and am surprisingly close to the capital. Also, more importantly, I'm not a PCV in Georgia right now.

For the next 19 days I'm going to be doing nothing but training in my homestay (the picture at the top is from our training village) on our last long stretch before we are sworn in as actual volunteers. In less than a month from now I will be living on my own and starting my real job. This next few weeks, though, are going to be a bit challenging. I imagine I will get very frustrated with almost everything by the end, but that will be a perfect set up for our giant party after swear in.

Some not so noteworthy points (Lindsay feel free to tune out now), I'm still happy, healthy and safe. I do get your comments and love all of them so keep them coming. I'm not sure how to respond to them except to write another blog, but thank you all. I will be without internet for the next 19 ish days, but I do have my phone and reception so feel free to call me. Also next time I am planning on having TONS of pictures from my friends that took pictures on our trip and other such activities. I haven't receive mail yet, but others have so it will get here and I promise to let you know when I get it. I hope you are all reading the news, and Tim if my absentee ballot doesn't show up in time, I have dibs on Mom's vote this year. Have a great few weeks guys.

As I am about to visit my site, with only my Malian counterpart and minimal language skills, I would like to reveil some typical American things I have been able to do. As I said before I do watch TV with my family almost every night. All you that thought I would not drink for 2 years (myself included), you will be slightly dissapointed to know that we as a group (almost all 75 of us) have already gone to a bar at least 3 times. By bar I mean someone's house where they sell Castle beer which is comprable to Rainer. I also have more soda here than I did in the States (sorry mom and meghan there is no diet soda here). On one of our field trips to the capital we got hamburgers for lunch. It was waaaay too much food, but that is the American way is it not? Back at the training center I have already found out whom I can ask to get me things when I'm feeling a little lazy which is...... almost all of the time. To counteract that I make sure to get people water or more food or clean up plates every time I get up.

I am being rushed to get off to go meet my Malian co worker so I will just do a little list to help out Lindsay and those of you that want to send me things.

Things I'm glad I brought

Crank lantern: not batteries baby!

Quick dry towel: it is the rainy season

Laptop/ipod/solio: sanity

Yoga ish pants: soccer, under skirts, all around good times

Face sunblock: All the protection without all the breakouts!

Babywipes: so I can be clean at least before bed

Makeup/ mirror: to remember I can still look good even in Africa.

Things I could use more of (wink wink):

Hand sanitizer

Hotsauce and chips (Hey Laura while you're at the store....)

headbands

cheap cute shirts

DVD's (mostly just mine that I left)

Earrings

Cliffbars/ snacks

Cards

Camera

More face sunscreen

babywipes, shampoo

razers

ipod speakers

I can live without most of these, but I would love any of them. That's all for now! I am starting to miss most of you.

Well I now know what it looks like outside the Camp Mali and the grass is actually greener. That's right Mom there's even grass in Africa, reason #14 to travel outside of Nevada. I would post pictures to prove it, but somehow the camera won't turn on anymore even with the special batteries. I'm going to try to get my friend's pictures until I figure out a way to take my own.

For training they split up the group of 75 trainees into groups of 4 to 11 depending on sector and language level. Most of the homestay sites, where we all go to learn language and culture before starting our real jobs, are about a 15-20 min drive outside of the training center, but mine... was an hour and a half, but it's the best one!! The name even means "jealousy" in Bambara. When we got there we met all of the important people including the dugutigi (chief) and the mayor and the people we were going to live with. After a lot of translating by our language teachers, we stood by our new families and before we knew it we were dancing in a circle to drums! Apparently this was the naming ceremony. My Malian name is Masaba Samake. My first name means Queen. So I really am the African Queen! After the drums faded away we walked with our new families to our new homes.

I now live in a square mud hut with a thatched roof. It is really nice because unlike the tin roof, the mud hut keeps cool during the entire day which is key for my 1 o'clock nap after lunch. My host mom is amazingly similar to my mom back home.... She's bossy and loud and... I mean she's fun, loving and patient! Haha. She really is a ham and starts dancing while walking every time she thinks I am looking. It just so happens that I am always watching her because I really have no idea what I am doing most of the time, which in turn makes her dance that much more. She really looks after me (even to the extreme of insisting I go to bed at 8pm because she thinks I am going to melt in the rain storm, if she only knew...). The food is very different, obviously, and I am still getting use to it. I also eat every meal with my hands with one exception when I was sick and used a spoon as a result, I don't eat very much at eat meal. I had a flashback moment last week when I insisted that I was incredible full (needed in order to leave the table), and she responded by telling me that I could be done when I ate all my meat. I laughed and chewed for another 20 minutes. My younger host sister (age 5) reminds me of Bailey, she's bossy and loud.... I mean she's soooo cute!!! She is always excited to see me and never gets tired of me asking how to say things like table and shirt. Whenever I get too tired to dance, I make her sing and when I have too much energy I can always count on her to round up the 20 kids from our side of the neighborhood to play a massive game of "duck duck goo".

