N bora so, n sera so

I left home, I arrived at home

The last 4 months have flown by in a way unexplainable. After returning to Mali from the United States back in December, I had been anxious for the last push- knowing that it would be filled to the brim with activities in order to prepare myself and my community for my departure- the last steps to complete our work together and make our efforts sustainable. And that's exactly how it was. Every day contained a meeting, a planning session, or an activity that kept Bassa so busy and me so proud to be a part of it. Before we get there, though, there's much to catch up on-

To celebrate International Handwashing With Soap Day (way back in September/October), we had a day of activities at the school and the madrassa (Koranic school). With the help of the teachers, we talked about the importance of hand-washing and followed-up by making paint hand-prints and washing our hands with soap. Something little that was a lot of fun!

I wrote my last entry while I was home in the United States in November. Beginning on October 31, my brother and I roadtripped down the Oregon coast to San Francisco and back to Seattle. It was a fantastic trip and we were able to meet up with family that I have not seen in forever. I cannot wait to do the trip again when the weather is better.

But the main reason I went home was for the wedding of my best friend of almost 20 years. I was honored to be a part of the wedding party for a wedding that went off without a hitch (except that of the bride and groom...)

Shortly after returning from the US, I was asked by some of the Peace Corps staff if I would give a session on radio in Mali at the In-Service Training of the new volunteers who arrived last July. Of course, I gladly agreed, and was able to give a presentation with the assistance of the same radio manual that helped me get started on radio almost two years ago.

Another wedding!

My good friend Ami, who has been in Bassa since I arrived in September 2008, got married in December. For my first two years at Bassa, it was Ami who had gotten matching outfits made with me for the celebration of Seliba or Tabaski. She was also the only one patient enough to attempt to braid my hair and one not upset when it would fall out. Her firey comments convinced any number of people to allow me to participate in activities that they normally would have deemed "too difficult" for me. But she was the one who pushed me to join in when I said that I would like to try, and the one who lovingly refused to let me leave when I said that I was tired or really could not do whatever it was they were doing. In this picture, we were going through the legal paperwork part of the marriage at the mayor's office.

The book of marriage licenses. The bride and groom each pick a witness who will also act as a counselor in case of problems. My host father (far-right) is often chosen as people's witness because of his level-headedness.

On the Radio

Between the time that I came back to Mali and the time I left Mali, I think that I only missed one Friday at my Radio show. The topics ranged from American weddings vs. Malian weddings (in honor of my friends), New Year's celebrations to some improved gardening techniques using natural fertilizers and pesticides I read in the PC-Mali Environment volunteer's handbook. The gardening shows went over very well and everyone was asking me to work with them on their plots.

Unfortunately, I had no real experience with the methods I had proposed, but we got to experiment together to see which ones worked and which ones were ineffective. Since the methods were used by volunteers before, I felt comfortable using them in my show, with a proper disclaimer that the effectiveness depends on the soil and plants you are applying it to and not to be discouraged if it doesn't work- just try something else! What's best for Bassa would not necessarily be best for the entire listening area.

This is a picture outside the radio station "Radio Djitoumou" with the radio technician and my fearless co-host, Crosby.

I gave my final radio show with help from my teammate- the PC volunteer who lives closest to me. We met at the studio and gave a joint show on Moringa- an awesome plant that is super nutritious.

Our Rural Maternity Just before Christmas, we were able to have the first muso konoman peseli- the weighing of and check-up of pregnant women, a pre-natal consultation- at the maternity in Bassa. We were assisted by another matron or trained midwife from Keleya (where the larger health center is). The following month, my host-mother, Babintou (the one who trained at the Regional capital), was able to hold the weighing by herself and I assisted by writing the information down on the maternity's copy of the paperwork, in notebooks and on cardstock records for each woman. In my absence and before the arrival of Ami, the younger matron, the health relais from Folona has agreed to help. This relais can write in French and is qualified to administer shots and IVs. Normally, a relais is someone who lives in village who attends weekly meetings at the nearest health center and then relays necessary information back to their villages, improving village awareness of pressing health issues. All information for the maternity is collected- recorded in one of 6 notebooks.

There is a general registry that keeps track of all activities taking place at the maternity, including things like the weekly cleanings of the maternity and visits from other doctors coming to do regular inoculations. Of course the registry also records the information for those visiting the maternity to give birth or to talk to the matron. Then there is the accounting notebook that records the money flowing through the maternity (another copy with the accountant).

Also, there are notebooks specifically for accouchement, or births, and CPN, or the information collected from those pre-natal check ups. This includes the date, the name of the woman, her husband's name and their home address (or the town they're from), then their health report- that is, if they gave birth to a boy or a girl, the time, any comments on the birth, how many prior pregnancies she has had. Or for the CPN, their blood pressure, the height of their bellies, and then a bunch of other things that the matron can check and diagnose, as necessary.

The final two notebooks collect information regarding the maternity's health association members. There is a "members card" that you can buy that discounts all services at the maternity. So the notebooks collect data- the number of cards sold to date. Another, super-thick notebook has written in it: all services provided at the maternity, noted under the card number for each card owner (each card can have 10 people attached to it). This keeps track of the health activities of everyone on that "members card". Thus, when someone comes in for their pre-natal check-up, the information is noted in three places: the registry, the CPN notebook and then, if the person is a card-holding member, in the association notebook under their specific member number. The association cards were completely the idea of the maternity committee members- I just helped them set it up. The cards were printed at shop in Ouelessebougou and then a team of sellers sold them in Bassa and Folona, explaining the benefits. Currently, only women benefit directly from the services at the maternity, but these services will increase when the health students return from Bamako!

In early February, we began a number of "advertising" visits to our surrounding communities. These visits were meant to inform our closest villages about the work of the maternity and to encourage them to come check out our facility. For many of these neighboring villages, Bassa is a much shorter trip than the next nearest health center, making it more convenient and safer than traveling to the other places with pregnant women. Also, the bi-weekly muso konoman peseli, pre-natal consultations, provide a local option for pregnant women who would often choose to go without these check-ups.

The maternity management committee has also selected teams to do village analyses to identify key health issues in the area. I am really excited for these teams to begin their work- first a group will do awareness in Bassa and Folona about the importance of these self-analyses and what would come of the information, followed by a series of questions about sanitation, common health problems, and how the people of Bassa and Folona deal with and treat sicknesses. I hope to receive updates about the work of the maternity and the maternity committee when talking to my homologue and other counterparts. It seems like so far, so good!

Our health students

Whenever I passed through Bamako, I made sure to stop by and visit the two villagers we have sent for health schooling in Bamako. Their midterms happened mid-January and I'm glad to report that they both passed! The young woman dressed in the school's uniform to my right is studying to be the matron who will work next to my host-mother Babintou. She'll offer a fresh set of eyes to the activities at the maternity, becoming the main person in charge of operations. The young man sitting on my left will be the nurse. He will be tasked to address minor illnesses and ailments and to act as the main point of contact with the health center in Keleya. Ideally, they will work together to move the maternity to the next step, progressing to be an even better facility, offering a variety of services beyond births, pre-natal consultations and baby weighings.

They will also involve the surrounding communities in health-awareness activities, helping the villages to identify strengths and weaknesses, sicknesses that need to be addressed in the home rather than waiting until it becomes more serious (prevention and outreach). Yes, I may have high hopes, but I also feel very confident in these students and their gracious sponsor, Madame Sangare. She is in the picture on the far right. I wrote of her before when she righted our relationship with the local health network. She has continued her amazing relationship with our village and has promised to act as the guide and main reference for the maternity. It calms me to know that she is willing and excited to develop this facility, guaranteeing its successful continuation.

In the Garden

Although I did not plant anything the garden for myself this year, I was kept busy with the chores of watering and weeding to help out my host-family with their plots. The NGO who helped provide the fencing and the two wells for the garden came back this year with improved seed types that villagers divided amongst themselves. So we benefited from delicious improved varieties of green peppers, onions, eggplant, lettuce and tomatoes, an amazing salad. There was also another root plant that I did not stay to see the harvest- manioc, or cassava, bananku in Bambara.

Christmas and the New YearWith so much going on, I decided to stay at site for a stint of 6-weeks that included the celebration of Christmas and New Year's. Although my community is completely Muslim, they gladly took the morning of the 25th off to celebrate with me, dancing, singing, preparing our Christmas dinner. The afternoon, I went caroling from household to household, sharing my version of Christmas. For their feast days, people usually get dressed up and go greeting at each household, but those being greeted are supposed to give a gift those those who come greeting. I told them that for Christmas, I didn't expect those small gifts of recognition.Making "Christmas dinner" with my host family. We had delicious garlic mashed potatoes, among other things.

The paper snowflakes we made together and hung under the hangar at my host family's house. It made it feel a little bit colder, maybe. Even now, snow is almost impossible to explain, but cutting out the paper was fun.

The following week, I decided to spend New Year's Eve with my original host family that lives in my market town of Keleya. They welcomed me, just like they did for the New Year's I spent with them 2 years ago (The New Year 2009.) After doing a radio show in Ouelessebougou, I raced back to Keleya to help my host-mother shopping. We bought the ingredients for a salad with fried plantain, pasta with meat. It was a calm evening that I spent chatting with my host family. At 11pm, we moved into the next stage of the celebration where my host brothers came out with the second round of pasta and chicken (or guinea fowl) and another salad! In addition, they all chipped in to buy cold soda's from the one soda shop in town. I shared a pineapple soda with my host sister.

Like I said, I had spent the New Year's Eve with them two years ago as well and that year we had gone early to the dance club. But this year, my two younger host sisters (see photo below) had decided to go to bed early! I have no idea how they managed to stay up to ring in the new year two years ago when they were 5 and 11, but could not keep their eyes open past 9:30 this year.

Instead my host brother who is the same age as me (far left in photo) and I spend the last hour of 2010 drinking tea and dancing with an 'exclusive' group of his friends. They were too cool for the dance club and so we played music on a stereo and danced in the 'downtown' of my market town, next to the main road that runs between Bamako and Bougouni.

The next day, my younger host brother 'drove' my two host sisters the 5 miles from my market town to my site and we had a slumber party. My host sisters (ages 13 and 7) had been asking me forever when they could come visit- neither of them had ever been to Bassa before and wanted to see where it was that I was living and working. My other host brother picked them up the following day on his motorcycle and took them back to Keleya.

This was yet another "New Year's" party that took place a few days after the new year... in order to spread out the festivities, I'm sure. Another night of eating (massive amounts of fried chicken and spaghetti followed by hot tea with milk and sugar) and dancing, but this time at my village in Bassa with a smaller group of close friends.

Study groupI continued my weekly study group of young women who are no longer attending school because they were needed to help with the chores at home. Studying and chatting with them each week was really enjoyable.

In late January, we moved away from formal study sessions to start a small project. They wanted to organize a sugu, or market, in village. We began collecting items, setting prices, and then decided on a time and a place. They held the market in mid-February, keeping in mind the good business practices we had been discussing in our study sessions. We have added my host brother, Papa, to the team and he will act as our cashier, noting what items are sold and at what price. After the market day, we held a few meetings to discuss how the market went and what improvements could have been made, specifically for our marketing and publicity. The proceeds from this garage-sale-ish market were donated to the maternity.

The Daily Grind

Just a disclaimer about this section: you may be upset or disappointed in my choice of action, but please realize that I feel I made the best decision for myself as a Peace Corps Volunteer and for the community I was serving. I would be up to talk about this and larger development issues with anyone and everyone now that I'm back home!

We held a food security formation in village the last week of September. I wrote a little about it in my last entry. We invited a formateur, or specific trainer, to come and speak with 24 villagers. Using PACA tools, they discussed local food security issues and devised a plan for how Bassa and Folona would work toward their priority needs. They agreed that a grinder would be the most useful and effective way to improve their food security in village- freeing time for women to do other work and set to writing an action plan. This is a machine, run on gasoline, that will grind grains into different consistencies of flour- a food processor for grains. There is also another machine grinder that de-husks rice and millet.

Not a few days after the conclusion of the formation/training, the community held a meeting and chose a committee to work on the grinder project.

In the month of October, the committee held two meetings to discuss the project. They discussed possible locations for the grinder, and did some searching for the prices of the grinding machines and the generator needed to run them. Before I left for the United States in November, I clearly tasked them with meeting regularly and also finding the reminding prices for the project. This included items such as the price of the building materials for the building to house the grinder (did they want cement or mud, metal roofing, how big? how many doors/windows?), the price of gasoline and other inputs to run the grinder, the price for tools needed for fixing the grinder if it ever broke, the price of installation, for transporting the grinder from Bamako where it would be purchased, the price of a training for the women who would, in theory run and manage the grinder after installation. By meeting regularly, even bi-weekly, they could discuss organizational issues, like how they wanted responsibilities to be divided, who they wanted to select to learn to run the grinder, who would be in charge of the management and accounts (the money coming into the grinder and maintenance costs), as well as to compare the prices they found for building supplies and materials. I told the committee that we would discuss options that included their estimates on my return from a trip to the United States. I was clear that I would not be doing any work on this project until I returned.

But perhaps not clear enough, for when I returned from the states, no one from the committee approached me about the grinder. They held no meetings and said nothing. Strangely enough, at the same time, everyone in the village was saying how excited they were for the new grinder that was coming. I was disappointed and upset with the committee because it was obviously the assumption that I would just be getting a grinder for them, although I had explicitly said we were doing this project together and had said that we needed to consider financing options that were not Peace Corps. (For those of you who do not know, Peace Corps is not a financial institution that automatically funds the projects its volunteers are helping communities put into place. There are plenty of development projects that require absolutely NO funding- for instance, a radio show, activities with the schools, sharing improved gardening techniques, doing awareness days with village. Some may even say that these non-funded development projects are more sustainable with potential for greater impacts than say, a building project. Peace Corps does offer a few financing options- like the Peace Corps Partnership Program that I used to help raise money for the maternity. At the end of the development day, however, it is more effective and efficient to search out local funding options, putting communities in contact with organizations in their area that are already willing to sponsor grants- they are just waiting for a worthy proposal. So that's why I was insisting on Bassa doing the legwork for their project. Once they have practice writing and submitting proposals to local financing organizations, they will have more confidence in doing the same thing again when they come across another project they need help funding, instead of waiting for an NGO or Peace Corps volunteer to come along.)I waited a month and a half after coming back from the States (January) before letting my homologue/counterpart remind the grinder committee that perhaps they should meet and let me know about their efforts. At the meeting I was very straightforward with the committee, expressing my disappointment. I asked if they had found the remaining prices and they had not. They had told the women's association that soon enough, they would be getting a new grinder. They also had requested and prepared a location for the grinder and began moving in materials, such as rocks. I emphasized that what they had actually done was good, but I had been very specific about the tasks that needed to be accomplished in order for the committee to move forward with the project. Detailed project design and management needed to take place.

They regrouped and began holding weekly meetings. The grinder committee researched the remaining costs and devised a proposal. They asked around about grinders in neighboring communities and found a private contractor who does this for a job. They considered many possible funding options that were not through me or Peace Corps.They are still meeting and trying to decide how to continue with the project. I consider it a success, although it might seem that I was harsh. I believe it was a lesson that my community had to learn-- that not all formations lead to the NGO or trainer just giving the community what they want. Truly, my community was disappointed, but I think they understood better what Peace Corps is all about.

Full Circle

Towards the end of January, the Utah Alliance, an American/Malian NGO with a presence in Bassa, came to give the third year health training to our community members. Luckily, I have been able to participate in all three of these trainings and have seen the progress, things good and bad, this group has made. It was this group that insisted beginning a weekly village clean-up and now is looking to construct soakpits that will collect dirty standing water that runs out onto the main paths in town. I wish I could be a part of this project, because soakpits seem like such a fantastic idea for improving village sanitation!

Segou music festivalI was able to take a short break from site during the first week in February and travel to Segou for the international "Festival Sur le Niger." During this festival, artists come from all over Mali and West Africa to perform for an international audience. There are also art exhibitions, dances, masks and puppets, fantastic avocado sandwiches and lovely bogolan or mudcloth creations. Last year, my parents and I were able to attend the first few days of concerts and performances before making our way back to my site. This year, the highlights in my opinion, were the superstars Oumou Sangare (a diva from Mali) and Femi Kuti and his entire band from Nigeria. And their dancers. Now back in the United States, I plan to spend a good amount of time collecting my favorite Malian hits and listening to them on a boom-box, just as if I were back in Bassa...

This was a great group from the Bambara (Jula)-speaking area of Burkina Faso called Badenya (perhaps meaning childhood? Or the relationship between parent and child?). They were fantastic!

Replacement

My village requested that another volunteer be placed in Bassa to continue Peace Corps work, specifically focusing at assisting the development of the new maternity and improving village health. This new volunteer will hopefully be a part of the next group arriving in the fall (due to a high demand for volunteers, one will not be placed there right now)!

Peace Corps requires that the community who requests a volunteer provides the housing for that volunteer. The house that I have lived in is wonderful, but it is only "on loan" from someone currently living in Bamako. That's why Bassa villagers decided to build my replacement volunteer a brand new house that is absolutely gorgeous, in my opinion, with a brick wall/fence surrounding it. This house is also closer to another concession, or group of houses, unlike mine, which is set back from the village a little bit.

Donkeys standing in the shade of an old house they tore down in order to built a beautiful new one.

Making the mud bricks for my replacement's new house!The almost-finished version of the replacement's house. About a month ago, they finished the brick wall/fence. The windows, doors, roofing and front screened-in porch were completed this past weekend. I'm sure that it is gorgeous and wish I were there to see it!

Aw k'an benLet us meet again

The end of my service was absolutely packed full of activities... each and every day we had a meeting of some sort (shea butter, grinder, village laws), a visit or fieldtrip (to projects that we were interested in- e.g. a fish farm), or activity at the maternity (CPN or publicity). For that reason, I made a list of people that I needed to say farewell to and started that process early. It may have seemed silly that a month ahead of my COS-date, I had already said goodbyes to those in Bougouni, our regional capital, but because it involves a full day of transport and walking around town, I needed to schedule it to make sure that it happens- that I wouldn't forget anyone. So on a Monday in early February I took transport to Bougouni in the morning, saying goodbye to the family who hosted the two women who participated in training in Bougouni, the doctors who facilitated the trainings and my Keleya host sister who is there studying to be a secretary.

Because greeting is so important in Malian society, I found it necessary to put a lot of effort into making my farewells count- trying to spend a decent amount of time really reflecting on the relationships that I had had with a certain person or family, instead of a just a quick wave. These are the people who have been gracious enough to host me for the past two years and eight months, to patiently deal with my lack of language or cultural sensitivity, and to invite me into their lives on a level that I do not know that I will ever be able to achieve with a large number of Americans (and that's okay!!).

