At the end of my time in Mali, I picked up a book called, Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Social Movement in History is Restoring Grace, Justice and Beauty to the World, by Paul Hawken. It is a thought-provoking and inspiring chronicle of the synergy found in the intersections of the social justice, environmental protection and human rights movements. In the intro to the first chapter, I found a quote that blew my mind. I had been trying to put into words a set of conflicting ideas and emotions, and this quote from Barry Lopez in Arctic Dreams nailed it:

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the the midst of such a paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light.

And from the same book:

My heart is moved by all I cannot save:

So much has been destroyed

I have cast my lot with those

who, age after age, perversely,

with no extraordinary power,

reconstitute the world.- poet Adrienne Rich

I was thinking that I should take the time to let everyone know that I made it home safe and sound to Mason, MI on Aug 14th. I had a 24-hour delay in NYC, but I kept calm and polite and got a voucher for a good, free hotel as well as dinner and breakfast from Royal Air Maroc . After all, it was their fault I was going to have to stay overnight in NYC. I did not mind the giant, down pillow-top bed, flatscreen tv and free wireless internet at the hotel for my first night back in the US! I was even honestly surprised to see they had shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom waiting for me... I had forgotten all about service like that.

I will be living at my parents' house for a while, because I am not planning to start graduate school until next fall. I'm not sure where I'm going yet, and I haven't even taken the GRE. I believe I will be applying to Masters in Public Health (MPH) programs. I know, I need to get on it NOW. But I will say that I am incredibly happy spending the days out in the gorgeous countryside of Michigan this summer. If I hadn't done Peace Corps, I think I would have been disappointed in myself or bored to live here, but now I am enjoying the peace and sunshine and having my friends only a free phone call away.

A few highlights of the last couple weeks:

Riding 4-wheelers and talking for hours with Ashley Dalman, who came out from DC

Spending time in East Lansing with Lia, including drinking intriguiging new beer and going to a PlayMakers run clinic

More 4-wheelers, and kayaking on the Grand River, with Ashley McNamara and Lia

Making/eating delicious Indian food and going to a baseball game with Jason

Biking and running along the gorgeous stretches of country roads around my house

Going to Ryan and Whitney's gorgeous wedding outside of Ft. Wayne, IN (I only hope mine is someday as fun as theirs was!)

There are still lots of people I want to see and spend time with, so a trip to Grand Rapids is in order soon. Denver hopefully sometime this fall, as well... I'm excited to see my cousin Nathan and his fiancee Noel very soon and go on some adventures around Michigan with them. I'm also very happy to have the luck that one of my oldest/best friends, Lia, is almost as free as I am right now, and lives nearby :)

Life is kind of up in the air for a while, but I'm confident that I'll find a soft spot to land.

Best of luck to all my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers who are going through the same transitions I am right now, and to all of you who aren't finished yet. I'm honestly thinking about you constantly.

There are certain things I've caught myself doing in the last few weeks that have horrified me when I imagined doing them in the United States. They are completely culturally appropriate and expected here, but do not lend themselves into a graceful transition back into daily American life.

Trash disposal:

In Mali, I simply drop whatever piece of trash happens to be in my hand at the time on the ground wherever I find myself. (Trash= anywhere not in my hand) Malians are very casual about this, and will even toss trash on the floor in my house.This rule is true for me anywhere but in Westerners' homes or workplaces. In my house, we have several trash buckets. Away from my house, I am a dirty, rotten litterer, because there are no wastebaskets or trashcans or anything resembling public waste management anywhere. Believe me, that is a long, uphill battle in Mali. I need to re-train myself to look for trashcans before I drop that granola bar wrapper on the ground outside.

Clothing:

I have become accustomed to people who love me more when I am wearing loud "African prints" from head to toe, including a big head wrap of the same material. Also, people don't give me a second glance when I don't match at all. Envision an orange and purple skirt with a green and yellow top. No big deal, as long as my knees are covered. I've been consulting other volunteers about clothing I've had made here to see if they think I could pull it off in the US. No big surprise that 99% gets a definitive, "No." So if you see me in the US and wonder whether I looked in the mirror before I left the house, I probably did. My sense of style has just been skewed by a culture where the brighter and flashier the better, and bold prints are the rule. I'm also going to feel slightly uncomfortable if you can see my knees...

Eating: Yesterday, I made a meal for myself at my house and ate it with my hands without thinking about it. Dates are going to be a challenge.

Greeting:

Greeting is a huge part of Malian culture. In Bambara, I ask how someone passed the night (peace only), how their health is (no problems), and about their various family members (they are all there, thank God) before getting down to whatever business I may have with them. In rural areas, you greet pretty much everyone you encounter. In more urban areas like Kayes, you greet people you know, and whoever catches your eye when passing. First, I need to stop greeting everyone. I seem to remember that it's considered weird to enthusiastically greet strangers in the United States?

Second, I need to stop reflexively greeting people who have dark skin/hair/eyes in Bambara. Have you seen the movie "Mean Girls"? There is a scene in the beginning where Lindsay Lohan's character (who has just moved to the US at age 16 after growing up in Africa) greets a group of African American girls in an African dialect. Well... I greeted some African American guests of my American friends here in Bambara the other day. They just stared at me for a minute until my friend explained to me that they were from Virginia. Embarrassing, but somewhat understandable here. Gotta rein those impulses in before I step off the plane!