The village I am staying in is about 3,000 people and has electricity, cell phone reception (feel free to call me, it's free for me to receive calls!), but no internet or running water. My typical day at my homestay consists of waking up way after everyone else in my family at the incredible late hour of 6 in the morning, eating bread and tea with my host dad, getting a good morning Tubob (word for any white person) chant while walking to school, learning Bambara under the mango trees with 2 other trainees, eating lunch with my moms (cultural note, polygamy is common here), napping for about 40 minutes, learning about Malian culture with the rest of the trainees (there are 8 fantastic people at my homestay), taking a bucket bath at sunset (so amazing after sweating from just sitting all day), eating dinner with my host dad while watching a Brazilian soap opera dubbed in French (either way I have no idea what is going on), and then dancing and singing with the kids until I finally tell them I have to go to bed.

I am baffled at how friendly Malians are, even though I can literally say about 7 sentences right now. The amount of rain when it rains and the amount of stars has yet to fail to impress me. I was handed a baby to take with me on my walk to the market and the kids helped me tie a cloth around her so she was strapped to my back and I got her to fall asleep. Of course there are the few people that think it is funny to see how many questions and how fast they can greet me with on my walk to school before I can't function anymore, I had a baby pee on me (not the same one that I took to the market and back) and I think I might explode with all the carbs I am eating. Over all as far as the culture shock "phases" go (there are 5, to be explained as they happen later), I am still in the first stage: the honeymoon.

I got my site assignment today.... get excited to hear about it soon.

Alright alright, I'll do more blogging. You do need to realize I am in Africa getting at least 4 shots now (yeah and I didn't even flinch), learning how not to get malaria, learning 2 new languages, playing soccer (vital to my mental health) and then taking a bucket shower. Well now Caroline what is a bucket shower? Good question Suzie, but I think the answer should be rather obvious, you take a bucket, go to the nyuegen (a box where you do everything you would do in a bathroom) and try to scrub the grim off your arms at least. When I get back to my mud hut I can use the baby wipes to clean my feet more throughly(note to readers, send more baby wipes, the word cosco comes to mind). I know you are cringing Mindy and that is why you're not doing the PC, I can read minds, ha!

Honestly so far it feels like Camp Mali. Yes a 6th grade science camp you stay at to appreciate things like running water. But camp is fun right?! We'll see how I feel in a year. At this rate I will be tanner and skinnier than a bride at her own wedding (motivation Andrea....?). We had a cultural fair inside the training compound so we could buy some Malian clothing and eat on the floor with our hands!! It looks like fun, but not as easy as I thought. Best part though, getting down on the dance floor (dance dirt?) Malian style. Needless to say I didn't need to play soccer yesterday. Other than that the days seem to entail: eating breakfast at 7am (yes I am dressed and "showered" that early, stop laughing), doing language training (I am learning Bambara first and then French), health education (no really guys you DO have to wash your hands here), safety training (don't go anywhere by yourself, and if you do carry a stick, jk mom stop freaking out), soccer until we pass out (one more goal, one more goal!), then delicious dinner (sometimes with our hands) and then my dear readers I play a card game called Caroline is Faster Than You (aka any game I decide to play, thank you Meghan). Although now I have the reputation with my good friends that I am competitive, if they only knew my family....

Over all it has been great. All of the type of people that do Peace Corps are amazing, I'm almost always amongst friends. Tomorrow we start the part of training where we stay with local families. I will be one of 7 Peace Corps Trainees (PCT from here on out) in a village with a local that is employed by PC to teach us Language and Culture (otherwise known as LCF's). This is scary, but where it really all starts. We stay there for 12 days. Needless to say I won't have internet (needless, Caroline, we thought you won't have internet at all! funny guys, really funny). So I won't post anything, but hopefully I will have more time to write at night and I will post 2 when I get back.

Note about the picture situation, someone (aka mom....) didn't tell me I need a certain type of AA batteries (alkaline) for the camera so until I can snag some from my friends, you will just have to enjoy my witty banter. OK, ok I'll get on that fast, stop foaming at the mouth!!

Love you all! I'm sure I will miss you as soon as I have time to breath.

Hey so I made it safely with all my stuff. I will write a better blog about my experience when I have more time. They are keeping us very busy. So far it's hot (obviously) and overwhelming, but really exciting!!! They are taking really great care of us so stop worrying! And Lindsey, you're going to love it.

Someone, who happens to be right more than I would like to admit, once said that saying goodbye when moving far away is a lot like dying. Not in the morbid "let's all mourn my decaying body" kind of way, but more in the "I'm going somewhere you can't really picture and I may or may not ever see you again," kind of way. In the end this makes it extremely hard to say, well anything all. There's so much to express, so many people I want to take with me, but at the same time I am ridiculously excited to do this adventure all on my own.

So we have our wakes in the form of walking dogs, happy hours, working through fire drills, sitting in an empty house until all hours of the night, shopping, driving and avoiding the hard goodbyes. Hopefully through this blog you will be able to get some sort of insight into life in Mali so that it's less like I'm dying and more like I'm on an extended vacation, paid for by your tax dollars. So thank you in advance and I hope I live up to the expectations and to do wonderful things in Mali. If nothing else, let's hope they think I'm a little bit funny and entertaining.

Wish me luck this is going to be hard to pull off....

See you soon!