I also had a final day in Ouelessebougou- the town where I do my banking, pick up my mail and have my radio show. Early in the morning, I had to close my post office box, then my bank account, and then I flew to the radio station to be on time for my last show (which I wrote about). I was really glad to have my teammate there to help me on my last show because I did not want to get emotional on-air. From there, I dove into market to search out everyone who I needed to greet- NGOs who I have worked with, families who have connections to Bassa, other friends who I have made from participating in Ouelessebougou activities. It took me until 4:30 in the afternoon to make all the rounds.

There's something really touching about Malian farewells. I'm sure if you are reading any other PC-Mali blogs, that you've already heard about the lefthandshake. For those of you who have not, I've previously mentioned that the lefthand is considered dirty or wrong, so all actions are done using the righthand- people eat with their righthand, they shake with their righthand, the give and receive things (money, items) exclusively with the righthand. Therefore, if someone gives you their lefthand, it is considered an insult.When leaving, Malians offer the lefthand. This time, it is not meant to offend, but rather to say "You must return to correct this. We cannot part on bad terms." A symbolic gesture that brought me to tears each time.

In addition, when saying goodbye, there are a number of phrases that regularly come up. Many of them are blessings, "May god protect you during your travels home, " "May god allow you to return to your family safely," "May you return soon." But the phrase that really meant a lot to me was the request for forgiveness. Before the blessings, the person leaving asks for forgiveness for all they have done to their hosts during their time as a guest and the host says they are forgiven, also asking the guest to forgive them. Another wonderful tradition that provided me with a refreshing sense of closure. On my last day in village, Bassa had invited (hired) a local singer, her drummers and masked dancers to come entertain us. The masked dancers are called "Sigui" and are supposed to represent the spirit of an antelope-like animal that lives in the forest (I have included two short videos of their dancing below).

The celebration took place in the morning. It began with dancing and singing, followed by speeches from a number of village representatives: the chief of the village, someone from the mayor's office in Keleya, someone from Folona, the two health students, the health promotrice, a Bassa rep from Bamako, the women's association president, and a Malian staff member from Peace Corps, who had agreed to come along.

Then they began to fasa da, or to basically sing the praises of anyone, telling of that person's history and good deeds. Usually this involved a monetary contribution to the entertainers on behalf of that person. That person is pulled from the audience and brought to center stage, where everyone then goes to thank that person, raising their arm in the air- the women drape their scarves on them. And then a dance. We, the women, made one large circle and danced while the singer named off the next person. This went on for quite awhile until everyone had been recognized for their efforts, this time especially for the work that we had done together. I made sure that my homologue/counterpart and my host-mother received the thanks they deserved.

Lunch was served for everyone. Bowls of food were distributed to different households were the crowd then dispersed to go eat. They agreed that after the selifana prayer at 1:30, we would meet again to say a last goodbye.

But of course, it was not the last goodbye. While in Bamako, completing the necessary paperwork, a received daily, if not hourly, phone calls from Malian friends from Bassa and elsewhere who were calling to say bye, to wish me luck on getting into grad school, to give me blessings that would ensure my safe arrival back in the States. It seems that their farewells have done their job!

N sera soNow I'm home and readjusting back into a number of things. This is a process that will take awhile, so bear with me. I'm definitely willing (and looking forward to!) sharing these experiences and photos with you all in person!

First off, apologies again to everyone for the delay in posting. I find it extremely difficult to sit down at a computer and write when I have already written these things in my journal, or for reports for Peace Corps, or just speaking about it with friends and family. I realize that this is neglecting a large number of loyal readers who have been waiting patiently for the next of my rambles. Strangely enough, photos refuse to upload- even with highspeed internet. I'll try to add them ASAP or you can just check out my facebook photo albums. Apologies.Currently I’m in the north country- back at home in the United States- for a short vacation. This past weekend my best friend of almost 20 years got married to her more than just high school sweetheart. This is a wedding I could never have dreamed of missing because we have been imagining and planning it forever.

But, without further ado, let me present to you:A September to CelebrateA blog entry in five partsWritten and experienced by Sara Snider a.k.a. Mandio (pronounced “Mahn joe”) BagayokoI. August- the preparationAfter returning from a 3 week vacation to Burkina Faso, Ghana and Togo, I spent most of August jumping back and forth between Bamako and Bassa. During these trips I was helping with a few sessions for the new group of PC trainees, saying goodbye to many volunteers that I began with two years ago and preparing for the month of September that was promising to be busier than anything I had yet experienced. In addition, I visited Bougouni twice to check up on my host mother, Babintou, who was completing her refresher course on maternity issues and midwifery. At the end of her training, the health branch of the government and the community health center in Keleya had agreed that the rural maternity could open.Not long after my homecoming, we began the development of skits and songs to be performed at the rural maternity ribbon-cutting ceremony. I acted as the director and producer, providing feedback to and support for the performers. At first there was only one group of 16 youth, many recycled from the theatre group we had perform at International Women’s Day back in March. They already had a skit in mind and decided to meet two nights a week to practice. This was group Sanuya or “cleanliness” and their presentations focused on malaria, the need for pre-natal care, and the value of sanitation. Then, a second group formed from the children who hadn’t been included in the first group, but who also wanted to participate. The group Denkadi or “the child is more important than anything” created a whole new skit with the theme “Prevention is the best medicine,” then found and choreographed applicable songs. Throughout August, I tried my best to attend all of their rehearsals.On one of my trips to Bamako, I appeared on national TV for an interview on the importance of high-quality shea butter production. The Malian businessman who, last year, purchased a large portion of Miiriya Nyuman’s (“Good Idea” in Bambara our shea association), shea butter invited me as an additional guest to a talk show he was to be on. He acts as the president for a large shea-producers union in Bamako and through his interaction with our community, thought that I might be able to add something to the national shea conversation. The night before the talk show, we met with the show host at the businessman’s office. He explained the format of the show provided us with an outline of the questions he would ask (remember: this is all in Bambara). The following morning, the businessman was running late and we arrived at ORTM, the Malian Office of Radio and Television, just twenty minutes before the scheduled start time. We found the host in his office and went quickly to the soundstage. The crew prepped us, found pale makeup and lipstick for me and told us which camera to look at and when. Not three minutes later, the recording began.Or so I had thought, until I asked the host when the 45 minute spot would air. He told me it would probably re-air the following week, but that it had been a live broadcast! I have yet to see or to receive my copy of the broadcast, but I heard from many viewers over the upcoming weeks, many people from my market and banking towns excited about seeing the Bambara-speaking American they know who lives in Bassa.My host family helped me celebrate my 24th birthday and the 2nd anniversary of my first visit to village. Yes, two years ago I got my first taste of Bassa for a week during our “site visit.” We travelled to our sites, met the important individuals, set up our bank accounts and mailboxes, cried because we couldn’t communicate, asked ourselves what we had gotten into and made so many assumptions that have since been disproved. Of course, this only got better with time and two years have since passed- I could not have chosen a better fit for myself.II. Selifitini- the prayerSeptember began with a visit from a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer from the neighboring country of Burkina Faso and just did not stop. Each week was another multiple day event that required our attention and each night was a meeting or review. With the rainy season still in full swing, a huge rain storm disturbed, but did not discourage the new stage or group of volunteers that swore-in at the US Embassy on September 3rd. While in Bamako, I picked up all the supplies we needed for the celebration to take place September 16th because I realized just how hectic the upcoming month would be.The following week, my village was caught by surprise, when the important religious figures in Mali announced the end of Ramadan, the month of fasting, a day earlier than expected. Ramadan usually ends after 30 days with the first sighting of the new moon. In total, I fasted 20 days this year in solidarity with my village- this means no food or drink (including water) from sunrise to sunset. I might have cheated a little bit by allowing myself to eat after I woke up instead of waking before sunrise to eat. Light rain put a damper on the usual festivities, but did not completely limit the merriment. Around 5:30am my host brother pounded on my door to present me with my warm bath water, the sign that the day had arrived and they would be expecting me not too much later in my nice clothes for breakfast. Then, in breaks between showers, the whole community attended the day’s service at the mosque since the normal outside prayer spot was damp.I was surprised when the women of village decided to have a meeting on selitini. They ended up spending two hours (!) discussing plans and fundraising for the celebration of the rural maternity opening and shea butter production presentation scheduled for a week from that day.We spent every second of the week following selifitini in extreme preparation for September 16th. My Malian counterpart, other villagers and I painted the signs that would indicate the turn from the main highway in Keleya, which road to take to get to Bassa, the “welcome to our rural maternity” sign that stands at the entrance and the four signs posted on the building to designate the different rooms (i.e. office, birthing room, recovery room).On the Sunday before, the promotrice who had helped us through so much already, offered to help with the ceremony. Madame Sangare, her husband, and a few other Bamako representatives (by which I mean relatives or friends of Bassa). We all met at the dugutigi’s (chief of the village’s) house where we explained the plans, the different commissions already in place, and asked for advice. They had plenty of suggestions and presented their own ideas on how to make the day run smoothly. They even had a photographer and DJ lined up, who they would return with on Wednesday afternoon.By this time, the two youth groups had become competitive, and not in a good way. They would secretly listen in on the other group’s rehearsal, many times by hiding in the tall rows of corn and then report their ‘findings’ back to their own. What these ‘findings’ were, I am still unsure, as the groups were doing completely different skits, but the children became angry enough with snoopers to start yelling matches about who was better. Sanuya would become jealous of Denkadi if I had spent more time attending the other group’s practice and threatened to cancel their own practice. The competition created unnecessary tension as the parents of the youth also got involved, although that was difficult because most families had some children in both groups. Even the night before, I was afraid that I might have to cancel that part of the ceremony when one group refused to let the other onto the performance area. Oh drama.III. September 16th- the prideI have never been so proud of my community. The months (and a year) of preparation culminated in a fantastic ceremony that truly highlighted the skills and strengths of Bassa. The week before, our maternity management committee president had signed our Cahier de Charge, a legal document written by the head doctor from Bougouni, the doctor from Keleya and the president of the government’s health branch. This Cahier de Charge outlines the roles and responsibilities of each party who signed. It explains in detail what activities can and cannot take place at the rural maternity in Bassa and how these activities will be supported within the local health network. We frantically ran around market on Monday to insure everything had been arranged- the final sign cemented in place, the sodas and ice ordered and the chairs we rented ready for pick-up on Wednesday. Each of the commissions knew the role they had to fulfill and did so with skill. They assigned a leader to be in charge of locating tarps and righting the wood poles for shade on the soccer field. There was a leader of ‘security’ to do crowd control and to guide the guests to the next event. A few people led the commission of food preparation and distribution, keeping in mind that two cows would be slaughtered and prepared, over 150 kilos of rice prepared and that this all would be served to the hundreds of visitors expected from neighboring communities. The night before, we had a huge dance party in the center of town. Unfortunately, I left early (around 1:30am) because I was so worried about weather- the storm clouds in the east did not bode well. We had received three huge rains the week before and over the weekend so even a passing storm could flood the dike area and require us to cancel the visit.Bassa woke up bright and early on Thursday. Everyone went to work- placing chairs, sweeping town, preparing the speeches. The mayor arrived around 8:00, which sent everyone into a frenzy thinking that the day’s activities would soon start. The American delegation of Peace Corps staff, my good friend Dan, the president of the Malian Association for the Promotion of the Young Woman, and a small group from the Embassy were scheduled to leave Bamako around 7:30, so there was no way that they would arrive before 9:00 and it was more likely that it would be closer to 10:00. The vehicle (a villager from Bamako’s) left to wait at the turn-off. When the caravan arrived, it would follow this car to Bassa. They would also call someone perched in cell phone reception on the top of the mosque to inform them they were on their way.Around 8:30, the teenager assigned to stay in cell phone reception got bored and instead of waiting for the call, told everyone that the caravan must already be on its way- in the dead zone of no reception between Keleya and Bassa. This, I knew, was highly unlikely, but did not have a chance to step into reception myself and call someone from the Peace Corps staff. We had been preparing the shea production presentation, step-by-step from fruit to nut, powder to paste and emulsified fats to solidified butter. At the end of the ‘fair’ was a table of local products, including sumbala (a spice used in sauces), fu (called staph- a plant-based material used in home decorating) and pottery. We made the ‘final’ preparations and made our way to the soccer field where most everyone was already lining the road to greet the visitors.We waited there for what seemed like hours. Everyone was afraid to leave because we had been told that the guests would arrive any second. The clouds that had been approaching amazingly burned off and made for a hot, sunny day. The sigui or masked dancers and singer entertained. Around 9:40, our Bamako guests arrived and the festivities began.The youth group Denkadi met the delegation with traditional gifts of welcome- calabash bowls of milk and kola nuts and some corn. We proceeded to walk around the entire line of people to present the visitors to the crowd and then finally take our seats. The chief of the village officially welcomed everyone and introduced villager Saibou who was our MC. Saibou currently lives in Cote d’Ivoire, but came back to Bassa where he was born and raised for the planting season. He spoke eloquently of the importance of the day and then turned it over to the other speakers.The mayor, sous-prefet (another government representative), head doctor from Keleya all spoke in addition to representatives from the Embassy and Peace Corps. Unfortunately, the podium was out in the center of the soccer field and did not have any shade (which probably encouraged the speakers to keep it short!). We transitioned to the shea presentation in the center of town; a small group of Malians and all the guests were invited to the ‘fair.’ At this point I was praying that we would not encounter any major issues considering that we left the set-up early. Overall, the presentation was successful. The president of the Malian Association for the Promotion of the Young Woman assisted because she dabbles in shea work and helped arrange for the original shea training that happened in Bassa my first spring. At the final table, Miiriya Nyuman presented four people with gifts of shea butter in a handmade pot. Other pottery items were on sale.We returned to the field and went directly to the maternity where the sous-prefet cut the ribbon, the Deputy Chief of Mission on one side and our Peace Corps-Mali Country Director on the other. They entered the building for a brief tour (it’s only three rooms…) before taking their seats again for the completion of the festivities.After discussions about time, we had agreed that one youth group would sing their choreographed songs and the other would present their skit. Later in the afternoon, after lunch, the first group, Denkadi, would be able to perform for everyone. This had to be my favorite part of the ceremony, excluding only short delays when each group set-up. Both Denkadi and Sanuya were fantastic and the crowd really got into their work. All of the tension melted into laughter.