In other news, I sent in my first resume/cover letter for a job in the US today, so I'm on my way down that long and arduous road... I believe I am going to be living/working in the US for at least the next few years. I also need to acquire a masters degree in Public Health (MPH) if I want to be able to have the career I'm envisioning lately. Would anyone reading this list of faux pas happen to want to hire me? :)

About a month ago now I went back to visit the village that I lived in from Sept. 2008- Oct. 2009. I tried to contact people ahead of time, but the cell phone reception is so unreliable there that I wasn't able to. Basically, I just popped back into their lives out of nowhere after quite a long time.

The house that they had built for me was still standing, and also in good condition because the school teacher is living there. Oumou Fofana and her one year old son, Papa, took me in for four days in the house I used to live in. The health clinic (CSCOM) is across the street, and I had been looking forward to spending time with the pharmacist (Serenthe Sidibe) and her family. Unfortunately, I had chosen a week when she and her daughters had left to visit her family back in Senegal. I was glad that I at least got to see her husband and my little five-year-old best friend, Bani.

The new doctor of the CSCOM was immediately annoyed with me that I did not come to spend the entire rainy season working in the village. His vocal sense of entitlement to my time and attention in turn raises the hairs on my neck.

I visited the chief of the village, Sekikolo Coulibaly. He received me as warmly as ever, joking with me and teasing me. I had come bearing gifts, and I have learned that I am to give them to him to parcel out to his enormous family. Over four days, we spent many hours sitting in his room on his wooden bed talking. I would never have felt comfortable in a similar situation with pretty much any other man here, but Sekikolo has demonstrated that he respects and cares about me like family. I was feeling brave one day, and I broached the subject of HIV/AIDS. I was surprised by how much factually correct information he knew. We talked about condoms and abstinence, but his best solution/recommendation in the end was monogamy- "one woman, one man." This was interesting to me, because he himself has five wives, which is one more than technically allowed by Islamic statues. I know that he had to marry his last wife because his older brother died, leaving her a widow. I wonder if he had had a real choice culturally how many wives he would have taken. I'm just glad that information has filtered out to this little village, and that people are starting to open up about talking about HIV/AIDS.

Very much related to this, I visited my friend Bakoro Coulibaly. She is an older woman who is very on involved in community life. I feel extremely comfortable at her house with her family, and she needs little excuse to sing and/or dance.

She was a pivotal player in the projects I did with the Health Committee in the village, and since I have been gone she had been chosen by an NGO to receive further training in the health subjects of family planning and HIV/AIDS. Her face lit up as she told me what she had learned about how reproduction works and how (biologically) babies are made. I asked her, "You never knew how babies were made before this training?" and she, a woman in her fifties, shook her head. She enjoys learning, and she is respected enough in the community to broach sensitive subjects. She took me in her house to show me a wooden trunk full of birth-control pill packs and condoms that were given to her to sell in the village. I praised her up and down and encouraged her as well as my Bambara would allow. I am being replaced in this village by a new volunteer in September, and I have designated Bakoro as his/her work counterpart. I am delighted that women are being given information that can help them make decisions in their own interest about their bodies and their lives.

I did two Neem Cream demonstrations while I was there: one with the women of the Health Committee, and the other with the staff of the CSCOM.

I wanted to have a "State of the Union" meeting with the entire Health Committee, but there were marriages the whole time and many people would have been unable to attend. I talked to many of the committee members to prepare them for the idea of having a new volunteer- stressing that the new volunteer will need friends to help them adjust and learn. I was the first volunteer, and I sincerely believe that the next volunteer will have a much better experience. My time there was not perfect by any means, but I did identify a group of people to work with (Health Committee) and a much better homologue than the one I was assigned (Bakoro!).

As my time comes to an end, I am feeling very philosophical about my two years here. It will take me a while to process my experience and identify the ways in which I have changed. I am looking forward to having the people who know me well back in the US walk with me through that. Please be patient as I stumble my way through trying to articulate my thoughts and feelings. After having met a group of RPCVs (returned Peace Corps volunteers) who have traveled back to Mali, I wonder whether I will end up here again someday.

Also, the group of Peace Corps volunteers that I've bonded with and relied on for the last two years is slowly trickling its way out of the country over the next few months. It's strange to know that our experiences are so closely tied together, but I may never see many of them again. I will miss you guys, and I look forward to seeing where life takes you.

"Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends."

Maya Angelou

I would like to describe to you the absurd situation I found myself in last night.

To begin, an uncomfortable condition called "heat rash" is a distinct possibility in Mali's unrelenting climate. Miraculously, last year I didn't get it at all. The hot season is on its way out, but Kayes is still the hottest place in Mali. Everywhere else it has rained quite a bit, which also means that it has cooled down. Not Kayes!!!

I will write about all of these things in the next post, but in the last three weeks I went on an AIDS awareness bike tour, spent time in the village I used to live in, and attended our PC "Close of Service" conference. I had red, bumpy splotches on my fore-arms and chest off-and-on for those three weeks. I was in and out of air-conditioning the whole time. The itchy bumps would disappear when I was in air-conditioning for long enough, and re-appear whenever I was outside for longer than an hour.

I took the 9 hour bus (without air-conditioning) back to Kayes yesterday, growing increasingly more uncomfortable. By the time I arrived in Kayes, I had an angry, red rash on my hands and up my arms, on my shoulders, neck, back, stomach, upper thighs and face. If anyone has ever run into a patch of stinging nettle plants, that is what it felt like. It isn't a constant pain like sunburn, but it's triggered when your clothes shift, something touches you, or your skin stretches. Basically, I wanted to be completely naked and not moving. That night I didn't sleep, because everytime I moved in my sleep a large swath of my skin started stinging.

The treatment for heat rash is:

Keep cool

Take frequent showers and gently exfoliate the skin, because heat rash is essentially blocked sweat pores

Coat yourself in baby powder or Gold Bond to keep the skin dry and protected

Loose clothing

Oatmeal or baking powder cool baths

I have no air-conditioning, and the water that comes out of my shower is hot (and not adjustable), because wherever it is coming out of is hot (underground, in the sun, I don't know). Air temp is 105 degrees in the shade with a fan. To go anywhere, I have to bike. Biking= sweating! By the end of the day yesterday, I was so uncomfortable I wanted to cry. I tried briefly to do some yoga, but couldn't handle having the mat touch my skin.

At 7:30 last night, I started to fill up the bath tub. I grabbed the little baking soda I have and dumped it in. I also grabbed four frozen 1.5 liter water bottles and plopped them in the warm water. I dumped in some oatmeal and moved the fan to blow directly on me. I tried my best to submerge myself and willed myself to cool down. My face was still stinging, so I found myself mixing some oatmeal with water and rubbing it on my face. I didn't even know if it would help. I was just desperate. I did the same on my neck and shoulders. And then I sat, with the melting water bottles floating around me. I rinsed off, prayed, and went to sleep.

I still have heat rash, but today it is only annoying instead of screaming for attention. The oatmeal incident was worth it, and I'll probably do it again tonight :)

Less than two months until I'm back in the US, y'all!

I'm at the Bamako Peace Corps stage house right now, and I was sitting with another volunteer who had put on the Discovery Channel's "Planet Earth" desert episode. The Malian woman who cleans the stage house started to hover near the wide-screen plasma TV when she saw elephants. Then it switched to camels in the Gobi desert who were eating snow.

She says: Are those camels eating ICE???

Me: Yes they are.

She replied with an astonished, mouth wide-open, "huhhhhh...."

Then the camera zooms out to a wide angle view of the Earth.

"What is that?" she says.

"It's the earth- the whole thing," I reply.

Her face belies her confusion and I grab a necklace off the table with big, round beads to explain that this is the shape of the earth- the entire thing- round! She re-iterates it to me in Bamabara, and I know that she has seen a glimmer of the big picture.

Chameleons, snakes and the process of erosion follow onscreen, all to a chorus of, "Huhh?" and "ahhh" and other surprised noises. She is called away to work, and she leaves, saying in Bambara, "I have seen many things today!"

If only these types of educational shows were shown on national television here and translated in French and Bambara, it would produce an entirely different citizenry. Imagine a Mali where everyone knew the shape of the earth, the placement of continents and the science of natural processes just from watching tv. Instead, they have Brazilian soap operas dubbed in French and a never-ending supply of big, out-of-tune screaming traditional griot perfomances. Sure they have public-service announcements about malaria and AIDS, but what if entertainment could double as education here in Mali as it does successfully in so many places in the world?

This has been a question that I've been asking myself since I arrived here: How did I learn what I know?

How did I learn about nutrition? Why do I know about different systems of government? How did I learn how to interact with people who are different from me respectfully and gracefully?

In the United States, I grew up with such incredible access to information: my educated parents, decent public schooling, frequent visits to my local library, supplemental community classes, the newspaper, television (Bill Nye the Science Guy, anyone?) movies and the INTERNET.

Imagine if your parents never went to school, couldn't afford a television or radio, and there were no newspapers available, let alone the internet. What kind of understanding of the world would you have growing up? What if nothing changed with your generation?

I have come to believe that access to information is CRUCIAL to development, and to improving the standard of living of everyone on the planet. When people have no information, it is often difficult for them to make choices that are in their own self-interest. I am grateful beyond belief for the level of access to information I can expect daily simply because I am literate (and also computer literate!).

I believe that you don't need to make peoples' choices for them, but you do need to provide them with information concerning those choices. Without information, there is no real choice.

I have to say that the initial excitement of learning the date that I am leaving has worn off. Now I am facing three more months with little actual work to do to justify me being here. Hot season is still in full swing, and I am going to sleep at night while the thermometer on my alarm clock says its still 103 degrees... Not so fun. I got to Skype with the Mouton side of my family last night, which was awesome! My parents are down at my grandmother's house outside Baton Rouge, LA, and they set up the computer so that I could see everyone's faces, say hi and meet some new additions to the family. Skype is amazing!!!