I gave my short speech of appreciation to all of the parties involved- to the guests for coming and participating, to the children and Miiriya Nyuman and to all of the groups involved in making the day a success. I emphasized that this day was meant to show these communities just what resources and talents they have, including the ability to execute these development projects and to host a superb fête. Everyone came to see the good work done by these communities, but we also need to realize that the work is not quite finished. Only by continuing to support these efforts can they succeed, can they realize the benefits from the days, weeks, months and years of hard work. In Malian culture, it is polite to ‘request the road’ or to ask to leave, and so I did on behalf of those returning to Bamako.Before agreeing, there was one final gift. The mayor, the chief of the village of Folona and my Malian counterpart presented the Deputy Chief of Mission, our Country Director and myself each with a wooden statue called a ciwara (pronounced “chee wah rah”). This mystical figure represents hard work and perseverance (in agriculture). Traditionally, it was presented at the end of harvest to the farmer who had produced the most in honor of their efforts. Although the practice of giving a ciwara has become less common, the significance remains.We walked the visitors to their vehicles and gave them blessings for safe travels. It had been a wonderful beginning for the rural maternity; a true vote of confidence in Bassa and Folona.Not long after they left, I asked if I would be able to take a short break back at my house. The MC and my counterpart agreed that not much was currently happening, that my presence was not needed. The food was not quite ready, they said. I retired to my house on the other side of village and took a much needed nap.Around the time of selifana prayer (2:00) I returned to the soccer field to find that food had still not been divvied up… and people were getting very hungry. Had anyone explained the situation to the masses? Of course not. So I took the mic and asked everyone to please be patient- perhaps they could pray selifana and by that time, the zame (pronounced zah may) would be divided amongst the large bowls and passed out.I waited only slightly longer there before realizing just what a nightmare this food issue had been. My host mother commandeered a small bowl for me and told me we should head back into town. Because the food had taken so long, all of the other activities (speeches and presentations, the other skit, the dancers) were cancelled (perhaps just postponed). Many of the visitors from other towns packed up and left as the clouds from the morning reappeared in the east. And we weren’t escaping this time.At 3:45ish, the skies let loose. The soaking rains cooled the anxieties of the late lunch. Everyone moved indoors, ending that day’s activities. Sadly, the delayed meal overshadowed the beautiful ceremony and everyone spent the days following focused on the flubbed food.The Chief Didn’t Eat- the puzzleAt the very end of a maternity committee meeting a few days after September 16th, a representative from Folona, our neighboring village that shares the new rural maternity, asked for the floor to speak. We had accomplished a lot during the meeting so far and the discussions of the festivities’ finances and the overall execution of the ceremony had died down. Midnight was approaching and everyone was growing anxious to leave. It was then he broke the news: that amidst the chaos of the celebration and the craziness of the ‘kitchen,’ the chief of the village of Folona had not received his portion. At least two committee members gasped and most everyone else sucked their teeth, expressing extreme disapproval.We then spent another half an hour discussing how this mistake could have occurred and what to do about it. There had been a commission of people to cook, to divide the food into bowls, a commission of people to pick waitresses to deliver the food to the distinguished guests, and then the actual women in charge of delivering the food, so at what point in that line had things gone wrong? Everyone was so embarrassed. We decided immediately that a special delegation of villagers from Bassa would be sent to ask forgiveness for the error. The chief of Folona would most likely excuse the mistake as nothing, but failing to acknowledge our fault would be an even larger insult than the misplaced meal.So I joined the new ‘commission in charge of apologizing to Folona’s chief’ and we met with the elders of Folona later that week. It turns out that the both of the chiefs’ food had been sent to the boutique in town where the chief’s wife was. The young woman who delivered the food there did not specify who it was for, so when visitors from another town passed by saying they were hungry, the chief’s wife thought it necessary to give the food to them, assuming that there would be more food on its way. The two chiefs arrived at the boutique to find their food gone. They waited and waited, but no food came. Unfortunately, the food had run out not long after and no one thought to check back to see if the chief had successfully received his bowl of zame.The request for clemency succeeded and Folona’s chief shrugged off the experience. He said that he knew we did not do it on purpose and therefore, the apology had been unnecessary- more for our own sake than for his. With a communal sigh of relief from Bassa’s representatives, the worries and embarrassment that had overshadowed the success of the ceremony disappeared. Finally, they could celebrate their accomplishments comfortably and with confidence.IV. 50 years of Independence- the peopleWednesday, September 22nd, most of my village and I biked (or walked or moto’d) to Keleya, our market town, to celebrate the 50th year of Malian Independence. There, we watched bicycle and motorcycle races, parades and presentations, soccer matches and traditional dancing until way past midnight. My favorite part of the day took place at the high school’s soccer field. Keleya is the equivalent of our county seat and so each of the 21 villages in the commune (county) came to celebrate there. During the morning, the celebration’s MC gave each of the towns present approximately 10 minutes of time to present their village’s talent (see photos on facebook). Other larger festivities were happening everywhere, especially in regional capitals and in Bamako.The Friday after the 22nd, Crosby, my co-host, and I continued our weekly radio broadcast in Bambara by doing a show I had previous done about Handwashing with Soap. Although International Handwashing With Soap Day was not until the next month, I felt it relevant to the health theme that we had been running to spotlight the opening of the rural maternity. I left the radio station quickly to catch transportation to Bamako and then to a northern city called Banamba. There, a new volunteer assigned to work with shea butter was helping her counterpart group with a collaborative shea butter production effort. This newly formed association of 6 rural villages and 2 groups in Banamba had never worked together before to produce high-quality shea butter, but had organized themselves with that goal this year. That Saturday would be a workshop for them, each community transforming the nuts they had collected and sundried into a powder and then paste that they would beat into butter. It felt wonderful to share the experiences that I have had with shea work and to see and hear the work that other groups are doing.V. Training in village- the empowermentWith funds leftover from our village’s proposal for maternity materials, we were able to finance 4 days of training in Bassa. The first two days, 24 villagers (equally split between men and women) gathered at our 3-5 grade classroom and participated in a PACA workshop on Food Security. PACA stands for Participatory Analysis for Community Action and provides fantastic tools for truly understanding the issues our communities are facing. My homologue (Malian counterpart) and I had attempted co-facilitating this type of analysis soon after I had gained a decent understanding of Bambara and of my village only 6 months into my service. That analysis resulted in a short list of issues that Bassa villagers wanted to focus on during the two years I would be in Bassa. These priorities had included improvement of the village shea association and shea production practices, a maternity or health facility and exploring the possibility of large scale fish farming or chicken raising. As you know, we have continued with the shea and association improvements as well as the rural maternity project. In the spring of 2009, we did research the feasibility of large scale fish farming or chicken raising and found it to be an unviable option for income generation.During this PACA, we brought in an expert Malian facilitator and conducted a more thorough investigation. After almost a full day of presentation and conversation about local food security issues, the group began a self-critical study as to better know Bassa’s needs. They talked about many things and their relation to food security- from the health of the village to the lack of education options for young women. Food security means having access to nutritious food all the time, whether we produce that food ourselves or whether we can transport ourselves to a place and have the money purchase that food. Malians get once chance a year- during the rainy season- to produce the staple crops they need to survive through to the next harvest- all their corn, rice, millet, sorghum… and unfortunately the environment often throws in droughts or floods to make it even more difficult. Luckily, I have not yet seen a poor harvest during my time in Mali. But this does not mean that we shouldn’t prepare for the possibility that next year’s rains may not be sufficient. My community decided that they want to work on maintaining the environment, finding out how they can have a cereal bank or communal storage for excess grains and perhaps initiate a project to buy a new grinder for the village. By protecting the environment, they can increase crop yields, help preserve the soil’s nutrients and also stop deforestation (so the women will not have to walk so far in search of firewood for their kitchens). A building and system for communal grain storage will assist those who have excess and want to sell as well as those who are lacking and would like to buy. It keeps the surplus within the community instead of requiring them to travel to market. These prices are often lower because it cuts out of the many costs of transportation- for people and for the goods. This only emphasizes the many ways to improve food security. The new grinder would decrease the amount of time that women spend pounding and processing the grains they use in every meal. The current grinder in village is overworked and breaks down pretty often, leaving the women to pound the grains by hand or take their grains to the next town over and back; either of those alternatives would add at least an hour of work for the women.The PACA training also taught Bassa how to create and follow an action plan, which they did for the grinder option. They are currently preparing and thinking about how they would go about acquiring a grinder. This includes things like forming a committee, researching different types of mills/grinders and transportation costs to village, deciding whether it should be gasoline or diesel, where it should be in village, and devising the plan for who would run, maintain and manage the grinder. It has been wonderful to watch the community working together, motivated around this issue- let’s hope that it continues that way!The second two days of the training were for the maternity management committee, midwives, the relais or village health representatives, and other involved community members. It was an exercise in team-building, making sure we had definite, reachable goals; an idea about how to progress now that the rural maternity was open. As a result of this training, the committee decided they need to focus on developing the relationship between us and the local health network.The day following these trainings, we had one final presentation- a visit from the Office of Private Sector Initiatives- the PC office in DC that helped us connect with US donators for our maternity building project. For everyone that contributed to our Peace Corps Partnership Program, these are the people who made it possible. They, along with some PC-Mali staff, came to see how the project had progressed and asked questions about the process- both for me, the volunteer, and my village, the executors of the project. The OPSI staff were fun and laid back, so Bassa took the opportunity to display their strengths once again. The youth group Denkadi (which sang during the other celebration) was able to present their skit for these visitors. From there we had a small group of representatives from the maternity committee who answered the questions posed about the project. After, we all ate together! The visitors dug in with their hands to try our rice dish with onion and fish sauce (not my favorite). We took a tour around town and sent them on their way. We stood on the road and waved goodbye. It had been a strenuous, but stupendously successful, September.

Here are the pictures and a video from the day after we received 145 mm (and more) of rain. This is almost as at least as bad as the day I described last year, but it still amazes me how the one route we have to get out to the main road becomes a (sometimes impassable) river. We had been receiving small amounts of rain (1-2mm) pretty regularly since mid-June and our villagers were becoming worried about the crops they had planted (mostly corn, millet, sorghum and peanuts). This rain followed another significant rain and drenched the fields. I thought that this was just the storm we had been waiting for, but my farming friends said, "We needed all this rain, but not all at once!"

The water (over-)flooding the rice fields to the left.

This "dyke" was built back in 1985 and was meant to control the water flow in this area (completely dry most of the year). The idea was that this built up area could keep an adequate amount of water on the rice fields and allow the rest to pass without impeding transport from all of the villages that use Keleya as their portal to the main road. I think that after 25 years, there needs to be some reconstruction- local resources (including a construction team) have yet to be identified. I do not regularly encourage infrastructure construction as a solution to development issues, but knowing that roads like this (and worse) exist throughout Mali makes me advocate for at least a decent route to market (for the transport of goods), to health facilities (the transport of people), and to services, like government offices, youth clubs, and good schools (the transport and dispersion of ideas). Before the "dyke" was there, my villagers told me that they simply would not go to Keleya or would use a makeshift boat.

Here are two places the "dyke" has been overcome by the water it holds back on the left. The one in the foreground was relatively tame, but the other, moving much faster and being much deeper, pulled at my bicycle... and at me... (it took my host father's sandal). And yet, I watched 2 women cross with grace- with a punch-bowl full of shea nuts balanced on their head and another medium-sized bowl on their shoulder. I was amazed, but also upset that such effort needs to go into the collection of inputs for one of their best income-generating activities.

This is the "dyked" area in village next to fenced in garden-- the road to the next village is completely submerged under at least 1.5 ft of water. During dry season, men from my village will make bricks from the mud under the water in the picture.

Here's the video of the water. Take a listen to the frogs!

I'm headed on a trip to visit some other friends in West Africa. This will be my first time out of Mali (except for my trip home in winter) since I arrived. I hope to see Burkina Faso, Ghana and Togo over the next few weeks and share my stories after I return.

I can actually say that I've been ridiculously busy for the past 6 months, which is not something volunteers often get a chance to say. I'll take it for what it is and try to share everything that has been keeping me occupied. You can take it for what it is and try to get through this massive missive.

Over almost 2 months ago now, the electrician connected the solar panel to the lights in the maternity. Since then, the joint "rural birthing facility" has been complete in terms of structure; what remains has to do with the organization and functioning of the facility. With only a few delays and set-backs, this project verified my community's ability to rally around their cause and see it through to the end (at least of the first phase). A big thanks goes to my village counterpart for his endless hours of dedicated effort, for putting up with my stubbornness in refusing to do anything without a Malian co-facilitator, and for being patient when I became overly frustrated with things I could not control.

The completed maternity and laterines

I have been reluctant to write because of some of the difficulties we came upon. Before I start to recount the last few months, I would like to reassure you that despite all that has happened, I am still extremely encouraged by certain individuals, who act thoughtlessly and with unlimited dedication to the cause of their community's development. Mali is no different from other countries in the sense that some individuals are motivated, perservering and problem-solving... and some are not. I was lucky to be placed in a small village teeming with the first type of people, who surprised me whenever we came across what seemed to be an unfixable roadblock. These are the women who carried water each and every day to the worksite without question, the men who volunteered to take other people's places even if it wasn't their "team's" day to work. At the same time, I do not want to down play the struggles we've had- they are in no way a light matter, something to be excused or written off as frivolous problems one always encounters in developing countries. Thankfully, with the help of a new contact, the maternity project is back on track for its opening this fall.

Construction February and March

A group of men work on the maternity in the background while young men and boys move this year's cotton crop into the truck container that will be picked up by the cotton union. Cotton has become increasingly less profitable for Malians, with the unreliable market and fluctuating prices. Also, cotton removes so many nutrients from the soil, leaving it in a state that must be addressed with compost or other nutrient-adding fertilizers.

The building proceeded pretty smoothly and quickly; it was the small details that fell into place later on. The last pieces added were the ceiling, the colar panel and wiring and the painting of the inside. The painters had to wait for the electrician and the electrition had to wait for the carpenters who were installing the ceiling tiles. Getting all of these local laborers' schedules to match up was difficult- getting their transport and the transportation of their materials organized meant that this part took just as long as the actual construction. After it all, the building is much larger than I expected, providing the incentive to grow just as soon as the facility has the capacity and is well-established.

Here the painters mix the paint and concrete for the external walls. Orginally we had asked for a light yellow, but there was a misunderstanding and the color we ended up with was a sandy orange. It's probably for the best considering that this color will camoflauge the dirt and dust.

April and May

With that, the physically intensive aspects of the maternity were over and the village relaxed for a bit. But not for too long. All types of reconstruction and construction work consume the dry season (from November-May) since the rainy season is filled with agricultural tasks. That meant that as soon as they finished the maternity, they could move on to their other dry season priorities, including a well project and a small bridge. Last year, another NGO began working on a well located between the school and the maternity. The village dug out the well, but unfortunately a lack of funding mean that it could not be completed last year. With the contributions of many of my friends and family, the well has now been finished, just in time for rainy season. The process of well-digging is quite astonishing to me who knows nothing about construction. After the solidification of 15 huge cement and metal rings, the well-digger, with the help of our community members, were able to attach a thick cable to each ring in order to lower it into the well. These rings reinforce the walls of the well so that it does not collapse on itself. The top of the well is raised and covered with a pulley system, discouraging the school children from climbing on top of the well. Thankfully, this new well will provide much easier access to water, easing the amount of work for those involved with the maternity or with the school.

The well-digger sets the frame for the top of the well

Lowering a cement ring into the well

A cement ring and lots of water in the well! This muddy water will be removed before the clean water can fill in.When not concentrating on the community building projects, most villagers have building projects of their own- whether it be a new house, re-roofing an old house, the replacement of doors or windows, the list goes on. Most of these are constructed from mud bricks and natural materials found locally, which adds to the sustainability and natural cooling ability of the houses. Villagers draw the mud from an area on the outskirts of town that is a pond until December. The mud is then mixed with grasses and manure for bricks or just manure to be creped on the walls and floors. In order to ease access to the maternity for the villagers of our neighboring town of Folona, the two villages met each Tuesday to improve the road between the towns. There is an area that is perpetually washed out because of stream at the bottom of a hill. They have reinforced this bridge many times before, but this year's efforts were impressive. Bassa's villagers contributed the use of their donkey carts because the distance is shorter and easier to access for us. Folona contributed workers that placed the logs, large rocks and stones to fix the road. By building up the path and creating a place for the stream to run freely, everyone has high hopes for this version lasting longer than previous attempts.

Dry season is also cashew season. I cannot remember if I mentioned this last year, but I am amazed at learning how cashews (among many other things) actually grow. Before coming to Mali, I thought that cashews grew like peanuts, that they were a tuber that would be pulled from the ground. The United States is not a very good place for understanding the actual agricultural sources for our foods, which is sometimes a relief and sometimes makes me feel extremely ignorant. More about my love-hate relationship with the idea of grocery stores in my next entry. For now, just take a look at the cashew tree and the cashew fruit (that is super sweet and spongy). The fruit spoils pretty quickly, so it is a challenge to eat them all. The cashew itself, coated in a thick skin and somewhat-toxic oil, is removed from the top of the fruit to either sell or process. Many Malians have never roasted cashew themselves to eat because of the intensive process of burning off the oil around the nut. The oil around the cashew can burn or cause a serious reaction until it is completely cleaned. This oil is also flammable. Ater the cashew nut is actually extracted and cleaned, it is roasted and that is the final product we get in our can. Check out more about cashews here and start thinking how many foods that we take their acquisition for granted (A Perfect Storm...).

ConferencesMarch and April

In March, there were two large events held in Bamako that focused specifically on shea nuts and butter production in Mali. First was the International Shea Day, attended by a number local Malian women working to produce high-quality shea. There was a small fair for displaying Malian shea products and a number of speakers discussing the importance of gauranteeing quality control of the shea leaving Mali. Although Mali's shea exports are in the beginning stages, there is huge potential for it to improve the lives of the most rural (and some may argue, the most impoverished) Malian women.Shea exportation shows huge potential, but what I keep emphasizing to the women with whom I work is that they need to benefit from this shea more than anyone else. Yes, high-quality shea butter catches a pretty penny in the international market. However, this market, like all other markets, is not gauranteed or completely stable. To profit the most from this plentiful resource, they should make sure that their own needs are satisfied first. For example, many women have changed over most of their production with the hope of selling abroad. This is an important source of income for them, especially during the "hungry" time of the year. But it is also very important to realize what a place shea has in the good health habits of Malians. This is a high-calorie oil that they use in most of their meals, an oil that they can produce themselves instead of buying peanut or palm oil that is usually imported and much more expensive. Shea butter can be used lotion that smooths rough skin and heals small wounds. The shea leaves have other medicinal properties that Malians know and use. By focusing on improving shea trees, nuts and butter products for local consumption, Malian women can solve a number of problems without having to look abroad.This Shea Day was followed by an International Shea Conference put on by the West African Trade Hub. International producers, buyers, sellers, tranporters, researchers, and scientists attended, providing a wide variety of perpectives on all aspects of shea. As Peace Corps Volunteer working in shea, we were invited to assist with different aspects of the conference- I was asked to help with the registration of the conference participants, which provided a very interesting view of shea work in West Africa. It made me consider more about shea on a global scale rather than just in my village, in my region, or in Mali. Unfortunately, I was unable to attend many of the sessions to hear the most up-to-date shea news and how these people plan to take advantage of the innumerable benefits in shea- and to return these benefits to the women who produce it.In April, I co-directed a Shea NetWorkshop with the president of a the Malian Association for the Promotion of Young Women. Since I first arrived in Mali, I have had the luck to work very closely with this woman, who has supported and furthered important shea work in my village. Her job includes many activities, not only focusing on shea, but she has spent much time in trying to establish a well-functioning shea producers' network throughout Mali. This Workshop was meant to provide local women with a way to begin bridging the communication gap on shea, to share shea ideas, information and resources, and to empower these women to come together as one voice for shea. As shea efforts stand now, there are vast amounts of shea not being utilized because of a lack of coordination nationally. Although follow-up from the Workshop has been lacking (and that was kind of the point- to improve communication and follow-up), I hope that the attendees benefitted from learning about the national shea network and use their experience as a starting point for creating local networks. It is a work in progress than can improve with dedication to emphasizing the importance of shea in the everyday lives of Malian women.Conversation and Cooperation

March This year, we were able to hold a celebration in Bassa for International Women's Day. With the input of the women's association, we decided to present a skit on the value of girls' education, have a well-known and accomplished woman from Keleya come to speak, and to hold a cooking competition between 4 individuals-2 men and 2 women. And it was a man who won! Although it took a while to set-up, the final product was a fantastic day stressing the importance of cooperation within all types of relationships, whether it be husband and wife, student and teacher, friends or families. The women stuck around after the main activities to dance and to celebrate themselves. It was quite successful and everyone says how they cannot wait until next March 8th!

The judges for the cooking contest dig into the winning dish (one of the 4 traditional Malian dishes prepared) called zame, an oily and sometime spicy rice dish. Contriving SolutionsBack to the maternity... or should I say "rural birthing facility"? Perhaps it does not seem like a big qualifier, but it begins to explain the challenges we encountered. Since my community first mentioned their need and desire for a maternity, we've approached the local experts in health for advice and guidance. We have spoken extensively with the management at the Local Health Center (CSCOM) and the representative of the government's health ministry at the mayor's office (ASACO). We've only gone with open ears for recommendations on how to proceed, considering that Bassa knew little about how we, specifically, could become a part of the local health network. The last I wrote, we had sent my friend Ami for matron training beginning February 1st in the regional capital of Bougouni.

March and AprilAfter a number of set-backs in the matron trainings organized for a few village women, I became extremely discouraged, considering the possibility that the rural birthing facility (formally 'maternity') would not be opening any time soon. Bassa had fulfilled their contribution, as the rural birthing facility building was already complete. But now the young woman selected for matron training was returning to village- we had decide to help Ami withdraw from the training early.

Ami had spent 2 months receiving only 6 hours of formal training, which was not even close to fulfilling the written agreement we had signed with the doctor and formateur. I had no idea how we were to proceed after requesting that the money we had paid the Regional Health Center for half of the training (approximately $150) be returned. As I said, we had been working through the Local Health Center and branch of the health ministry, constantly asking for advice and guidance only to find out that we had been sent on far from the right path. It was so frustrating to see that after all our efforts to undertake this project within the local health network and legal framework, we were basically having to start over again.

Supposedly, the health branch of the government had given us written legal permission to construct the maternity when they should not have. Technically, under the law, maternities cannot be built within 15 km from each other. Then we found out that the leadership at the Local Health Center had not requested the correct approval from the Regional Health Center. Finally, the training for the matron would not provide her with the knowledge base to become a certified matron. Had Bassa discovered these details a year earlier when they initially began this project, many of these issues could have been avoided. But unfortunately in April, we were not on anyone's good side and needed to be in order to gain access to informational or material resources. Who could we trust after a year of receiving misinformation? We were out of ideas about the correct way to function within the local health structures.