Coming up at the end of this month, I am going to do an HIV/AIDS awareness bike ride at a fellow volunteer's site. We're going to travel to the villages around her town with Malian educators to support them, take pictures, and hopefully generate interest in getting tested. After that, I am going to go back to my village and stay for a few days, hopefully doing some baby-weighing and doing some neem cream demonstrations. Our "Close of Service" conference begins June 8 in Bamako, so I will be in Bamako for a few days with everyone in our stage who has made it this far- the survivors ;)

I was thinking about going back to my village, and I decided to figure out exactly what sort of terrifying insect it was that I found in my mud house on a number of occasions. Youtube helped me out- it was a Camel Spider. They're really big and terryfying, but not venomous. They do pack a powerful bite with strong, scary mandibles though. Here's a video of one that a soldier caught in Iraq:

My first encounter with these spiders was when I innocently enough took the lid off of my (empty) pot to fill it with water to cook, and found one scrambling around inside, struggling against the smooth surface to escape. I have no idea how it got into the pot in the first place! Of course, I freaked out and couldn't breathe for a minute (after I had immediately slammed the lid back down). I took the whole thing outside to the Malian women in my concession, and they laughed at my obvious terror. One woman took the spider with her bare hands and flung it in the yard out of the way somewhere and moved on with her day. It took me a while to recover.

Some months later, when my villagers had completed my new house, I woke up one morning and unzipped my mosquito net tent to find another one struggling around on the floor right next to me. Thank GOD for REI Bug Huts! It could have easily been in bed with me! I trapped it and took it outside and put it in a bucket. It looked like it was dying, but I couldn't see a reason why. Even though the spider was obviously in a weakened state, I still jumped every time it moved. I eventually took it into the field far from my house and threw it out. Ohhhh, Mali...

I'm also considering bringing my sweetheart of a cat, Mya, home to the United States. I don't know if it would be worth the extra couple hundred dollars and sleepless international flights full of people mad at me because my cat is crying from her carrier under the seat in front of me... What do you think?

Mali is a difficult place. Strange things happen often that make me wonder if I am on another planet altogether, but sometimes I hear about things that make me happy to be a Peace Corps Mali volunteer, as opposed to being in another country. For example, take this headline from freedomnewspaper.com:

Gambia Detains US Peace Corps Volunteer, and Six Other Environmental Staff Detainees Accused Of “ Undermining President Jammeh’s” Illegal Sand Mining Activities

You can read the whole story here. It seems that a Peace Corps environment volunteer, and the Gambians he was working with, stood up to the wrong illegal sand-mining operation. He accidentally targeted one that was being run by the President! So the President of course had only one option- to arrest the Peace Corps volunteer and his colleagues! If you're not picking up on the absurdity here, I don't know how else to spell it out for you...Today I'm okay with being in Mali, where I'm not going to be arrested for NOT doing something illegal.

A while ago, I asked my mom to write something about what it has been like to be the parent of a Peace Corps volunteer in Mali. My parents have been incredibly supportive and patient through this entire experience, and I was wondering what it was like for them. My mom wrote me the following letter, which I very much enjoyed reading. I am so thankful that I have the family that I do, and I am looking forward to being back in MI in August! My Dear Daughter, You asked me to describe my experiences as a parent at home, watching your Peace Corps journey from afar.