We approached the new management at the Local Health Center who said that much had gone off-track, but they would try their best to help us back into the good graces of the Regional Health Center. In the meantime, they were expecting us to find a new training for the young woman. There are health schools throughout Mali, but knowing which one would be appropriate for our woman would take some more work. We held multiple health committee meetings to discuss the next steps. At one of these meetings, the health committee secretary reminded us of a woman who had visited village after returning from her pilgrimage. Her husband was a good friend of someone from Bassa. She herself was trained in health and has been the promotrice for a number of health schools for some time. We did not know exactly how she could assist us, but we were looking for new advice. Within a week of requesting her to come for a visit, she arrived in Bassa.

Contacts, Communication, and CompromiseApril and May

We held a large meeting at which we presented our situation to Madame Sangare. Before arriving, she had already stopped by the Local Health Center to discuss their point of view. She had us tell her everything that had occurred and then she proposed her ideas. In general, she said that she was very pleased how the work was progressing- how the health and management committees were functioning and how the building looked. Had we been working together from the beginning, she would have changed a few things, but now she just wanted to pick up from where we were. She said that if necessary, she could arrange a special training for our village matron that would cover all the topics she would need and allow her to open the rural birthing facility within the year. Madame Sangare asked that we send an older woman (my host mother, Babintou) from village to formal training and make some additions to the building. Then, she agreed to talk to both the Local Health Center and Regional Health Center on our behalf in order to straighten things out; and that's exactly what happened.

Madame Sangare was able to right our relationship with the Regional Health Center. Although we were not on good terms after removing the young woman from the 'training' and because we had not properly informed the Regional Health Center of our intentions, Madame Sangare clarified the situation. She arranged the training for the older traditional birthing attendant and insisted that the Regional Health Center allow the trained attendant to open the rural birthing facility after her course. Bassa would then follow-up with all of the necessary authorities. Just before that time, the Regional Health Center had sent message that they would not approve the opening of the rural birthing facility, but Madame Sangare was able to convince them otherwise, proposing a compromise and saying that she would act as our representative, advocating for Bassa and beginning a new relationship, providing the support that the facility needs.

With permission from the Regional and Local Health Centers to move ahead, we made arrangements and sent the my host mother to her refresher course. Bassa continued developing their relationship with the local health network and with Madame Sangare. It was not long after that Madame Sangare told us the good news- that she would sponsor the Ami for her yearlong matron training in Bamako! In addition, Madame Sangare agreed to attend the opening of the rural birthing facility in the fall and to work with the village to start it off on the right foot with good habits and clear plan for the future.

I now know the importance of stressing local connections. It was fantastic to follow 'all the right steps' for working within the Malian system, but having even another expert on your side helps you improve networks as well as strengthen relationships through the use of a third party. Although I had thought that I was properly including my community members in all steps when developing the project, I never expected that some of the authorities could also take advantage of the Malians (and not just my lack of knowledge), that we would need an additional advocate for the village. Always expand networks and connections as much as possible- you'll find that some go no where and you'll find that others help you when you have no where else to go.

ContinuingJune and beyondMy host mother will complete her traditional birthing attendant training at the end of July and come back to open the rural birthing facility in August or September. Until then, the health committee will be doing the best they can with the management details- setting prices, procuring materials and medicines, developing a business plan and spreading the word! Although the communities intend to start off slowly, they also have plans for expanding, making this facility as multiple-purpose as possible.

The rainy season has started and that means the return of agricultural work (people have begun plowing and planting) and shea work. Agricultural work takes a lot of time and effort and everyone is involved, so that leaves few opportunities for meetings and large projects. Currently, I am attending a training on Association Building and Food Security issues with two of my villagers. Bassa plans to focus on our needs to gaurantee food security in village as our next project and this training has provided a good base for thinking about the best way to address food security our specific issues. We completed a Food Security survey with 10 households back in March that revealed a true to concentrate on possible solutions.

After making it through what I would consider the most challenging few months of my Peace Corps service, I decided to extend my service for 6 months at my site until March 2011. I will be staying to complete and strengthen the projects on which we are currently working and those that we plan to undertake. I also hope to extend in order to transition with the health volunteer to replace me from the new volunteers arriving for training in February 2011.

Specifically, during this extension we will be opening and establishing the rural birthing clinic already built in village. By encouraging good habits from the beginning, the villagers of Bassa will prepare for the new volunteer's installation in April 2011 and the trained matron's planned arrival in September 2011. In addition, Bassa is looking forward to continuing our relationship with Madame Sangare as we look to improve the health of Bassa.

We plan to continue assisting the women's association on their organizational development and income-generating activities (including shea, pottery and soumbala). After a few years of working together with mediocre results, the association has taken the initiative to do an in-depth self-analysis and the results look promising for this year. As one of our Small Enterprise Development trainers says, we are moving from the "storming" to the "norming" stage of organizational development. This fall, we would like to invite this trainer to come to Bassa for an association building training to emphasize that we are going in the right direction. The shea association has also reorganized with the hope of expanding production and better networking with the surrounding communities.

June 8-10 I attended our "Close of Service" Conference at a hotel in Bamako with all of the volunteers I came to Mali with in July 2008 who are still left. The conference marked the beginning of our group's departures from Mali. Congratulations to my fellow HoBOs! My time in Mali would not have been as enjoyable without the continual support from my volunteer friends. I still will be returning to the US for my best friend's wedding this November and then come back to Mali for the final stretch. While it is difficult to realize that I will be staying here and watching everyone else go, I think that my extension is the perfect opportunity for a successful closure to my service.

I'm still working on that super-long entry, but here are a few pictures in the meantime:

A dust devil tearing through town. They are pretty common during hot/dry season.

The travelling camel riders in Bassa for the afternoon- some are salesmen, some are just travelling through Mali by camel, and some (understandably) don't like having their picture taken up-close.

My first (and last) cucumbers from my plot in our community garden-- someone stole the rest of my delicious harvest...

A balafon (large xylophonish instrument) player came to village for a night of dancing!

Did you know that in order for cement to properly form and solidify, to be structurally sound and strong that it must be watered? Of course all of my engineer, water sanitation and otherwise technically inclined compatriots are shaking their heads in disappointment. Well, I'm sorry I didn't. When they told me to budget in a community contribution for barrels upon barrels of water, I took their word. And now I wish I could have given them more credit for the amount of water they are using and physical labor associated with carrying gallons of water on your head for quite a distance. Watering cement is just one of the things that I've learned about during the last 3 weeks at the construction site of Bassa and Folona's joint community maternity. I know I owe you all a nice, lengthy, informative post- and it is in the works, I promise. For now, take a peek at how this project is proceeding. So far, everyone is well pleased.

Preparing the site and outlining the foundation.

A woman from our association empties her tub of water onto the cement/sand mixture that produced the first bricks. While the men are helping the mason with the construction, the women are diligently carrying water to the work site each day.

The first brick!

Making the bricks. Along the road, you can also see a line of water-carriers.

Everyone comes with whatever container they are able to carry without spilling. In the background, the women take turns filling their containers at the pump.

The village imam and my host uncle watering the bricks while one of the oldest men in village stands by and directs.

The hole being dug for the pit-latrine. Seriously. Hard. Work.

This is the picture I left with on Sunday morning. Since it was Sunday, some of the school children wanted to come and help out, so they were carrying bricks and gathering stones and in general, loving being a part of the process. I am sure that by now it is even more complete than this, leaving the roofing, the furniture, doors, windows and other randomness to fill in.

Okay... so I have to get back to site and transport is leaving from the auto-gare (bus station) pretty soon. Forgive me for the gap in the photos... I left out the actual building process pictures because of lack of time (and the connection keeps cutting out). I hope that you have at least a basic idea of how it is going. If all goes well, the next entry will be too long for one sitting.

1. School is in session (fewer screaming children)

2. Lots more corn and rice instead of just millet

3. Better vegetables in our sauces

4. Getting a good night's sleep in the cool air

5. Talking with friends late into the night next to a fire

6. Having to wear multiple layers to bike in to market in the early morning

7. Leaving a water bottle outside over night and waking to have it refrigerator cold

8. Perfectly clear night skies and better than planetarium stars

9. Sleeping in because everyone thinks it's tooo cold to get up before 7

10. Getting to enjoy hot drinks

It was just last Thursday that the villagers of Bassa and Folona broke ground for their joint community maternity. After only a short month and a half of fundraising, over 100 generous contributors donated the total amount of around $7,500. I seriously think the giving time may be a new record. Yesterday was the happy conclusion of months of anticipation and planning. The planning and organization will continue, but it is a break from the anxious waiting to "get to work" and put our ideas into action.

Aw ni ce Aw ni baara

A huge thanks goes out to everyone who contributed to our project and to everyone who has supported our efforts in other ways. Like I've written before, we're are just getting started with this- only one step toward the long term goal of improving maternal health in the region. There are new pictures, but I'm too nervous to use my USB in this virus-infected computer in this internet cafe where I'm writing from.

Happenings

In the time between the last entry and now, much has happened: Thanksgiving, Eid (Tabaski), preparation for the new volunteers' In-service Training, the passing of a host brother, and going home to the United States of America. For Thanksgiving, I invited 5 of my closest friends from village over for a Malian variation of the Thanksgiving theme (think: using millet as a carb substitute). It was deliciously thankful. Malian sweet potatoes may just taste better- even without brown sugar. Eid is the yearly celebration of the story of Abraham and his son, Isaac. As in Christianity, the story reminds us of the value of unquestioning faith. Here, we celebrate in many ways that Abraham's decendants became as numerous as the stars, especially by slaughtering and feasting on lots of delicious mutton. My host brother passed away in a tractor accident while working to 'find money' in Algeria- as of now, there are at least 8 of our young village men who have left for Algeria. More about this later when I'm typing on an English keyboard and the keys are in the places I'm familiar with.

After a week of greiving with my host sister-in-law, I left for home. Home, home. I was lucky enough to spend two amazing weeks with my extremely supportive family and friends in America. This meant Christmas and the New Year and putting on 16lbs by eating delicious food- lots of cheese and other delicacies that are difficult to find here in Mali. I returned without my checked bag that had been misplaced in transit through Chicago. Other than that, my vacation went relatively smoothly. I waited 3 days in Bamako, making me even more excited to get back to site, until my duffel surfaced. It was a fantastic feeling, knowing that even after such a pleasant time at home that I could still be excited to return. My time (and long hot indoor showers) was more rejunvenating than I could have ever expected.

Here's the link again if you don't want to wade through that last post:

Bassa's Maternity ProjectThe way this program works, each donation made to the above address will be added up until we reach our goal. Technically, I cannot say that so-and-so bought this or that for the maternity, but I definitely think it's so much more fun to visualize. I'll try to give photo updates of the building as soon as it gets started. To get started, we need to talk about funding.The total is just over $7,614. That means that if we even got 76 people to donate $100 each... but I know, the economic crisis is still going on and many of you, my friends, are poor college students. We'll just lay it out easy, starting at the foundation.

-A donation of $5 will cover the cost of a brick. And we need them!

-We want it to be pretty, so $10 will cover each day's labor for a painter.

-Next up is $15 metal sheet roofing, if that just about covers it for you.

-Or $16 is for our mason. He'll be our main go to guy and he needs to get paid well.

-If $20 is your ceiling, each ceiling tile is $20.

-It would brighten my day if you wanted to donate $25 for the lighting and wiring.

-I would sleep well at night knowing that someone gave $25 for a mattress ($50 for 2!)

-Those mattresses aren't much good without a bed. It's good they each only cost $75!

-Also, the maternity will have to breathe without doing Lamaze, so if you contribute $75, we'll put in a window.

-Let's take a rest, a nice bench is sitting at $85.

Don't let that discourage you from contributing more!

-Leading to Bassa's future, a door is $100.

-The battery (for the solar panel) at $175 keep me going.

-For the paint itself, $200. Who would have known paint was so expensive!

-Loving the sun here (not getting burnt), the solar panel is $300.

-For all the masonry or carpentry, their work works out to be $500.

-You'd be a big supporter if you provided for a $750 wall.

-I'm not full of poop when I say that the latrines cost $1,500.

There are other things I haven't mentioned and much of that is the community's own contribution. They'll be supplying the rocks and gravel and much of the unskilled labor going into this project. There's a lot yet to be done, so please help us out by taking a few minutes to visit this address and donate! Or you can go to www.peacecorps.gov, click "donate" and then enter my last name (Snider) or the project number (688-319).

Bassa's Maternity Project

In preparation for black Friday, I've prepared my own commercial with the hottest of items for this holiday season. The selling points include

the price is whatever you want it to be,

it is tax deductible,

there are no lines to wait in, no parking spaces to find,

and even after Christmas, it won't go out of style.But that's not all!The best part is that you'll be helping a small village in Mali, West Africa accomplish one of its community initiated projects for its own development.

This is simply a basic video of the outlay of village, with our beautiful village mosque in the background. For those of you whose media players won't allow my video message, here's the transcript (sung a cappella with a cold):

I'll be home for Christmas, you can count on me. Please have snow (but not a lot) and no Malian toh (a food I eat every day), as for presents on the tree (I'd much rather that you make a contribution to our community maternity, see the details below!!!). I'll be home for Christmas, not only in my dreams.Check out our project and make a donation by following this link:Bassa's Maternity Projector by going to www.peacecorps.gov, clicking "donate," and then entering either my last name (Snider) or the project number (688-319).

Since I arrived in Bassa last September and began working with the women's association, they have consistently mentioned their need for a clean, safe place to give birth. Currently, children come into this Malian world in the unsanitary conditions of a village hut floor, often by lamp light and with the help of our aging birthing attendants. This definitely is not to say that the children are presently doomed to bad beginnings, as the two women who assist are amazingly experienced and trusted- they have seen most everything in their days (one of them is my host mother, Babintou). But just because they are successful does not make village births any easier. And my host mom has already asked for help from younger eyes and hands that can complement her experience. As you know, I have yet to bring a child into the world, but I can only imagine the (non)choice when labor begin between a mud-creped floor and a 8 km (5 mile) sojourn on a bike path to the nearest health center (by motorcycle or donkey cart). Just look back a blog post or two and see how great that path is during rainy season.

The average Malian woman has 7 children (yes, average) and is expected to work up to the day of child birth and to resume a week after. Work is defined by hard physical labor, like carrying more than 30 liters (that's 8 gallons) of water on her head from the pump to her concession enough times to fill a metal barrel. And then do that work with a child strapped to your back. I would do anything to ease the most important and difficult moments of these mother's lives. Although we are only a town of 500 people, over the last year we've seen 20 children born. We are lucky that all children have been happy and healthy, but I cannot even count the stories I've heard about children lost during childbirth-- most women have lost at least one, some two, some three-- that I can't imagine.

We also have the support of the village men- they mentioned a maternity as one of their community priorities. These are their wives and their children. Providing them with a maternity means providing them with an avenue to safe beginnings. The men have played an integral part in the organization and planning of the project: searching for the perfect 1 hectare (2.5 acre) location with aspirations for expanding the basic maternity facilities to include a garden and related buildings to address other village health needs. It was their idea to invite our "twin city" Folona to join us, as they live only 1.5 km (less than a mile) away and with the same lack of proper facilities. Their population of around 1,500 promises to be a great addition to our community's skills.

You might have noticed that the proposal includes the construction costs, some furniture and a solar panel and lighting. In reality, this project extends to include the training of a matron and another birthing attendant and all of the necessary maternity materials (such as a birthing table, a scale, scissors, ya know...). The two young women to attend the trainings were specifically chosen by the community and have been practicing for when their time comes to study. Their literacy and extended studies is something they contribute to the current birthing attendants. As a village, we've decided on committees to work for the management, upkeep and further development of the maternity, followed up with priorities for each of these groups. By developing the necessary relationship with Malian health network, we're doing all we can to insure the correct start for this maternity.

Mes Ami(e)sThe french for my "(female) friends" is the same as a common Malian name- Ami (short for Aminata). Ironically, the two women chosen to go for training are both Amis and, appropriately, my good friends. Both of them are mothers. Both of them are younger than me. Both are family, as they are married to or the sister of one married to my host brothers (one in Bassa and the other in Keleya with my original host fam). Much of the planning process has been prepping these ladies for training. With their new skills, they will complete our maternity project and assist this community toward better health. Since they will not be matron each day of the year, the rest of their time will be used for other health needs, writing their reports, nutrition, etc. and eventually a children's garden with vitamin-rich fruits, veggies, leaves and seeds. We know that a building itself cannot do the work- that's why mes amies were appointed.

On Our Way Out

This project has been in the works for a long time (9-months, maybe...). I feel that every time I speak with my parents I say, "next week, just wait until next week!" After a number of setbacks, next week has become this week and Bassa is still motivated, energized to begin construction and send the young women to their trainings. Granted, I know that the difficulties are far from over, as this is volatile world we live in. Here in Mali, many things run slower than the jumbo snails making their way through the thick forests. I'm glad to say that I've seen just how difficult this is that now I realize how people get discouraged along the way. By training these women and constructing a building, we're giving the villagers of Bassa an opportunity to address serious health inadequacies that prevent them from living the most productive life possible. Healthy children can attend school, healthy adults can work, and healthy mothers make good choices for their children- healthy individuals are happy individuals. Although I'm a Small Enterprise Development volunteer, I've really seen the implications of unhealthy individuals trying to work. As a volunteer living in a tiny community, I realized (more like hoped) that our development efforts would include not only business-related projects, but projects that truly addressed what the village needs and desires the most. The maternity will be income-generating to reinvest in itself and provide villagers the ability to address other health priorities. Especially with the current discussion on health care in the US right now, I'm sure you can justify helping with even the most basic improvements for this community's health and sanitation.

That's what has been keeping me busy during the conclusion of rainy season- really since the beginning of rainy season and promised to keep me busy through the end of my service. As soon as the financing for this project arrives, construction materials will be bought, transported to site for work to begin. Of course, until that point we will be preparing- preparing the land by clearing the site, settling down the rules and regulations for use of the maternity- Preparing to be busy. If all goes right, the trainings and building will begin by February so that mes ami(e)s will be graduated by the time the building is completed (or soon after). I have confidence that we're on our way!

So, no, a village maternity is not a hippopotamus, but it's still my wish for this community where I live, work, play and love. Tell your family and friends, your coworkers and classmates, that even the smallest contribution will make a real difference for Bassa. This project will help them reach their goals for the improvement of village health and will inspire the confidence necessary to undertake similar development projects. I could not think of a better Christmas present.

Really. If one of your fears is snakes, please please please do not look below. As a distraction, I've added this lovely picture of a dead scorpion in my house being taken away by thousands of ants. Although I'm not a fan of scorpions, I would kill another one just to see these little guys go at it again.

I've been saving these pictures out of fear that my father would instantly renege on his promise to come visit me. For anyone in communication with my father, don't tell him you saw this or he won't be travelling to Africa next January.