As you near the end of your 2 yrs and I am now looking forward to your return, I look back on the experience as an overall wonderful time of growth and insight for me as a parent. I knew Africa was there, that there is abject poverty, a void of education, disease, violence, starvation. But, as an American woman, I really gave little thought to the the subject as I got on with my comfortable, busy life. Then one day you told us that you were in the process of applying to Peace Corps. Rock my world! As you went about making your dream of being a part of this service come true, I struggled to hold my tongue and not pass my fears on to you. I asked you many questions and you always had good answers. I had to let go and trust that you would make good, informed decisions as you always had. You requested a French speaking country where you could be in community development. While I was hoping for the Carribean somewhere, you were looking at West Africa. It seemed like forever but you were finally given your country assignment--Mali. Man, could it be any worse? A landlocked country not even near the ocean, hot, desert, poor and so far away. I was horrified but you assured me you could make it work. You studied web sites, made contacts and found information about what to take with you to make life more bearable. There were so many different recommendations as everyone had different ideas of what was essential to keep sanity. You could only take 2 bags/50lbs on the plane. So the fun began...First I flew to Denver and helped you dissolve your household there, move back home to stage your departure. There was a big bon voyage party with friends and family. You went to Louisiana for a visit with family there. There were lots of questions and it was all very exciting, but for me there was much angst also. I wondered if this was what it would feel like to send a child to war...We bought a Solio so you might be able to charge a cell phone which you would purchase in Mali. We got a laptop in case you might be able to contact home or journal your life in Mali. We piled and sorted and re-piled and re-sorted until it was time to pack. Keeping busy helped keep the scary thoughts at bay---moving forward, being a good supporter, helping you out...Then came your departure day. We packed your bags(a major undertaking), weighed them, made sure you had all required documents a took you to Detroit airport. We hugged, I cried and you went in. I waited by the curb to be sure you didn't need to leave something behind and I saw you repacking a bag (oh no!). But, finally you were checked in so you came back out for another hug and to reassure me that you were fine. I couldn't even give you money for the trip--no use for it there. I had to trust that the Peace Corps would take care of you. And, I knew you were a smart, careful person with good instincts. Bon Voyage!I didn't know when we would hear from you again but you did call and let me know you were in Philadelphia for the staging and all bags were fine. Then it was silent, no contact-- did you make it to Mali, when would you call again? I was suffering separation anxiety, loss of control. I don't think I slept the night through for awhile. You were on your way but to what? Where would you stay in Mali? Two years....the "big bad world" lurking...Mali...You did your training--2 mo. of language, cultural studies and more specific information about your job as Health Education volunteer. Slowly you learned how to navigate your new surroundings. The 'home stay' was an eye opener for you and I heard about the terrible health practices in Mali, the lack of clean water, spread of disease from lack of basic health standards, lack of education and knowledge that is so basic to us that we don't even think about it. You got your assignment. You would be the first volunteer in a small village, no electricity, no running water, no infrastructure, no other Americans, no place of your own. You would have to stay with the village chief and his family in their compound. Now I knew that just being in Mali was bad, but this was even worse. You got a cell phone but had no coverage in the village. After time we worked out a day a week that you rode your bicycle to a "bus stop", caught the local bus and went in to a nearby larger village to shop and I could call you then. Each call was a treasure for me--I could relax a bit until the next week. At least I knew you were alive. But, I heard in your voice the isolation, the frustration of working with a population that had to start from square one in regards to health practices. You were sick often, it was hot with no relief, boredom was the enemy as you could not "share" with the Malians as there was no common ground and you were not fluent enough in Bambara. The Malian midwife assigned as your homologue was negative and no help at all but rather undermined many of your efforts. The food was worse than awful, it was unclean, tasteless. The people were rude and treated you like a zoo animal, mocked you, poked at you. I wanted to tell you to pack and come home when you had giardia, or a respiratory infection. It just didn't seem worth it from my standpoint, but I knew you would not be happy with yourself if you didn't persist. I let you know that it was your decision and that leaving in no way would be a bad thing in anyone's eyes, you had done more than most people in staying even a year. You wanted to stay. I was so proud of your fortitude. Tough girl! Better person than I. Despite all odds against you, you always seemed to find something good that was happening,-- you made friends with the doctor and the pharmacist, the chief was like a grandfather to you and he seemed to protect you as you were his guest, one of the young girls was good to you. After several months of adjusting, living among the people, gaining their trust and respect, you began to make some headway. You conceptualized a Health Committee and made it happen and began to see some of the Malians take an interest in improving their health practices. The village finally built your house after 10 months or so and you were doing better. You were invited to assist with training the next group of volunteers--building the resume'. But, when you returned to the village you found your house being eaten by termites--apparently whatever they do to keep termites out of their homes they didn't bother to do for you. I was incensed and ready to fly over and get you, but you were patient and kept your cool. You had hopes of getting another assignment for your second year in Mali, which finally did happen. While I jumped up and down and yelled Yippee!, you had some mixed emotions leaving the village with what you considered unfinished business. But life was about to take a positive turn and you now thought you could make it through the second year. And now you're on the homeward stretch. I am so proud of you. There is a time anomaly that occurs when you are embarking on a new journey--looking ahead seems like forever, but then poof, it's over and looking back it was a quick blip. I tell others that you and others sharing a similar sacrifice are an inspiration and source of hope. You are the best ambassadors the US has. In the news we see so much negativity about the youth of today, but you and your friends represent the many young people who will be the leaders of tomorrow, the ones who will hopefully craft balanced, humane policy for this country. I thank you for following your dream, for enduring and persisting and for educating me and letting me share vicariously an experience of a lifetime. Much love,Mom

I just got word that I am going to have a plane ticket back to the US on Aug. 12!!!

I am going to be done here, and will be flying back to MI to regroup and re-adjust. It's so nice to have a solid date in mind!!! I'm fine-tuning my resume, and starting to apply to jobs. Wish me luck!

This week, to my absolute joy, I have had an interesting cultural event to attend in the evenings here in Kayes. This year is the 50th anniversary of Mali's independence from colonial France. To celebrate, the Ministry of Culture in Kayes invited local schools to compete in a themed talent competition. There are 14 schools total participating. In the mornings, it is the 1st cycle (elementary school), and then in the evenings it is 2nd and 3rd cycle (middle and high school). The middle school that I have developed a relationship with competed on the first night, and I enjoyed it so much that I invited my fellow Kayes PVC, Luis, the next night.

There were several categories being judged, including:

Lecture (a student takes a page written in French and does their best to read it correctly)

Solo singing

A group song

Solo "imitation d'artiste" (lip-synching- Malians love to lip-synch!)

Group imitation d'artiste

Short theater piece

Choreographed dance

I have now seen 4 schools do each of these 7 performances.

Mali is interesting, because even as they are encouraging creativity in children, they stifle it. For example, all of the songs were the same across the board (each solo lip synching performance was the same song, each choreographed dance was to the same song, etc.) Maybe it made it easier for the judges to compare "apples to apples," but could you imagine a school talent competition in America where every student sang the same exact song?