A close up of its skin.

It was a 8.5 feet long boa constrictor that found its way into my host family's concession for a late evening snack of baby chicks. I do not live with this family, but I arrived at breakfast one morning to find this sprawled out in front of my normal eating place. The night before, my host grandma, Ma, had returned from the center of town to find the chickens making more than a normal ruckus in the building where they sleep. She bravely took her flashlight out to investigate and did a double take as she saw the boa slithering toward the next poor chick. She ran to get our neighbor, a hunter with a gun, because she knew that this type of snake is dangerous to approach with anything but a 10 ft pole. They said that this one wasn't full grown (WHAT!?) and other forest dwelling boas usually steal baby sheep, not chickens. Regardless, I'm glad that it didn't make its way to MY concession to catch the chickens that run amok there. Yes, these big snakes are real, and yes, they can be a threat to people, if the people step on their turf at the wrong time. I've only seen a few vipers and other venomous snakes around, mostly during rainy season when they hide out in the tall grass to munch on mice or lizards. But all the villagers are on top of their game when it comes to snakes and see them way before I do. Not to fear. Then again, for those of you who read my post "The Heart of Shrinky," this is why I was most afraid of two small children wandering around the forests alone at night.

So go back a few entries (to Riding Against the Current) and make a comparison. I didn't have my camera the actual day when this is the area almost whisked by bike away. Think knee deep (this is ankle deep) and moving relatively fast (considering the small area it has chosen to flow from one side of the dike to the other...). The middle picture shows the area full with water that is completely dry (already) today and therefore our non-rainy season bike path.

One of my first village friends was a 1 1/2 year old named Basolo. We met when he tottered away from his concession to the center of town and was crying. I hadn't yet become acquainted with which children belonged to which house, so we walked around for a while hand in hand until he pointed me to his mom. He wore a red sweater with a picture of a mouse and the subtitle "the Heart of Shrinky". Now, I've seen strange t-shirts here (San Diego zoo, Jesus loves me more than you, etc), but that one stuck with me.

After that initial meeting, I came to appreciate the children that lived at that concession. They were always quick to greet me politely and with a big smile, not asking for anything except a smile in return. This concession's children were the ones I could tolerate the best, most likely because of their relatively small number. When I got tired of the chaos of my host family or homologue's house, I would make my way to sit in the Heart of Shrinky's concession to read, write or play.

Just this last week, I think I was the most scared that I've been since arriving in Mali. After returning from our shea butter sale in Bamako on Tuesday afternoon, I was informed that Basolo and his older sibling, Safi, had gone missing since around noon that day. Their parents and other villagers had been keeping their eyes out since then, hoping this 2 1/2 year old and 3 1/2 year old would wander back, but now the sun was about to set and they were still no where to be found. They say that children often get lost this time of year and during rainy season when the grass is high and the crops like corn and millet are not yet harvested. But never before was it children this young. Before the village was called to safo prayer (around 7:30pm), the village chief made an announcement over the mosque's loud speaker, "The children are yet to be seen."

Who had been the last to see them? When? Where? The thought was that they had left to try to find their family working far out in the fields. Usually the village keeps good track of its children, but Basolo and Safi must have slipped away. How, when people had been going back and forth between the village and fields all afternoon? Even I had ridden my bike on the main path that afternoon- others had walked from Keleya and even other had left village to go to Keleya and yet no one had seen them. Well, perhaps they hadn't taken that path.

Flashlights came out in numbers; our neighboring community, Folona's hunters joined our villagers with their rifles for an attempt to search the vast forests surrounding our town, Bassa. The village women searched every inch of town, looking behind doors, under grain storage untis and in Basolo and Safi's favorite places to play. Some people thought of the worst and checked the uncovered wells and ditches where the children could have fallen, also in the bog and fishing hole still filled with water. Not to mention the possibility of injury or the threat of scary forest-living animals. By 10 pm, cold had set in- probably the mid-60s, but that's freezing in comparison to the day high of 95. And we're nearing the new moon, meaning pitch dark until the early hours of the morning. Without extra clothing, dinner, any kind of light, Basolo and Safi were in the Malian wilderness alone. I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders as we sat on watch at the entrance to town.

About midnight, some of the villagers had returned to their houses for a few uncomfortable hours of shut eye. Others stayed up through the night with the hope that the hunters would come back with the children in hand. Others said the children were in Allah's hands. Early the next morning, the message from the mosque was the same- still not found.

While someone called the radio stations in the area, the rest of the village split off to search the forests once again, this time in light. Many people said that even if the hunters had passed them last night it was quite possible they didn't see them considering that they might have been asleep on the forest floor. I went with my host mom, Babintou, and the children's grandmother to search the fields south of town. Two hours, three hours passed that way.

It was lunch time when a motorcyclist entered town with Basolo and Safi behind-- and a village parade behind it. We all streamed out from our respective concessions where we had been taking a break in order to then congregate at their family's concession. Many people cried with joy as the mosque announced their return. 24 hours had elapsed from the last time they'd been seen, with a good portion of that time in darkness. I get frightened sometimes, just walking to the edge of town at night. These two toddlers walked over 6 km to spend the night alone in the woods. They were found on a road that runs from another brousse town at an angle 45 degrees from ours. There are no direct paths that connect these road except when passing through other villages. Some villagers are sure that a spirit must have taken them at least part of the way- because 6 km for a 3 year old is a marathon. I, myself, am not yet convinced, but it's hard to believe that they crossed paths with no one that afternoon or evening.

Regardless of how they got there, they have come back and with that relief, I swear the entirety of Bassa went inside for a long and restful midday nap.

It seems ironic that during the two months that I was actually in Bamako with decent internet services, I wrote no blog entries and uploaded no photos. Perhaps it's a testament to how much I was working at the new volunteers' Pre-service Training (PST) or perhaps it's a reflection of the general malaise that arises with me spending extended periods of time in front of a computer (I'm not sure how you do it, Matt). Regardless, apologies for the hiatus and for the lack of photos meant to accompany this entry; I left my camera cord at site and my usually trustworthy USB/SD jack is faltering. Hopefully, it won't be long before I am able to update this in color.

Riding Against the Current

The rainy season has earned its name with record rainfall in some parts of Mali. Where we were, we received over 121 mm (approx. 5 inches) of rain in 12 hours, which does not even compare to the 300 mm (almost a foot!) of rain that they got in Burkina Faso. My homologue and I had planned to travel the 8 km to our market town to speak with the Chef de Poste at the CSCOM or local health center to make plans for our village project (I promise to write more on this just as soon as I can). We covered up in our rain jackets, stuffing extra plastic bags in the pockets to cover our backpacks and other goods on the return trip. We mounted our bikes and began the trip on the now mud/wet sandy road that is our one possible route to leave village for a main gudron (paved road). This trip usually takes 30 minutes in the dry season with only the occasional pot holey, gravely section or hot persistent sun to delay us. This day it took at least a hour and 15 minutes, plus or minus a few moments of my complete shock at the amount of water on our road.

I usually enjoy the trek from village to market, often feeling that biking isn't the worst method of transport available and believing that automobiles really aren't a better solution for the movement of people and goods. This day's experience, however, has allowed me to face this contentedness that has been brewing. Now I ask myself if my enjoyment of this mode of transportation is purely because of my lack of necessity- my acceptance in the knowledge that after my two years of service, this will not be my reality of everyday living. I have a choice where my fellow villagers do not. If someone was sick or needing to leave our village, this- walking, riding a bike, motorcycle or donkey cart- would be the only option. And I did it in full health, with an amazing bicycle, no child on my back or goods to get to market.

We were honestly riding against the current of this river that had previously been our road. At one point, we dismounted when the water was too high so that we could wade across a section of the dike. This dike, created with the very purpose of providing a way to leave 3 villages, is in dire need of repair or complete replacement. I asked my host mother what they did before it was there and she said there was a small raft they would use. If you look to my previous entries, this was the area I referred to as "the troubled bridge over waters" and then I couldn't imagine just how troubled it could be. After my homologue removed his sandals and I tightened my Chacos, we braved the rushing stream of water flowing over the usual path. Afraid as my bicycle was being pulled from my grasp, I asked my homologue to help me place it back on the rocky ground (under a foot and a half of water). He demonstrated with his own bike the best way to stabilize the bike at the same time as we moved forward. We made it safely to the main road, accomplished our tasks, and then waited for the afternoon, in hope that water would have receded with the end of the storm.

(These are two pictures of the dike taken from the path that you can ride during dry season. When my other SD is working, I'll provide you with pictures of when this entire area is FULL of water and moving over the dike. Use your imagination until then and listen to "Have You Ever Seen the Rain" by Creedance Clearwater Revival) This metaphor seems extremely fitting for much of the situations faced here (so forgive its corniness)- that my friends and family members in Mali are riding on not-so-great bicycles in the midst of ever-changing circumstances or the unnecessary and unexpected current. A bike is not the best option for traversing muddy paths completely submerged in water, but is the best option currently available. To make it out, one must trust one's memory of the road, the reliability of transport, one's own determination, and make up for the rest with a good sense of humor. It's hard not to become discouraged- that even after the valiant efforts by the local government and the hard manual labor by those who often use the road- still not enough gets done to keep up with the constant deterioration of the road, let alone to stand for improvements. To think that this is only one of the thousands of examples of inadequate infrastructure and definitely not the worst.

I'm not quite sure what the appropriate solution would be to solve these issues or where to start, because it seems many questions need to be asked: do you begin with providing improved methods of transportation to deal with the poor road, or work at fixing the road itself? with what technology should the road be fixed? should they start at the dike? what are the appropriate materials for such work? would it be better to look at making broussey villages self-sustaining so they wouldn't have to rely on this road so much? whose responsibility is all this? And you can't blame the rain when you live in a place that droughts happen so often.

My Malian friends are doing the best that they can given what they have, but often it still does not adequately address their needs. Like I said, there is not even a choice to have. Where I find biking the 22 km to my banking town fun and amusing way to avoid having to pay 350 CFA (all the while singing all parts of the ND Glee Club's version of "Beautiful Rain"), they find it a necessity. And when the natural bridge that connects us to the next village falls because of the Noah's Ark amount of rain, there is no choice but to bike the 6 km detour in hope that the next bridge is accessible or retrace the already treacherous path back to the main road, pray for a vehicle to pass and take you 11 km, to then bike the 8 km into brousse (and hope that the dike isn't flooded...). When I write about the inadequacy of these routes, it is only after having unconvinced myself that the path was more than sufficient for the transportation and travel needs of these communities. My detour was only briefly inconvenient, while the same detour for my homologue made him late for a meeting that he still ended up attending wearing sopping wet clothes, although we left plenty early and plenty prepared (internal play list changes its track to REO Speedwagon and "Riding the Storm Out").

In addition, most women do not own bicycles and therefore find themselves either at the whim of a mototigi who often charges outrages fees, the mobilitigi who comes once a week on market day and has a limited number of places for our village and the surrounding villages, or their own two feet and the possible elements to be encountered during the 2 hour walk. So their "riding against the current" becomes an attempt to "run/jump/swim against the current" when none of those activities are taught or even encouraged for young women. It seems that there's just so much that they are up against (re-enter CCR and "Who'll Stop the Rain").

And yet my homologue, as an representative of the others, was helping me through this with a smile on his face; a smirk sometimes, when he snickered at my amazement and general ineptness at voyaging across the flooded paths. "Just grin and bear it" seems to be the motto for so much. Although we are riding bikes against the upstream against innumerable currents present here (malaria, corruption, illiteracy, poor infrastructure, etc), we are doing it as a team, knowing that we want to return to make sure that others can make it as well or providing them with new options and letting them decide the best solution. Perhaps bikes are not the best way to ford the river, but truthfully, cars would not be any better. Realizing that not all technology is directly applicable or appropriate will help us determine which questions need to be addressed first. Until then, we'll take things as they come, keeping optimistic in the face of being pulled downstream. Leave it to say, we're not drowning. It would just be better not having to use our tires as floatation devices in the first place.

Last week, exactly a year after our July 9th arrival, I returned to Bamako in preparation for the new stage of Peace Corps trainees. Along with the help of some of my best PCV friends, our Associate Peace Corps Director (APCD) and others, I will be co-facilitating some training sessions for the 2009-2011 Small Enterprise Development volunteers. We will be back at the training center, Tubaniso, again and also visiting the trainees in their homestay villages in order to provide the best mixture of structured and experiential learning. Although I can hardly believe that I have completed one full sky (the Bambara word is the same for “year”), I am more than excited to share my experiences with the hope that all can benefit, including myself. Our group has brought along a refreshing outlook that will provide me with inspiration for reevaluation one year in.

Mali’s north country

Since I last wrote, I have spent most of my time either in my village or traveling around Mali. My trip to the northern part of the country was amazing- I got to visit some of my fellow volunteers and their actual work places in addition to the more touristy hot spots. It seems that every time I leave site I am stunned by the phenomenal diversity of Mali. Before arriving a year ago, I honestly never expected to experience such a vast variety of peoples, cultures, languages, beliefs, or environments. And then here I am, traveling through the Sahara, the largest and most well-known desert on earth. (FYI, Mali is 65% desert or semi-arid desert, who would have known!) Regardless of where I was in Mali, I was able to greet at least a few people in Bambara, allowing me to feel very welcome and a part of something larger, like the trade network that has been established throughout West Africa since who knows when. That might sound somewhat ridiculous, but this connection was reinforced when part of my original homestay family from my first months as a trainee, who moved out to Gao over 20 years ago, came to meet and greet me as I waited for my bus back to Bamako.

This is the "Dune Rose" located just outside of Gao. Since the Niger River is so low at the end of the hot season, we walked a good distance on the dry river bed before being able to take boat across. We hiked to the top, like at the Michigan dunes, but this dune is so absolutely gorgeously pink that it almost looks like a fake background, n'est-ce pas? The city of Gao is far in the distance behind us and you probably wouldn't be able to tell. Lots of little villages line the Niger (like the one in the background to our left) and some are only accessible by water. I hope to someday travel at least part of the Niger by boat.Now I've been to both the equator (when in Uganda) AND the prime meridian (out in Gao). We drove by the "Hand of Fatim" which is a rock structure that juts strangely out of the desert. Some people like to rock climb there, but I just enjoyed seeing the strange formation in Hombori, between Douentza and Gao.If you want to check my travels out on a map, I made it out to a city called Gao in the northeastern part of the country. I passed through Mopti to Douentza to Gao. I really enjoyed the feel of the northern cities, although I prefer the lushness of Sikasso’s flora. Of course I believe that I could have survived well had I been placed up north a year ago, but I cannot be more thankful for the community that I have become a part of where I now live. My friend (who soon will be moving to Bamako for the next year!) and I rode back the 18ish hours from Gao to Bamako together. For the most part, I would describe my travels as “remarkable mishap-less”—no buses broke down, got flat tires, or had any ridiculous riders to disturb the voyage. I’m thinking about asking some of the engineers here to explain just how roads are built on and next to the sand dunes of the north. Two weeks away from my real host families made me anxious to return to my Bambara-speaking home.

I ni faama, sa! (It’s been a while)

With the shea season and rainy season officially underway as of recent (it has actually been a little late, which has delayed the beginning of planting and field work in my community), the groups with whom I have been working decided it would be best to focus on planning rather than developing infrastructure. The women’s association is communicating with the communities surrounding my village that were also trained at our formation in April. At one point I biked over 200 km in a week to visit and do follow-up trainings in 6 additional towns. Some of the trainings went much better than others, with attentive and active participants who asked lots of questions. It is my village’s hope that they will be prepared when the time comes to buy either well-processed shea nuts or butter from the communities in an attempt to refine and then sell their higher quality product. Again, the difficulty lies in properly sun drying and then storing the boiled nuts during the unbearably humid and wet rainy season. I went si tomono (shea fruit picking) with two of my younger host sisters. It is their daily Easter egg hunt with only green and brown eggs-- either shea with the fruit still on or not. If the fruit is still on, it makes a nice snack for when you want to take a break. This picture is only of the smaller container that they can carry by balancing on their heads. For the women my age, picture them steadying a flat bottomed punch bowl full of golf balls with one hand, all the while squatting to pick up two or three more golf balls and throwing them on top. Each time I see them returning from the forest (sometimes three times a day), I am astonished. It is truly an extraordinary feat.

While at my site, I assisted a few groups to complete basic feasibility studies for the activities they are looking forward to pursue (i.e. chicken raising, matron training and building a maternity). It was interesting for me to participate and act as a consultant for these meetings, with the members appreciating my feedback, but taking it with a grain of salt considering that they are the experts (literally) in the field. My recommendations related more to the organizational and business aspects of their propositions and I was able to prod for the answers to various questions they either did not think of or did not (initial) see the value in asking.

For a few days, I also sat with the secretary and treasurer of our women’s association to develop a method of accounting that they themselves can understand and continue using to track their shea activities and savings. At first, I was somewhat frustrated with the fact that providing them with an example for their notebook would not be providing them with the methodology. I had thought “Here is a perfect layout for basic accounting!” and had wanted to just give them the paper without an explanation. At that point I was afraid that the process of teaching them would be seen as a vote of “no confidence” in their abilities. But then I recognized how simply delivering a piece of paper could have been the worst way to convey an idea. Giving a piece of paper is not sharing knowledge. I came here to transfer skills, which means more than that—it means teaching with patience to someone who honestly desires to learn. Although I myself have never done such accounting in my life, my high school and university education provides me with the tools to share these concepts with the secretary and treasurer, who absolutely LOVED learning! They could not get enough.

Mo Rocca in Mali

In addition to being in village, I biked a few times (okay, many times) to my banking town in order to plan and prepare for some shows on the radio. Ah! With the help of the radio technicians and DJs (who have amazing amazing radio skills and voices), we did a half an hour live show and recorded two others to be played in my absence. There will be plenty to say about radio during the upcoming months, because I hope to hold the same slot every week. Many PCVs have come to value radio as an ideal medium for sharing their American culture with lots of people. I won’t go into detail now, but want to mention that doing radio well is much more difficult than I anticipated. Coming from a theatrical background, I usually exaggerate facial expressions and body motions for the performance. Radio is completely different and demands more attention to pronunciation and breathing techniques, analysis of audience needs and their reactions. In order to best employ mass media, much research and follow-up is necessary. It has been fun exploring appropriate themes to write shows on, practicing and recording the shows, and then talking with people in the area who might have heard the show.