One area that I saw a lot of creativity was the theater piece. There was a mandatory theme of "immigration." The first one I saw was by far the best. I had just been talking to the doctor at my CSCOM, Oumar Magassa, about the fact that a high percentage of Malians living in Kayes have family members living in Europe, and are receiving support from them. Oumar and I talked about how that creates a culture of focus and dependence on foreign money, and an expectation that someone who is successful enough to move abroad will move abroad and send money back. The message of this particular theater piece was the imperative of Malians to improve Mali themselves, without relying on external resources and help. The kids acted out that is the responsibility of Malians to work hard and to stay in Mali to develop it with their talents and money. This absolutely blew my mind.

When I ride through Kayes, I cannot go more than a minute without a child yelling at me in terrible French, "White person, give me (x amount) of money!!!!!" They expect that of course the white foreigner will give them money- its what we do! (Which is why I now listen to music on my Ipod to tune all of that out). The scene for this attitude and behavior has historically been set by all sorts of foreign governments, NGOs, missionaries and individuals who come to Africa with handouts, requiring nothing of the local population. As Peace Corps volunteers, we believe that people have the power to help themselves when equipped with knowledge and skills, and we focus on projects that empower the local population to create change that continues after we are gone. I do not know a single Peace Corps volunteer who has not been driven to the brink of insanity at some point in their service by a Malian demanding that the volunteer give them the money/item they want with no reason or effort on their part, or demanding that the volunteer do for them something they could do for themselves. For these students to assert that they don't want to continue to rely on France and other foreign countries is a giant step forward in the right direction. Right attitude precipitates right action.

France's colonization still looms large in the Malian national psyche. It leads to all sorts of interesting ironies, such as students speaking proudly and almost militantly about independence from France... in French. Another theater piece took place in two different settings: Mali and France. For many Malians, the world is divided just like that- half of the world they know is Mali, and the other half is France. Many don't know much about the African countries not bordering Mali, and many don't know that America is not right next to France. In their minds, the world is a dichotomy between poor, black Mali and rich, white France. It's as simple as that. There was one particularly uncomfortable moment for me the first night when I was the only white face in the 200 person crowd: the students were cheering about their victory from their colonial oppressors... and everyone there probably assumed that I was French. I was really glad I'm not French at that particular moment in time. Americans have their own historical (and present) issues to feel guilty about, but the colonization of West Africa is guilt that we don't have to carry.

I took some videos of the different acts, but the quality isn't very good, because the show was outside, at night with poor lighting. Even so, you can see why I enjoyed this event.

Since I now have the privilege of living in the regional transit house (with electricity, running water and internet), I am uniquely qualified for certain Peace Corps work. Simply because I can easily and frequently communicate with our staff in Bamako, I was one of few people in the region who could manage setting up our Kayes regional meeting in March. Also, I didn't really mind doing it. I had help from Billy in my region, and Artie who came out from Mopti. Budgets are not my forte, and I definitely needed to get some experience managing them for whatever it is I'll do next.

The participants included:

All 8 of us Kayes volunteers- Mike and Marisa, Luis, Matt, Jim, Billy, Jeremy and I

6 Malian work counterparts (homologues)

Our Country Director, Mike Simsik

20 representatives of community organizations/associations (only for one morning of the workshop)

Two "language and culture facilitators," (Peace Corps translators)

Four other Peace Corps staff from Bamako

My job was to arrange for the meeting room, housing for out-of-town invitees, food for everyone, the agenda of the 4-day meeting, etc.

All in all, I think it turned out really well. I got lucky with the food, which I paid to be provided by the Catholic Center where the meeting was held. Well-fed people are (for the most part) happy people.

It was really nice to have our Country Director (read: head honcho of Peace Corps Mali) in Kayes for three days. He took us all out to dinner and answered all of the questions that came up from being in a more informal setting than a meeting at the Bamako office.

A hi-light of the meeting for me was the Neem Cream demonstration. I hadn't really prepared myself to explain it in Bambara, but the Peace Corps staff that was there helped out with that. Neem is a certain type of tree that grows everywhere in Mali. It is even called Maliyirinin in Bambara, or "little Mali tree." Malians use the tree for traditional medicines, including making a tea with the leaves to cure malaria. My APCD sent me the recipe to make an anti-mosquito cream from boiled leaves, soap and regular cooking oil, so I decided to try it out at our training. It's a great idea, because it is easy to make, all the ingredients are readily available and inexpensive, and it actually works. Mosquitoes that transmit malaria are active from dusk til dawn, so sleeping under a mosquito net at night helps prevent getting bitten. The problem is that Malians sit outside 99% of the time (you would too here- it's HOT!). This means that in the evenings or at night when they are sitting outside talking, eating or drinking tea they are also being bitten by mosquitoes. During that time, I would put on my trusty Cutter or OFF bug spray, but that doesn't exist here, and the mosquito repellent creams that are sold here are really expensive. That's where neem cream comes in.

Take two bars of soap and shave them into tiny pieces. For best results, put the soap in a mortar and pound it into a powder.Boil a couple handfuls of clean neem leaves in one liter of water for 20 minutes, then strain the leaves out while you pour the water into a bucket with the soap shavings.

Stir until the soap is dissolved in the water.Add a liter of regular cooking oil and stir.Explain that the cream is for use externally on your skin in the evening/at night. Also, it could be an income-generating activity- it could be made to be sold for a profit.Et voila!

I got a really positive reaction from the Malian homologues who saw the demonstration, so I am working on finding community groups around Kayes who are interested in learning how to make neem cream.

The last night of the meeting, we volunteers made dinner-Mexican Night- at my house for our homologues and PC staff. Making tacos:

The Malians actually ate the tacos! I daresay they even liked them, except for the tortillas, which were really different for them. Malians in general are not very adventurous eaters, so I was happy that they were satisfied with dinner.

A fellow volunteer here in Kayes introduced me to K'Naan's music recently. I started researching him a little, and I've been transfixed by his story, and the story of his birth place- Somalia.

"Born in Mogadishu, Somalia, just as the civil unrest that rocked the country was beginning, rapper K'NAAN spent the early years of his life trying to avoid death and listening to the hip-hop records sent to him from America by his father, who had left Somalia earlier. When K'NAAN (whose name means "traveler" in Somali) was 13, he, his mother, and his two siblings were able to leave their homeland and join relatives in Harlem, where they stayed briefly before moving to Rexdale, Ontario, where there was a large Somali community. As soon as his English started improving, he began rapping, and in tenth grade he dropped out of school and traveled around North America for two years, performing occasionally. Through his friendship with Sol Guy, part of promotion team Direct Current Media, K'NAAN was able to perform at the United Nations' 50th anniversary concert in 1999, held in Geneva, where he used his platform to publicly criticize the United Nations' handling of the Somali crisis in the 1990s." http://www.starpulse.com/Music/K%27Naan/Biography/ Because of media attention and coverage, Somalia may be best known today for the incidents of piracy that frequently occur off of the coast. Wikipedia offers an incredibly long list of ships that have been attacked off the coast of Somalia. K'Naan, in this video, argues that this modern piracy arose initially in response to Somalians defending themselves from foreign corporations dumping nuclear waste in Somali waters. It eventually evolved into a lucrative endeavor for citizens of this poor, war-torn country.

While pirates are making their living off-shore, the inhabitants are suffering through a brutal civil war terra firma led by Al Shabaab, Islamic extremists allied with Al Qaeda. This France 24 special report (2009) on the situation in Mogadishu, the capital, gives the perspective of some of the African peace-keeping troops.

In short, the situation in Somalia is desperate. K'Naan uses music to grab peoples' attention and tell them about what the world is like from his unique perspective. Some of his songs are really heavy, like "Fatima," which laments the death of a child-hood love who was killed in Somalia before he moved to the US. K'Naan is an alternative to violent, materialistic rap with no message other than instant gratification. Because of that, he's my current favorite- enjoy!

I left off my last blog after I had decided to go to Morocco. I successfully bought a plane ticket for two days later thanks to my parents, whose Western Union skills are great now. (I had enough money for the ticket in my Malian bank account, but no way to get it out in Dakar!) I need to be clear that Medy speaks Arabic, French and Wolof (Senegal local language), whereas I speak English, French and Bambara. The whole vacation was like taking a French test I forgot to study for!

Medy loaned me some locks for my luggage, because he assured me that, "They (airline staff) will steal everything otherwise." We landed in Casablanca, and his dad picked us up and took us to their house. It was a little bit awkward at first, even though Medy didn't seem to notice. His mom didn't really know what to do with me at first, and I don't blame her- who is this girl who flew to Morocco after knowing her son for only 4 days? We created a game plan of what to see and when. Unfortunately, it was springtime, and Morocco is basically the same weather as southern Europe, so it was cold and rainy quite often. I had just come from a beach vacation in Dakar... and thus had nothing other than sandals for footwear. I brought one pair of jeans and a sweater, but that was it. So please don't judge me by my vacation wardrobe- I ended up borrowing some clothes from his 16 yr old sister, Soukaina, who was a great sport about it. His father is an architect, his mother is a doctor, and he also has a 7 year old brother.

One of the first things we saw was the mosque called Hassan II, named after they guy who built it. It is the biggest mosque in Africa, and is beautifully located right on the ocean, with waves crashing around its base. There are these deliciously light and fluffy coconut cookies that are sold outside the mosque- I could have eaten my weight in them. Soooo much better than the dense, tasteless "gateau" that are sold by the roadside everywhere in Mali!

Later, we took a walk on "The Corniche," or basically the nicest piece of coastline in Casablanca. Apparently, it was also a pet project of the current King, who wanted to encourage tourism. Casablanca is more the economic capital of Morocco, whereas Rabat is the political capital- kind of like New York City and Washington D.C. for us. The Corniche is covered with beautiful, country-club like restaurants and pools and cool bars and outdoor cafes. All of this is literally right on the ocean. I could spend the entire summer there with no complaint.

The next day, he and his mom and I went to Rabat to see a royal tomb- the tomb of Mohammed V. It was beautifully and intricately decorated, as I came to realize that everything in Morocco is. We went to the "Mega Mall" and I felt like I was back in the US or Bangkok. They had escalators! It is a pristine mall with 3 floors including an ice skating rink and a bowling alley! I could not believe that I was still in Africa. I've been describing Morocco to lots of people as a "cheaper, more interesting version of Europe." The whole experience was topped off with the best ice cream I'd ever had in my life- Ferrero Rocher. I have to find it again somewhere!