Although my language skills reflect my continual effort for the past year, I am much more aware that I still speak with an “American” accent. Think about any of your friends whose first language isn’t English, but who have been speaking English for years. Many of them will still have an accent, regardless of how remarkable their grammar or vocabulary knowledge is. My American accented Bambara is now much easier for many Malians to understand (my homologue re-translates my Bambara less and less), but I am continually looking for local phrases to improve my speech. For example, phrases like “gonna, cuz” or “like” honestly advance how natural the language flows—usually we won’t even think about these phrases and even write them off as too informal. Malians commented after the show that some did not even know I was a “toubab” on the radio until after the introductory show was finished and they repeated who I was (might have been a slight exaggeration). It’s a fantastic compliment to my language tutors and my host families and the patience they have shown me over the last year. I’ve given myself the studio name Mo, which is a nickname for my Malian name and what they call who I am named after. It reminds me of two of my radio idols, Mo Rocca and Todd Moe, not that I’ll ever get to their level—it’s still hard for me to wear the earphones and listen to myself speak!The first show was an introduction to myself and Peace Corps. They asked me to play some American music, but the only two tapes I had brought with me were Eric Clapton and Ace of Base. It was fantastic. The show aired on July 3rd, so I explained the American holiday of July 4th- what we do (fireworks, parades, travel to historical locations, where flag colors), what we eat (mmm… ice cream and barbeque), and why (because America has been around for over 200 years!). I truly enjoyed remembering my middle school history classes and any number of Independence Day celebrations. This year I celebrated in my village. Sitting in the middle of town, I played even more American music gave out an Ameriki bonbon or an American treat if anyone asked me a question about America. The opportunity for cross-cultural exchange expanded when others asked about their own Independence Day and history and our conversation continued on that. We each sang our national anthem a few times and ended the night with popcorn (wish it could have been apple pie).

P.S. The braiding didn't hurt as much as they said it would... the problem was after two weeks, my head began to itch. Next time- new style.

Okay. For lack of a desire to write a lot, here are some of my favorite photos from village outlining the past few weeks.

Mango season has arrived!

Below, a girl tries to reach the mangoes ripe from the top of the tree, it's probably difficult to see, but the pole (bamboo, I think) goes all the way to where you can't see in my picture. Personally, I like the mangoes that eat like an apple- ones that you can bite right into without it being too mushy. Some of the more ripe mangoes go for dorome dorome, or a penny a piece.

My homestay brother at site enjoying a mango. Konyon (wedding)So, the wedding happened and was a lot of fun. Here we all are on the first day, dancing to the djembe, or special celebration drum. There were two fabrics that most of the town bought and had sewn for the wedding... both this beautiful lime green. I refer to the pattern in the foreground as the "dead stump" fabric and don't like it one bit, so I'm glad there was another option. We danced to the djembe for the first day and night and then the second day was the celebration, followed by a late night of dancing to dj-ed music. A lot of fun. Here I am trying to take a group photo with the bride and her friends (see our "uniform"?). Everyone was so riled up-- everyone just wanted their picture taken with the bride and no one wanted to listen. So in general, not necessarily the best picture, but some of the best memories of the chaos that ensued from taking it. A video of some of the live action from our djembe dance circle. A picture of the 12 braids I had for the wedding. They refused to braid my hair into corn-row type braids because they insisted that I would scream and tell them to stop halfway through. Although this might have been true, we'll never know until it actually happens.

Shea Butter and Association FormationThe formation to teach the improved method of good shea butter production happened at the end of April. With 30 participants from my village and 11 friends from surrounding villages, it was quite an event for our small town. Over the next few weeks, I hope to visit the villages who sent participants to follow-up on their experience. The women definitely understand the techniques, so we'll have to see how this shea season works out.

My homestay sister from my original training village came with her mother and was more than patient during the two day formation.

Here the women are washing the nuts to remove dirt and other impurities.

Work and ChoresMy homestay mother is amazing at making dagas or their mud pottery. The small pot I made is sitting, drying a little before I finished it (right in the front of the picture.) I've tried to make bigger ones, but they usually collapse. Unfortunately, these dagas are extremely heavy and therefore difficult for the women to get to market.

Sunday morning is dirty laundry day for everyone... including my little brother! I thought this was so cute... and could definitely picture American kids playing in piles of clothes as well.

While I sit completely still, shaded, inside my house with the windows and door open (for optimal air flow), I'm amazed at how the amount of sweat dripping from my skin could easily fill my Nalgene. And yet, it's really not all that bad. I think that once it gets any hotter than 95 degrees Fahrenheit, I can't really tell what temperature it is anymore- it's just hot. So, no, I'm not complaining, and yes, I know that it is much hotter other places (including places in the US). It's merely a reflection on the fact that I currently like snow, or maybe the thought of snow, and other daydreams (maybe heat-inspired delusions?) or actual activities that remind me of home.

It Helps to Think We Might be Wishing on the Same Bright StarLast night I slept next to a day-old goat who, luckily, had not yet found its voice. With the heat, my tin-roofed house has become too hot to sleep in and therefore I find myself pitching my mosquito net tent under my front gwa (hangar/porchish area). There are grass-thatched walls that encloses my gwa on two sides, but leave plenty of space for all sorts of night time visitors to join my camp-out. To be honest, I was quite reluctant to sleep outside at first. Reluctant because I was scared, unjustifiably so of course. It was just like when my father, brother and I used to pitch a tent in my backyard during warm summer nights in the north country. I remember getting all prepared: gathering my old red flashlight, changing into my pajamas, having popcorn as our late night snack and then carrying my Rescue Rangers sleeping bag out the back sliding door to our tent. It wouldn't be more than a few hours (maybe only one hour even) before I would become unnecessarily frightened and would wake up the boys to profess my fears. Although they were more than enough protection from the noises of the forest, they could not convince me to stay the rest of the night with them and Matt would kindly wriggle out of his Alf sleeping bag to walk me the 15 yards back inside. Conversely here, the noises of the forest are more like noises of a farm- donkeys, cows, dogs, goats, frogs- and are more comforting and reassuring than anything else. I usually end up humming the song "Somewhere Out There" from An American Tail --"it helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky."

TOM'S sandwichTo supplement my rather unchanging diet of millet to with yummy leafy sauce, millet porridge and more millet to with a gross fish sauce that I don't really like eating, I have begun purchasing large amounts of veggies whenever possible. (Mango season has also arrived... I like the ones you can bite into like an apple). And on nights when I get the gross fish sauce that I don't really like eating, I can return to my home and whip up some midnight snack that is much healthier than Papa John's. My special treat to myself is what I have dubbed "TOM'S sandwich" in honor of my father and his stories about his university days where he lived off of tomato sandwiches. This is my Malian version of a BLT... but the only things it has in common are the tomato and the fact that it's an accronym. TOM'S sandwich consists of garden fresh tomatoes, sliced and strategically placed on the bagget, a handful of diced onions, a thin layer of mayonnaise, and salt. Delicious thoughts of home. Let's Shea-r Ideas!In preparation for the shea butter and association building formation being held at my site the last two days of this month, I have been working very closely with our now legally recognized women's group called "Miiriya Nyuman" or Good Idea in Bambara. As I mentioned last entry, the formation was postponed a week, but now seems to be gliding along as planned. I'm currently in Bamako making some final preparations here before the wedding (this week) and the formation (next week). If all goes well, approximately 40 women- 30 from my village and 10 from surrounding villages- will attend the formation to learn the best practices for high quality shea butter and ways to improve the functioning of an association. I'm sure I'll have lots of pictures and stories to share come May.

During the next month of hot season, it is my hope to work intensively with my community to identity and outline specific goals for the village-- where do they want to be at the end of this year, the end of two year, the end of five years? Having already tossed around a lot of ideas at the past few all-community meetings, all we have to do is clarify and make a game plan. I'm also attempting (with another volunteer) to write some scripts to be performed over the radio that would encourage the proper practices to make and sell good shea butter (in radio soap opera form). After speaking with the director of the radio in my banking/post town, I'm thinking that I might be able to have a regular radio program to speak on a variety of issues. This is an idea in the works, so we'll see how it progresses. No podcasts as of yet. Maybe next year.

Currently, some interesting things going on in village are:-The construction of a well at the school (with the assistance of an American NGO). It's temporarily on hold, but the community contribution is complete and makes me encouraged to see what the village is capable of when really motivated.

-The making and firing of pottery, which is then sold at a number of markets in our area. The women are pros!

PS: To quell any fears that my last blog was a direct insult at my homestay family members by calling them donkeys, it was, but an insult meant as a joke... because that's what joking cousins is. Sorry for those of you who were confused. I guess my transition between paragraphs could have been clearer. My homestay family set me up as their "joking cousin" with a last name unlike their own. Historically, our peoples (identified by last name) have had a tendency to not get along. So today, the cultural practice of "joking cousins" allows me to call them names (and vice versa) all day long with no real repercussions, except a sore gut from laughing so hard at some of the jabs they come up with. That's the reason for all the donkey references.

Fali Family

All of last week, my first homestay in Mali turned into a donkey corral. Of course there normally are a decent number of Eeyores passing through, braying at all hours, but even this was excessive.

My homestay father, Souman, who I got to see at least once a week when in my original homestay for market, passed away on Monday, March 16 at around 11:00 am. This was the closest relative of mine that I've had die within the past few years and definitely the first "funeral" I've attended in a while. I think that I jinxed myself by telling friends of my surprise that I had not yet experience a death in Mali.

So, donkeys (fali in Bambara)? No, there is no Bambara tradition that calls for rallying around donkeys or pin the tail on the donkey or even donkey basketball. Rather, my whole family (at least those decended from Souman, as all children take their father's last name and not mother's) are all donkeys.

There is a conflict resolution technique used here called "joking cousins" that I might have referred to before. In general, it's pretty ingenious for diffusing tension between groups of people in Mali. Depending on last name or ethnic group, there are other last names or ethnic groups that are your "joking cousins" (ex. Bagayogo vs. Doumbia or Bambara vs. Fula) and with that title, become the butt of any and all jokes you would want to make: bean jokes, you aren't real jokes, you're my slave jokes, you're a donkey and I can't understand your language jokes. Some are pretty hilarious and others get annoying, but I couldn't go wrong when my entire homestay family had the last name of my joking cousins.

The entire family tree of Doumbia donkeys (He had over 20 children!) gathered quite informally throughout the concession for the entire week following Souman's death. We shared stories of his life and ate plenty of good food while the colts and foals (baby and adolescent donkeys) played with the real cousins they had not seen in years. Although I was not one bit happy about this necessary congregation, it was comforting to be with the people I truly see as my family here- those people who didn't mind holding my hand through all the mistakes I was trying so hard not to make and laughing at me as necessary.

Souman's body was buried (along with his donkey cart... haha... um, you might have to be here to laugh at that) in a cemeteryish location in fields on the outside of town. Monday meant dispersal of most of the donkeys to their own homes. While it was phenomenal to see all of my relatives, I surely hope the necessity does not come around again for some time.

Here my two mothers sit inside for the first week of grieving.

Also, a picture of my siblings.

You All Deserve An Update

In general, not much has been going on. I recently completed a two day refresher formation at our training center again. It was great to share stories and advice with other volunteers living in the central part of Mali.

The women's association in my village received legal recognition in the form of their "recipisse," which now will allow them to establish themselves and take advantage of opportunities for similar groups, including the possibility for loans and other funding sources. We are now working toward hosting a formation on making good shea butter in our village. While they seem pretty excited for it to happen, they are also excited about the wedding that was originally scheduled to take place the same day (we just postponed the formation for a week... :-/). I plan to head back and stay at site for a few weeks at least to prepare for the formation.

Hot season has begun and that means sleeping outside, although I had just adjusted to sleeping inside on my new bed and hanging mosquito net. The metal roofing allows for my house to act like an oven and I find my self sweating at all hours of the day and night and any time in between. Luckily, my roof is pretty high and my windows provide a decent amount of circulation. It's crazy to believe that I have been in country for 9 months now. While the days are long and drawn out, the weeks and months have flown by... and I'm hoping hot season will also fly to move us into rainy season.

The word divers appears in the title to most shops and boutiques here in Mali to basically mean "everything else" or "miscellaneous goods" and therefore, is the most appropriate title for the link to an article written in the Notre Dame Observer. Enjoy!

ND Peace Corps service increases

My life from Notre Dame and my current vie here is Mali collided for the past 9ish days, with phenomenal results.

One of my best friends from college took a break from his constitutional law research in Germany to trek down to Sub-saharan Africa. Before his arrival last Monday night, I was worried that even a short 9 days would prove to be too much for any of my potential visitors. Of course, this was an unnecessary underestimation of my friend's ability to roll with the punches, although I, myself, am still trying to figure this out.

We woke up early the morning after Grant (Siaka Samake-- pronounced Shaw-Ka Sah-ma-kay--the male elephant, as I named him) got in and took a bus to Sevare. Forgetting the fact that my knuckles turned white while bus drove way too fast around some sharp turns, Grant's first sojourn on public transport in Mali was relatively painless. We even made it all the way to Sangha that day and began our time in Dogon Country.

Although I was only in Dogon a little over a month ago for Christmas, the sights were just as beautiful and the hiking was just as fun-- it might have been even more so getting to share the diversity of Mali with such a good friend from home. We finished our two and a half day hike and headed to my site, which is quite a contrast to the desert and cliffs of the north.

We made it to my original homestay village for market day, visited my amazing family and did our "grocery" shopping before jumping on the one taxi minibus that goes to my village each week. I had only used this minibus once before and had almost forgotten how nerve-wrecking the trip would be on the dusty bike path to my village. After a good bucket bath and short nap, we dove into my pre-established routine of dinner with my host family and after dinner conversation at my homologue's house.

On Tuesday, we spent the morning greeting everyone in village. Most everyone was disappointed to find out that he wasn't staying for long, either in village or in Mali, but was glad that he had been able to visit me. Of course, I think that I was more glad than all of them, combined. And glad that Siaka made it through without getting sick! He left last night and safely made it back to Germany with plenty of photos and memories that will hold him over until we meet again, probably state-side.

Tomorrow I will head back to site again to get back into the swing of things with my village. I have really missed them! While I was away, my women's group took the initiative to collect dues and plan their next meeting. Their enthusiasm to move ahead with their association makes me very excited to return. The money from the sale of their shea butter will help with their recipisse, or legal recognition, and any other small start up costs. Getting into good habits now and regular meetings will provide for a better foundation in the long run.

Back to site, back to work, back to Madjo Bagayogo.

A lot has happened since Thanksgiving- the refining and selling of our women's shea butter in Bamako, Eid, Christmas in Dogon country (near Bandiagara- check it out on a map), and New Year's with my initial homestay family a hour south of Bamako. Of course, I would love to go into detail about every moment, but alas, a brief summary of the events will have to do for now.

Daily life (the random stuff that everyone asks about)I've begun eating and liking a lot of things that I refused to touch in the states, including cucumbers (see ginormous example below), watermelon, and oatmeal. These are to supplement my normal meals of to (ground up millet gelatinized patty thing) and fish sauce, seri/moni/bagan (corn/rice/millet porridge), and the occasional rice dish. My village has started to work extensively on their gardens since harvesting season is over and I'm more than excited for the upcoming influx of delicious vegetables or nakofen in Bambara, meaning things from the garden. Spending time planting has really peaked my interest in the possibility of doing a formation on garden improvements, such as pumping techniques, better seed varieties, and introducing new plants. AND it gets me to thinking about what I might want to plant in my own garden... mmm... if only berries grew in Mali. Here are two pictures of the inside of my house. I didn't want to include my second room just yet because I'm in the process of getting an actual bed-- I had done without until now, but figure that I'm here for the long run and might as well really move in! Make this house my own! The pictures and letters on the wall have only increased in number since this photo was taken, so thanks! They make fantastically readable wallpaper. The first picture is your entry into my house, the window covered in the back by my "skurtain" as I like to call it-- haha-- just an old skirt that was a little too short for Mali that cut in half, perfectly made two curtains for my house. My table is wonderful, thanks to the previous volunteer, but I am hardly ever in my house to use it since I eat every meal with my host family. The table on the right hand side in the second picture is my kitchen with my two burner gas stove that I use pretty regularly for cooking pasta, tea, rice, oatmeal and other goodies.

One day in December, my village borrowed a large scale from a neighboring village to weigh our cotton crop from this year. I found this generally intriguing since (a.) never really seen cotton grown before, and (b.) all of the work I did on the farm bill and cotton subsidies while working with the Africa Faith and Justice Network (check out the movie Bamako if you're interested... it's in French and Bambara, just fyi). Supposedly my village didn't produce a great crop this year (over 6,000 kg seemed like a lot to me!) and they're still in the midst of paying off a loan taken out last year... I'm not quite sure that I understand it all yet, but hopefully we'll figure it out.

Seliba.Eid.TabaskiI appreciated Seliba more after my homologue (coworker in village) explained the significance: that it is the celebration of the story of Abraham and the sacrifice of a ram instead of his son. For two days we ate a lot of sheep, greeted, played soccer, greeted/gave blessings, took pictures, got dressed up, ate more sheep (I was actually kind of frustrated with the amount of meat I was given).

My friend Ami and I got "uniforms" made for Seliba. When greeting people on Seliba, you walk around the village with your friends and people give you small change if they like your blessings/hair style/outfit. It kind of reminded me of Halloween and trick or treating in that sense.The henna that my homestay sister did for me. It was really pretty.Okay, I love this picture. You probably can't really tell everything that's going on, so that's why I'll tell you: My little homestay sister is in the foreground in her snowsuit, haha. I always think that's so ironic. It was probably in the low 70s at this point. In the midground on the right hand side is the shadow of another host sis last-minute braiding someone's hair the morning of Seli. Finally, in the background the guys are in the process of slaughtering a sheep... another thing I had never seen before, and probably could go without seeing ever again. But that's when I think of how sterile our lives are in America and the distance we are from the reality of such processes. We often take for granted the steak that somehow ends up on our plate in restaurant. Then again, I don't really mind so much not having to see my meat alive one minute and not alive the next.

So, the festivities of Seliba continued well into the next week for some communities, including the next village over (1km from my village). They had invited sigui dancers to come and join in the celebration. The Sigui are the traditional masked dancers from different regions of Mali. Each mask represents a different animal or concept. This was my first taste of the stereotypical "African" dance and ceremony, but it was good because it was REAL-- not like a show that was being put on for me, as I often feel is the case. Everyone had come out to watch... and I mean everyone, including the mayor and the dugutigis from a lot of the surrounding villages. The first picture is an action shot and then I tried to include a video-- we'll see if it works out.

Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays, except Mali

Thanks to everyone who sent holiday e-mails, wishes, packages, letters, calls, thoughts, facebook messages, etc, my first Christmas away from home didn't feel all that away from home. I think that this also had to do with the fact that I was with an amazing group of PC Volunteers, hiking the cliffs of Dogon. Absolutely gorgeous! It's amazing to me the diversity that Mali has to offer-- from the lush greens of Sikasso region to the stunning rock formations in Mopti, which isn't including the variations in cultures, languages, and religions. We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas just relaxing before heading out on our 3 day hike.

The Tellem people once inhabited the cliffs of Dogon, but since have left. The Dogon people's villages are not built into the cliffs, but are rather at the base of them.

Just a few from the top of one of the cliffs on our descent back into the sandy desert.

The Dogon sigui (see above). Very colorful and entertaining. I have a video of this, too, but it was too big to add here. Later. And check out the guy on stilts in the back.

A current day Dogon village at the base of a cliff (still on the sideish) in order to save the flat/non-rock ground for farming. Quite a trek down to get water daily.

This last picture is another view from the top. There's a lake (not a mirage, I promise) and a village in the bottom left corner.

For New Year's, I headed back to my intial homestay and celebrated with the fam. We ate well and then headed out to the donkeyoro (dance place), which is mostly a concrete-fenced in area with a covered stage. We danced to DJed Malian music until midnight and set off some sparklers. All in all, a good time.Well, that's about it. In-service training begins in a week. I'll be headed back to our training village outside of Bamako for three weeks of cross-sectoral and technical training so that we can get things moving! I'm excited to be learning, but know that three weeks of sitting will make me more than ansy. And then Grant comes! :-)Hope that your holidays were just as enjoyable.

Oh Shea!

Finally! A blog about what I'm doing in Mali. Thank goodness.

One of my main projects in my community will be working with our women's association to produce a better quality shea butter and find a buyer interested in offering them a good price. Shea itself is pretty cool-- you can eat the fruit to get the nut, and then your opportunities are endless! Butter to be used as a cooking oil, a lotion, a pommade or even soap! The butter made from the shea found throughout the sahel region of Africa has a high melting point compared to another type of shea in central/east Africa, making it wonderful for the production of chocolate that won't melt... so it's a magical thing, and a lot of fun.

In the mean time, while waiting for next shea collection season to start from the beginning of nut collection with good practices, I'm in the midst of working with the women's association to get their recipice-- or an official document that allows them to sell their products as an association. This has been hard for many reasons, but mostly because of the need of internal organization and structure that has been disrupted by the coming of harvest season (and everyone heads out to the fields to return exhausted later in the evening). Hopefully this will be something we can accomplish by the time I leave to celebrate Christmas!

Here is a picture of some kids shelling shea nuts, which has a tendency to take place at all times of the day and night. It's a great activity for socializing.Here is a picture of my friend beating her ground (and now semi-liquid) shea paste. It's hard work and more fun when a group of women get together to kolo gosi or beat the nuts. The white part on the top is the emulsifying fats rising. The bowl of dark chocolate looking substance in the back left is the ground shea paste pre-beating. The women in my village usually meet once a week to beat their butter. After it is beaten, the whiter part is skimmed off to be heated and then left to solidify (which can take 2-3 days, depending on the quantity).

Daily Living

Another picture of my house and negen (bathroom- concrete structure to the left of my house)

I'm also working with my women on the selling of sumbala, or a local spice they use when cooking. Many of the women will make a batch (ingredients include datu and nere, two plants/spices not really found in America, at least to my knowledge). This is a picture of the day I helped to roll the sumbala. Honestly, it doesn't smell to good to me, and it looks like a submarine without a periscope, but they do use it when flavoring my food and I can't complain tooooo much.Thanksgiving in SikassoIf I had to give up American football on Thanksgiving for one thing, beautiful waterfalls would be it and that's exactly what I was able to enjoy this Thanksgiving. After stuffing ourselves silly on Thanksgiving (and I did end up getting cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie), a good number of us headed to the waterfalls south of Sikasso. It was marvellous.

(take my picture!!) So, I haven't taken as many pictures as I would have liked to simply because of the chaos that it creates as soon as my pink camera case comes out of my bag. Here are some select photos that I have been meaning to put up for a while, but just haven't gotten the chance... A substantial update and story about shea butter selling is in the works to be posted Thanksgivingish time, hopefully! Happy Turkey Day in advance. Please eat as many cranberries as possible for me-- not sure if we'll get them here.

AnimalsThis is one of my favorite pictures of a beautiful bug on millet, taken just before the harvest! Too bad millet doesn't taste as wonderful as this picture does...

The possible monitor lizard that I wrote about last night. Yikes!

Baby antelope, anyone? They say they are really difficult to catch and I haven't seen any others than this one.

So sweet so

Pictures of my house and random parts of my village. This is the entrance to town. The very first building on the right side is the school.

This is just a beautiful sunrise. If you look closely enough, you can see the donkey hanging out. A few ears of corn are in the foreground... unfortunately corn harvesting season is over now.

Our gorgeous mosque. Yes, with papaya trees out front. The view from the back of the mosque at sunrise.

The view out my front door. I have a nice "gwa" or thatched shaded area where children and goats like to play. The next building is the back of my neighbor's concession.

Out my back window-- the same trees that I adored from the beginning are still amazing, even as they start to lose their leaves as we move into the dry season. And yes, there are goats on my partial wall.

The town center and the location for a decent number of random dance parties. Women will gather here during the day to su-su or pound things like millet, corn and rice with the kolon or huge mortar and pestle. The path to the left goes to my house. I had never seen cotton being harvested before. Pretty cool.

Yay Election!

Before I actually write this message, I would just like to congratulate our nation on another successful democratic election. Way to go USA! Even without me there and without the timely arrival of my absentee ballot (UGH), it went off wonderfully and now I am suffering from a severe lack of sleep, since we stayed up for Obama's speech, which was at around 4:30ish am our time. I'm more than content right now. Exhausted, but happy.

Wait, did you say bears?

Okay, so back to the blog. None of the above listed in the title, really. Sorry for getting your hopes up. It's more like monitor lizards, mice, and scorpions, oh my! Just as scary when you read about the bacterial-ridden mouth of the lizard, the thought that my good food might be eaten (including my peanut butter) and that the smaller scorpions are actually the more poisionous of the scorpions-- and I've had more than my share in and around my house. Exciting the first time. Nerve-wracking the second, third, and fourth when I have to plan an escape route before getting out of my mosquito net tent just in case things get bad in my attempt to ward off the second two. Luckily for me, I have yet to find the monitor lizard anywhere near town... my town says that they live in the forests, so that's why I'm not going there any time soon. The picture I have of this 2 1/2 ft (at least) beast is coming, but again, the lack of adequate internet is preventing me from sharing that.

Celebration of successes

My small victories of the past few weeks include: (1.) successfully travelling to the larger village about an hour a way and filling my gas tank to hook up to my three burner mini-stove in a certain time limit because the tank was too heavy to bring any way that wasn't by car, which only comes once at certain times on market day. Phew! Which led me to... (2.) making French toast with cinnamon and sharing it with my host family, who doesn't like it as much as I do and therefore let me eat most of it! It even made my house smell delicious for the next few days. (3.) Making curtains for my windows out of an old skirt that I couldn't wear anymore. You would be surprised how some curtains really spruce up a home.

The Hundred Shea-acre Woods

I've drawn a map of the route that I take whenever I bike the 8km to the road for market or for language tutoring. I'm not so sure why I'm proud of this, but I've named most of the sections of my road. It definitely makes the trip more enjoyable and let's me think of home or other happy thoughts. Again, I have pictures, but they will have to wait for another day. Until then, let your imagination don a bicycle helmet and travel with me on a typically day:

First, when leaving village, I take route 345. For those of you from home, you'll probably figure out that this is the road that goes by the school before heading on to bigger and better things. The first hill is Red Rocks, PA named mostly because of the red rocks. The top of the hill is called Leischman's Pt and sits just outside of view of town, but reminds me that I'm almost there on my way home. Myrtle Beach is the first of two really sandy sections of the road-- really annoying during rainy season because mud is almost more difficult to bike through than sand... almost because you often will end up getting of your bike to push your way through anyway. Since the rainy season has officially ended, I won't be seeing that mud anymore until next June! Agrocrag-- isn't that what the huge mountain was called on the Nickelodeon show "Guts"? Well, there's a mini-one here. It's hard.

The Hundred Shea-acre Woods is what I'm calling my region in general because of the vast number of shea trees there and the innumerable shea nuts that have been collected and will be collected. At this point in my trip, the shea trees become more apparent out in the fields (of corn, millet, cotton, sesame, etc). The wide open spaces, recently razed to clear the tall grasses are Lion King inspired-- the Pride Lands. The first two are called Nala and Simba. Like I said, no lions, though, so it's more that I just picture that part in the movie where Simba looks on the pride lands and is sad because of the lack of food. Rafiki field comes next. Supposedly other volunteers have seen monkeys there, although I've missed them the bazillion times I've ridden by so far. Oh well. I know that rafiki is swahili and actually doesn't even mean monkey, but rather friend. Meh. Again with the Lion King theme are the Pride Rocks at the end of Rafiki field and at the peak of a small hill, which becomes Pride Lands #2, Zazu on the other side. Unlike Simba field, I have seen Zazu birds there.

The Great Divide is just a split in the road and then Global Guts (this Agrocrag is twice as long as the first). Finally we arrive at Daytona Beach with more sand and can stop at the well I've deemed the Pit Stop to get water. Well, I can't. The High Road inspires the lilty song in my head. This was one of the first areas on my trip that I learned to recognize. I'm still not sure if the low road was dug purposely to collect water during the rainy season-- the drain or ditch of sorts, or if it is the former road, now abandoned because of it's tendency to be more of a river than a path.

Then comes the 7th Inning Stretch (or 3rd if you're going home). A whole bunch of nothing exciting. Included in the 7th inning stretch are the mines where they make charcoal. It's not mined, but smoked... I'm not really sure how they do it, actually. Yogi Berra is what I've named the fork in the road (I take it every time). And then we approach South Bend, the final turn that signals the end of the 7th inning stretch.

Troubled Bridge Over Water is not really a bridge and not really water, but enough so that during the rainy season this section of the road is almost impassable. Again, musical inspiration. After the bridge we reach the Thruway that gets pretty heavy with traffic on market days... I'll usually have to pass a donkey cart or two. The first exit takes you to the Rapids: a section of really bad road that would be treacherous to walk, swim, or kayak, let alone bike, during the rainy season. You have to know just where to go or you'll drop suddenly into a pit or pool of water. Kinda scary even when it's completely dry.

The last section I've named Custard's Last Stand for no reason other than I wanted to... that's what kept popping into my head! It has a slight grade, but isn't really that daunting at all. Because then you arrive at the Banana (Mango) Split or two huge mango trees that welcome you at the top of the hill. You have arrived. Finally, I bike through the Stage Door to get to Hollabaugh's or a small mango grove that reminds me of the fruit orchards of Pennsylvania.

Now all you have to do is try to picture it. It's a ton of fun.

Are you working yet?

Yes, yes, the magical question. Like I said before, I'm expected to integrate first before doing any real "work," but I have really enjoyed my time so far hanging out with my villagers and heading out into the fields. I've pulled peanuts, husked a ton of corn, among other things. It's absolutely amazing to see where all of our pre-packaged madness in American actually comes from and the effort that it takes to farm, harvest, prepare and store. Being in the fields also helps me to realize how difficult the agrarian lifestyle is... I'm exhausted usually by mid-afternoon and ready for my evening bucket bath.

I'm still attempting to work with my women to get them registered as a real women's association, but because it IS harvesting time, coordinating a meeting has become difficult. Soon, things will start to be more focused once all of the crops have been harvested. Malians LOVE the question: "Can you find THIS in America?" Corn and peanuts, yes. Other things like the guava and papaya are a little lacking in the states.

This was a pretty random entry, I know. Apologies. :-) I'm pretty sure the next time I may be internet bound is Thanksgiving. So until then!

Minnie N Majo

Some of the days during my first month at site have been extremely trying, from the times when children would stand outside my closed door and then, peeking in my windows, yell my name, after I told them that I was going to lie down, to the general lack of English language and good conversation that I had grown accustomed to during pre-service training. In these cases, the strangest things seem to be comforting and refreshing, including the taste of my favorite childhood snack: Peanut butter balls from my Minnie N Me Disney cookbook. Yes, all of the ingredients are here and readily available (minus the wheat germ) and yes, I now eat peanut butter balls all the time, made with the freshly produced peanut butter from the market. As I eat an entire batch, sitting at the table in my house, I think back to the times when I would do the same thing at home, but this time mom isn't here to yell at me...

African Frogs

My first pet as a child came as a gift from my aunt and uncle and although it wasn't a typical pet, such as a dog or a cat, it began to teach me the lessons of responsibility and patience. North country friends, you might remember Amy and Bill, our "African Frogs" that lived in an aquarium, first in my room and then in my basement. They definitely escaped more than once and died more than once (but we got replacements, Amy II and Bill II). Well, the frogs in Mali are multidinous and quickly reproducing, but look nothing like the African frogs I had so many years ago. It makes me think of the exoticism that we placed on the word "African" that actually leads to a generalization and grouping of the whole continent into a single place, a single idea. It also has allowed me to reflect on the idealization that I, myself, had of Mali and the "developing world"--that all of the issues here are completely different and not the social issues that I often complain about in America. But, no, perfection isn't here either, just like it's not at home. Again, I think that we're in need of some great compromises and meeting in the middle so that the world as a whole and the human population as a population can move forward.

Mothers are ba's everywhere

For those of you still worried about my health, I would like you to know that yes, I am still healthy with only the most minor of health concerns, including a one day horrendously sore-throat two weeks ago. I would also like you to know that mothers will continue to be mothers and care, almost too much, for your well-being.

After I had told my homestay family about my sore-throat and taken the morning to attempt to sleep it off in my house, I returned with some of my own tea and asked my dia-tigi or homestay mother to warm some water for me. That seemed to mean that I was willing to try to eat things (no, no I never said that) and do you know what is best for a sore-throat when you can barely swallow? Fish balls. Yes, pulverized whole fish (bones included) mixed with a flour-y paste and cooked in fish juice. Let's just say that it's not quite the chicken soup I was looking for and no, I didn't eat more than one bite. It's the thought that counts, right?

Okay! I have to go right now, right now... I have more to write, but it will have to wait! Ah! Talk to you in a few weeks!

Still more to come, but it just started raining and I have to get my clothes off the line!!!

Sunrise over homestay fields one of my last mornings there. Absolutely gorgeous.

My host sister's wedding day-- it was great, but I was really sad to see her go.I'm still alive... this is proof: A picture of me and one of my favorite host nieces with a clothesline of fabric in the background. She didn't quite get to look at the camera.... oops.

Here we go...

After successfully swearing in on Friday, I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer to serve in Mali for the next two years. You have no idea how excited I am to get out there and get busy getting to know my new community.

What will I be doing there, exactly? Good question. A lot of just integration and hanging out in order to best assess the needs of the community. Although I have a few projects already in mind and a few suggested to me, it's not my job to tell the people what they need. I will be working very closely with the women's association and the economic development committee in the small community in order to improve the current conditions of the town. In other words, I'll be doing community development, but in Mali-- an environment with which I am completely unfamiliar.

Dooni dooni

I would write the phrase with crazy o's that are present in the Malian phonetic alphabet, but I can't find them on this keyboard. "Small small," or "slowly slowly" my Malian counterparts are always telling me. That's how I intend to work towards becoming a part of my rural community. The first three months at site, I'm technically not allowed to start any funded projects, but that's okay with me! I'm planning to spend a lot of time improving my language skills and just becoming Majo Bagayogo. This time at site, I will be able to explore the surrounding towns and see what role they play in perhaps organizing with my own community. On my own Being on my own is a pretty daunting thought right now, but I also can't wait to just get out there. I'm not sure the next time I'll be able to write, but know that you are all in my thoughts. Take care across the ocean! I know that I'll have a lot to say very very soon...

P.S. Check out the other pictures that I've posted to the right of this on my blog. Click "Sara's pictures" More will be coming when I have time to sit at a computer and upload them.

Took my language test yesterday and received an Intermediate High level!! I'm more than excited that my skills have progressed so much in such little time. Ah, it feels good. I might, just might, be able to communicate in my village when I arrive next Tuesday. Here are some more pictures to hold you over.

Picture 1: The gwabugu (kitchen hut) at sunset. Also, see our awesome corn crop that I will be eating soon.

Picture 2: And you thought that we prepared a lot of food for our weddings. I doubt that I could have ever gotten the proportions right for this much rice....

Picture 3: Host family picture (it was late at night, sorry) Try to figure out which one I am. My mom and dad are seated, mom in front of me and dad in the brown shirt. Picture 4: My host brothers and sisters are adorable. I can't wait to watch them grow up over the next two years. :o)

That's it for sisan (now), as PC has brought one member from each of our homestays to come eat dinner with us the night before we swear in. I'll be spending a few days after swear in back here at the training center, so I'll be writing a final entry before making my way to site.

Hello loyal readers! I have a very quick update. Pictures aren't uploading right now, but I might be able to post them later.

I just finished the last portion of my Peace Corps training and in just a few days I will swear in to become an actual Peace Corps Volunteer. That's right, I've made it-- take note all of you non-believers out there...

We left our homestay in style, with everyone arriving to our meeting place as part of a parade. Mine consisted of a homestay brother and nephew who had strapped my luggage to the back of their bicycles and my little sisters who helped to carry my wash buckets; my mother followed along behind us. The night before, we had a photo session at my concession with everyone posing and then pulling me to the next set of people to take their picture. It was tons of fun knowing that the next two years I will always be able to return to this group of people to hang out, laugh, cry and feel very very welcome, regardless.

My other sister got married last week... something that I was not expecting AT ALL. I was actually quite shocked and didn't believe when they first told me, but then sure enough, there she was in her wedding dress. Just a day earlier, this had been the young woman who had cooked my dinner. Just a week earlier, she had been pulling my water for me. And just a month ago, she had been the first family member to really befriend me by teaching me local games and answering all of the now ridiculous questions about how to survive. I'm so glad that she's only moving to the other side of town to her husband's house and not to a different village, so I'll be able to see her, too, whenever I go back.

I'll write more later when I can add pictures.

We leave in 15 minutes for the long stretch of our pre-service training. This will be a stint of 3 weeks at our homestay, receiving more language training and finally some SED technical stuff.

So, forgive me for not being around to send messages for a bit. My homestay site DOES have great cell phone service and that means that you should call me/message me, preferably in the late evening my time (7:30 pm or after Malian time-- 4 hours ahead of EST). The only reason you wouldn't get me is if I haven't been able to charge my phone.

During this time I plan to start making the connections and building the relationships that I will need for the next 2 years. Since my homestay is only 8 km from my actual site, a lot of the resources I will need will be based at my homestay on the main road. Bringing the surrounding communities together will both help me to integrate and help the local economy to grow.

Miss you all! Thanks for the messages, comments, and birthday wishes.

but this guaranteed that 10 children "held my hand" as they accompanied me around my new town. That being said, I felt more like the child-- having no idea where I was and mostly unable to speak in my new language. I played, I don't know how many games of cards and danced to random drumming in the street almost every night. Check out my awesome house-- it has two rooms. The bathroom is the building in the back to the left. And then I get a sweet hangar to chill outside. The previous volunteer said that she was able to sleep outside most nights during the hot season when the tin roof makes the house more like an oven than actual living space. The spiders, however, will always be present and I can't wait to overcome my fear. Ugh. I don't even want to look at this picture right now.

My time in brousse (at my small site) was difficult the first few days. Adjusting to the fact that the people I met would be my community for the next two years of my life in Mali, for better and for worse. After the first few days though, it was definitely for the better. Once the townspeople realized that I was a new person to be living, with them for a while, I think the initial questions began to wear off. And thank goodness, because I was tired of being awoken not 10 minutes after I had told them I was going to lie down, tired of responding to the previous volunteer's name and tired of being treated as if I were incapable of doing anything. And of course, these situations came about only because the Malian people are so welcoming and might not appreciate privacy and quiet as much as Americans do. It's that genuine care that I valued more than the minutes of silence. My backyard is also absolutely beautiful, with two large cottonsilk trees. They remind me of Pocahontas and make me more than happy every time I wake up. Directly behind my house is a cornfield which turns into a field for the grazing of animals like the sheep, goats, and an occassional donkey.

My thoughts about development were definitely challenged my week at site. I think that there has to be some great compromise waiting to happen between the cultures of the world. Neither group of us can keep going the way we are without self-destructing. In so many instances, we seem to be on polar opposite sides of the same question, with each of us struggling to find the answer. In both cases, people are suffering: some right now, some a few weeks or months from now and some a long time from now. I don't mean to be apocalyptic, but I don't see how postponing/ignorning/separating ourselves from the suffering makes it any less real or painful. The responsible to ourselves is a responsibility to those around us-- and everyone else.

I got to celebrate my 22nd birthday by returning to Bamako and eating a 4 cheese pizza. It has to be one of the most delicious things I have tasted since living in Mali. Cheese = love. Someone should send me some Velveeta, pronto. Everyone was truly fantastic back at our training village-- they sang happy birthday and the cooking staff prepared some pretty good cake. I'm not the youngest person in our group... she turned 22 today :-) So I beat her by two days. Regardless, I felt that today was my real birthday celebration.

We started the day by travelling to one of the stellar shea nut butter production places in Mali. Since I will be working with the women's association in my village, we will be trying to improve the quality of the shea produced and then finding market for it. The day was seriously encouraging and fun fun fun. My friend Caroline and our Assistant SED trainer helped with the beating process in which the shea butter begins to separate from the other part of the ground up nut.

After the presentations, we got to visit some fabulous sites in the area. Waterfall, rock formations, and hiking made the day just great.

Tea

I'm learning the best techniques to making the immense amounts of foam necessary for real Malian tea. And by tea, I mean tea flavored sugar with foam. Everyone drinks this sweet tea all the time-- it's a great excuse to just hang out and share stories with family and friends. There are three rounds of tea per pot, two shot-sized glasses used, and everyone shares. I get the other tea for breakfast each morning. It's lipton and it's so cute that they pronounce it lip-tone. The concept of "communal" extends to everything, from a small lollipop shared by all of the children in my concession (walled in group of multiple families/houses) to articles of clothing and our dinner plates. The picture is from our training center of our first attempt to eat from the communal bowl with our hands. This is how I eat dinner every night in homestay-- no utensils unless it's a liquid. I do like sharing, but we've been told to be careful what it is that we're sharing, considering that sicknesses are other things that get passed around. But for more good news, I haven't gotten sick yet! Knock on wood, but I think that I have even adjusted to the food. Granted, I've been spoiled beyond belief by my family, but I seem to be one of the few that have made it this far without a trip to the medical unit.

My homestayI know that you have been anxiously awaiting details about the family with whom I've been staying the past few weeks and it comes down to this: They are AMAZING. I'm very very lucky to live with a family in a concession of people who are more than patient with my struggling Bambara language skills... of course I'm guessing this is because my stumbling along can be pretty entertaining at times. As Mali is approximately 90% Muslim, my homestay family is as well. The Islamic faith allows for a man to take multiple wives and my homestay father has two, one of whom I'm named after and the other who has taken me on as both a daughter and a friend.

Speaking of my name, I didn't know what it was for the first two days at my homestay. Children here usually take their father's last name and keep it forever. Women do not take their husband's name. Therefore, I assumed that my last name was my homestay father's and not my host mother's. When they said that my name was Majo Bagayogo (pronounced Ma-jo, with a nasalized a), I thought that it was one word, and that overwhelmed me. I figured it out when my brother wrote it out for me as two separate names. One of my nieces then henna-ed my hand (see picture), with my mispelled name, but I didn't care because it was gorgeous! This is also the niece who was at the donkeyoro (dance club) with me on a Monday and gave birth to a lovely baby boy on that Friday. Fantastic.

I sigi!!"YOU, as a guest, HAVE TO SIT HERE, NOW!" It's been fun being a guest and not so fun, as we are expected to sit around to be looked at and touched for hours on end. Of course, not exclusively, and now I'm able to defer some of the attention by offering to help, but I cannot escape being offered the best seat in the joint, wherever that may be and regardless of the others who could also be sitting in that chair. I actually prefer sitting on a mat when I can and my Bambara is improving quickly enough that I can now politely turn down the offered seat and pop a squat on the nearing kuru (small stool).

Our town is very pretty right now-- the rainy season ensures that it stays super green. Although we've missed the official mango season, the trees are everywhere and the fruits still taste delicious to me! Both corn and peanuts will be harvested within the upcoming months and I cannot wait for it to be avocado season!

Learning Bambara (Bamanankan kalan in Bambara) is great and take place in the school yard of the local high school. This picture is actually of the 5 students at our homestay village taking French, but just imagine three of us doing the exact same thing. We study for approximately 6ish hours every day and then practice it when we return to our families. That being said, I'm so impressed with our group: after studying Bambara for only 3 weeks, we all speak Bambara at least to the same level, if not higher, than our French!! Crazy! This is great considering that we are about to head out to places that will speak even less French.

The eight of us at our homestay village get along incredibly well and I can't believe that soon I won't have this group to lean on/play cards will all the time. Our placements are distributed throughout the country. We cooked dinner together the other night with help from our Language and Culture Facilitators (LCFs). We killed, plucked, cooked and ate the rooster in the picture to the right. We bought it the day before at the market and so it spent the night at my friend's house in her coop. The funny story about the chicken is that earlier on the market day we had been discussing what we needed to cook our own dinner-- things like which veggies, seasonings, etc. On our way to the market, we were also deciding who was going to buy what materials so spread out the work of bargaining. One of our LCFs was going to help with the purchasing of the chicken, since we had absolutely no idea. In jest, we started throwing out ridiculous numbers of chickens that we would get, so I said something like "how about 15 so that we each get 1 1/2 of a chicken?" Well, we all reconvened after making our purchases and Elizabeth tells the story of helping to buy the rooster that was then tied to a pole outside our teachers' house. It was later in the afternoon and the sellers in the market were starting to leave. Our LCF had to actually ask the person with the chickens to get them out of the coop already attached to the top of a public transportation van/bus (called a bache). Elizabeth waited patiently while our LCF did the bargaining. She was handed one chicken... and then another, and another until she holding 7 chickens by the feet. At this point, she doesn't want to interrupt, but thankfully she did and asked if they were decided which one to get. "I thought we were getting 13 for all of us," said our LCF, and Elizabeth quickly answers, "No, no no no! One will be plenty!" We all got a good laugh out of this and have since learned that our sarcasm still may be hard to understand after a spending a few weeks with well-trained LCFs... and that we need to take care to be clear in our communication. One chicken was more than enough work to prepare and adequate for the delicious pasta sauce that we made. And now I know how to kill and cook a chicken. We'll save those pictures for later.

The next big step/ride Tomorrow morning I ship out to the actual site where I will end up for the next two years after I swear in on September 12th. The picture is of the group of futher PC volunteers to live and work in the Sikasso region. Today I met my homologue, or the person who will be my main contact in the village where I live. I'll spend a week there and get my first introduction to the town and their people. Although no volunteer has actually been placed at this site before, one volunteer did her last 6 months starting some projects from her site a few km away. My house is newly renovated and I can't wait to check it out! I'm a bike ride away from my current homestay village, which is also our market town, so I will be able to visit my homestay family all of the time or whenever I'm traveling away from/ back to my town. The wife of one of my homestay brothers was raised in my new town and has told me a few people to visit once I get there.

Avocados, shea nuts, and mangoes-- I'm set!

I'll be spending the next two years of my Malian existence in the Sikasso region of Mali where it is greener and wetter (and full of yummy yummy foods). Bamako will still be my closest regional capital and I'll be able to make it to the city pretty quickly whenever you come to visit :-) This is definitely where I wanted to be placed. My current homestay village, with which I am more than content, is actually very close as well, so if I ever get "homesick," I'll just hop on my bike for a nice ride.

My site is a "new" site-- "new" (and not new new) because another volunteer finished her two years of service with a few months in this village. As if I didn't already have enough reading material, this volunteer has prepared a lot of great information that I will definitely benefit from. My village is smaller than Waddington, but I can't wait to be immersed in a really personalized environment where I will more than likely really get to know everyone. Out of all of the Small Enterprise Development volunteers, my site is the smallest. Woo!

Some potential projects include work with shea nuts (for lotions, foods, etc), chicken raising (eggs...), and microfinance, among other things... and... that's all I know for now! That's it! I'll be sending more details when I find them out.

Tomorrow we head back to our homestay for a week before making our first trek to our actual site. Cannot wait.

While I'm still in the "honeymoon" stage of my time in Mali, I figured that I would write up some of my favorite things so far.

--watching myself steam as I pour cold water over my head on a cooler morning after sweating through the night

--dinners of french fries, tomato, onion and hard-boiled egg

--the most amazing (and frequent) heat lightning

--more beautiful stars (lolow in Bamanankan-na) than I ever thought possible-- even more gorgeous than those in the non-light polluted north country

--babies

--never being cold

--"we wish you a merry christmas" ringtones

And this is just the beginning...

Thousands of "aw bissimila" posters greeted us as we slowly got off the plane from France (Aw Bissimila means Ya'll are Welcome" in Bambara, which about 80% of the country speaks). I had spent most of the flight watching the streaming video of what we were flying over-- from the Mediterranean onto the never-ending Sahara desert. I was surprised as we arrived at the Bamako airport just how light and busy the city was, even at 9:30 pm at night. While I was in Kampala, Uganda, electricity shortages meant that lighting was questionable and usually every other night. Of course, Bamako is more likely to have consistent electricity than most other places because it is the capital.

The 77 Peace Corps trainees filled up a number of airconditioned Peace Corps SUVs and a bus with ourselves and our luggage-- each person with two huge bags at least. After a drive through the outskirts of the city, we got out at our training village. My glasses fogged up as if I were entering my house after playing outside in the snow, except this fog was humidity. There isn't even a word in Bambara for snow.

We've gone through sessions outlining health, safety, language and cross-cultural concerns. We've had interviews with our sector (mine is Small Enterprise Development) and language leaders. We've played and danced at the "cultural festival" organized at our training village. We've had so much fun-- it's great to be with a slew of such skilled and awesome people and at the same time that our time together as the big group will be limited.

My interview with our sector leader makes me believe that I will be placed in a smaller village to do my actual Peace Corps service. This was further confirmed by the fact that I will be focusing my language studies on Bambara for most of our pre-service training (PST). (Side note: I received an "Intermediate-mid" rating after my French test-- not quite sure how, but I think that I can make stuff up, even in French!!) Half-way through PST I'll also receive a lot of French lessons to insure that I will be able to speak when necessary.

I've had no trouble whatsoever sleeping in the heat-- it's actually quite comforting. Each night has been approximately 80ish degrees farenheit, plus humidity. We have a fan in our room that we have been using, and we sleep with the door open and a screen door shut. Maybe I'm just so exhausted from the long days or maybe this is good weather for me! Either way, I should be sleeping well for a while until the rainy season ends and the mini-hot season begins in Octoberish. Then, supposedly, most volunteers end up sleeping outside. I can't wait.

Animals seen so far include: awesome bugs and birds, lizards and salamanders, and more bugs. The training center is next to the Niger (the gorgeous river that flows through Mali). I might find some hippos soon :-)

I won't be able to write for a while as I get settled into my homestay, but know that I'm thinking of AW (ya'll in Bambara). Next time I'll come back with tons of new phrases to share with you-- my homestay family won't speak English and few will speak French.

We've learned the basics and tomorrow will be headed to our homestay villages to make ALL of the cultural mistakes possible. At least I'll be good at that.

Exactly one week from now I'll be on a plane making its way across the Atlantic Ocean that will separate me (geographically) from the country that I call my home. Hopefully my time in Mali will allow me to call another country my home, at least temporarily.

Feelings. Right now.

Okay. I'm nervous mostly because I really don't speak French yet. I know they say that immersion is the best way to learn, and I'm super excited to be immersed, but I've never done anything quite like this before. Spanish immersion camp didn't count-- we'd always cheat by speaking to our bunkmates completely in English. But this time I won't have English speaking bunkmates. For the first three (or so) months, I will live with a homestay family outside the city in a community that will host up to 15 other Peace Corps Volunteers. This is where I will put in to practice all of what I will learn at training. I hope that I'll have homestay siblings about my age who will demonstrate the dos and don'ts so I do shower twice daily and I don't smell a banana again (for those of you who missed out on my Uganda messages, smelling food is impolite in Uganda, but guess what I did even after I had learned this...)

The north country has been so gorgeous lately, I almost wish that I could stay a little longer to enjoy the tranquility that accompanies being in the middle of no where. As much as I despise north country winters and a general lack of action/motivation, the winds off the St. Lawrence immediately temper my mood and make me wonder why I chose to move away from this beautiful place. I'm excited, though, to add a new definition of "gorgeous" to my vocabulary as I make my way through the Sahel.

I have survived the first month post-graduation!

Some days have been more difficult than others, as I find myself sitting at home with my dog watching old movies and making photo albums to take with me to Mali. The days that I wait anxiously for my gmail account to show a new message from friends actually doing things are bad day; the worst are the days of South Bend permacloud that I feel like doing nothing except turning on the classic sports channel and watch reruns of amazing football games.

I have to be honest-- I've been sleeping in way past the time anyone should be allowed to sleep in multiple days in a row. If catching up on sleep is possible, I must be close to being back to the normal average number of hours of sleep a night. Or maybe it's just that I realize I won't be getting a lot of sleep in the heat of the Sahel, so I'm storing it up.

Not much of interest going on. Packing is almost complete. This Saturday will be Paige's Afternoon Tea with the girls. Sunday is theatre in Canada and Monday I'm gone for my cross country road trip with Matt. Yee haw! I think that this is the longest we'll have been together in approximately 5 years. Maybe that's a lie. But regardless, it will be quite an adventure.

Let me make this clear:

My favorite color is blue. Usually a teal or dark turquoise color; never navy or royal or sky blue.

I like green, too. The gross color greens that no one else wants-- pea green or grey-green or the annoying bright green that isn't quite lime yet.

Yes, unless it is pig pink (which is the ONLY exception), I do not enjoy the color pink.

Well, it seems as though the only version available of every single item I need for Mali comes in pink. Magenta, hot pink or cotton candy... and I don't have a choice because I'm not going to special order or wait a week just so that I can get a blue camera case.

Does it really matter and do I really care? Of course not. I think that's the point. I don't care, I shouldn't care and here I am writing a blog about the conspiracy that I have only pink scissors with a matching pink iPod skin. The possibility of choosing has made me (allowed me) to expect to get exactly what I want (a teal cover for my portable speakers). Is it bad to have such choices? Obviously not. But the fact that I could even THINK about possibly not purchasing something because of such a superfluous detail seems (is) ridiculous. Rose or lilac, it's still going to do the same thing.

In preparation for Mali, I have been studying French like crazy. One semester of introduction to the language has given me a strong base to work from. I see some improvement, but not enough when I realize that I will be living in the language for two years. After all this time living next to Canada and learning Spanish...

It's nice to be in the north country for a few more weeks. The environment is so relaxed and comfortable. Unpacking from Notre Dame has been ridiculous and I'm embarrassed by how much junk I have accumulated. I plan to stick to the Peace Corps packing weight limit from now on.

It seems that a month away should be more than 35 short days.

But that's the count down until I'm in Mali. It's time to get packing... or ordering from online considering the severe lack of appropriate shopping places within a decent drive (and considering current gas prices that have me wanting to ride my bike that 77 miles). When I get back from Mali, maybe that bike ride won't be so bad...

I've been going through all of my old documents, memories, and class notes that I've always kept in my desk (until my parents hijacked the desk and put the papers in a plastic tub). Refreshing and exhausting at the same time. It's a mixture of emotions and thoughts and doodles and notes and poetry and trying to be poetic. Some of the most challenging messages are those from Uganda and those developing my beliefs about development theory. I have my notes from the very first time I met with Development Ethicist, Denis Goulet, at his office in Flanner Hall. I had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. I'm still not sure that I do.

After returning from Uganda, I was pretty sure that I didn't want to return there (or to Africa in general) for a long time. Anyway, my program in Development Studies, I thought, had taught me that my place in development was on the American side of things-- where I believe that I have more influence and at least more power to make a difference considering my background. So much needs to be changed in America before development abroad (and domestic!) can occur. And is it really my place to be directing or trying to decide what development should look like? Probably not. And yet, I'm headed to Mali with the Peace Corps to do Small Enterprise Development. Let's just say that I'm trying to figure some things out and balance the desire to make the difference here and the desire to make relationships and a difference. I'm not sure that the balance exists, but I'm going to try this out!

Although I don't want to do development, per se, I want to do something related to the "positive outcomes" of "development" work. There are four critical thinkers currently pushing (or have pushed) the envelope to the brink; these people make me truly happy because I know that challengers are out there who can't be satisfied with the current situation of development thought and the harmful status quo:

- Herman Daly, who champions sustainable development that includes thoughts about the environment

- Amartya Sen, of the International Development Ethics Association, author of Development as Freedom

- Joseph Stiglitz, author of Fair Trade for All and Making Globalization Work

- the late Denis Goulet (did anyone question this!?), author of The Cruel Choice and The Uncertain Promise, among other fantastic articles on development ethics

On we go. Perhaps it's dangerous for me to be reanalyzing my development theory before landing in a completely different environment with a project and goals and AH! responsibility! I'll be back, with new authors/people to add to my list of favorites (hopefully some Malians, some women, some youth...) Now, back to packing.