Part of the reason that I wanted to go with Medy when he offered is that I would get to have a "homestay" of sorts. It was really the way that I wanted to do it- hanging out with actual Moroccans and getting to see their homes, their daily lives, eat homemade food. Everyone I met was incredibly welcoming, and I was glad the entire time that I wasn't staying in a hotel and eating at restaurants. I ate home-cooked meals by both of his grandmothers, and it was the best food I've ever had in my life. I don't even know how to describe it, so I'll just put up a couple pictures:

And then one evening his mom made freshly fried calimari and fish, french fries, salad, spinach salad, olive salad and traditional Moroccan bread. I had not had calamari in sooooooo long, much less FRESH calamari!

We headed by train to Marrakech after that and spent three days there. It was definitely a tourist spot, but I enjoyed being there. We spent time walking around looking at mosques, markets, sitting in cafes drinking mint tea and hanging out with some of his friends that live there. I did the bulk of my souvenir shopping here and came back with some cool stuff (you might get some when I get home!) Here are some of my favorite pictures from Marrakech:

The last time I saw a cobra, it was in my house... the look on my face says it all! La Mosquee Koutoubia backlit over the municipal souk (market)

The market at night (above)A man making by hand the tiny tiles that Morocco is covered with (below)

We took the train back to Casablanca, and I visited Mc Donalds (Mali does not have Mc Donalds). The "Mc Arabia" sandwich was on a pita, and the ad featured a henna-ed hand mysteriously sprinkling what could only be delicious spices on it. Turned out pretty tasty. All in all, the traditional Moroccan diet seems to be very healthy and well-balanced. The meals his grandmothers and mom made were awesome, but just like in America, there is fast food all over. I found myself having to explain to Medy that I did not, in fact, want a hamburger and fries for both lunch and dinner, because that was his preferred cuisine.

We rented a bright yellow Kia to drive to Tanger. It is where Africa and Europe meet (Morocco and Spain). Ferries transport people and goods back and forth across the Strait of Gibraltar. We even saw some boys waiting for trucks to climb under and hide to make the passage- one got under a truck while we watched from a cafe. We didn't have long in Tanger, but it had warmed up enough for me to wear my Chacos, so I was up for a walk around the hilly city. It is even more European than the rest of Morocco. One man handed me a menu in Spanish before I asked for one in French. If any of you have seen The Bourne Ultimatum, Tanger is where the final chase scene takes place. We drove back to Casablanca and I had a few hours to pick up some final gifts before we left for the airport. The flight back was fine, and Danielle Bowers (who teaches in Dakar) picked me up at the airport when I got to Dakar. I stayed at her apartment for a few hours then she took me to the bus station at 7 am to get on my way to Mali. Made it back relatively quickly with no problems.

Morocco was awesome, and I am so grateful for the hospitality of Medy and his family. It's another place I can add to my list of "could possibly be happy living and working here." We'll see :)

A fellow volunteer once described his walk to the market here in Kayes in the middle of the day as, "It was like walking in front of a giant hair dryer." He's pretty spot-on. If you ever want to do something fun when you think of me, just go to weather.com and look up the forecast for Kayes, Mali. For example, at 7pm right now it is 108 degrees and "feels like 110." The weekend forecast I have to look forward to- without air-conditioning:

Friday Apr 9 Interior Enhancements

Sunny High

112°F

Low

81°F Precip: 0% Wind: W

at 8 mph UV Index: 10+ Extreme Humidity:19% Sunrise:6:36 AM Sunset:6:59 PM

Mainly sunny. Highs 110 to 114F and lows in the low 80s. Saturday 10 Flu Activity Map

Sunny High

111°F

Low

82°F Precip: 0% Wind: W

at 10 mph UV Index: 10+ Extreme Humidity:21% Sunrise:6:35 AM Sunset:6:59 PM close details

Sunshine. Highs 109 to 113F and lows in the low 80s. Sunday 11 Pollen: Early Spring?

Sunny High

111°F

Low

81°F Precip: 0% Wind: WNW

at 10 mph UV Index: 10+ Extreme Humidity:23% Sunrise:6:35 AM Sunset:6:59 PM

Sunshine. Highs 109 to 113F and lows in the low 80s.

I really think they're wrong about it getting down past 90 degrees at night, because I have a thermometer in my room, and I haven't seen it dip below 95 in a while...

Kayes is supposed to be one of the hottest inhabited places in the world because of the iron ore deposits in the ground and/or surrounding mountains, which absorb, retain and reflect the blistering sun. It literally hurts my skin to be in the sun in the middle of the day. And yes, I wear sunscreen. So if any of you were wondering why I am still so white after living for almost two years here... I stay in the shade when I can and the sunscreen keeps me nice and pasty when I can't.

Yeah, I know- no one is going to believe I was in Africa :)

On Feb. 11th, I left Mali in a big bus without air-conditioning or windows that open. It took about 20 hours to get from Kayes, Mali to Dakar, Senegal. There were 20 other Mali PCVs on my bus, and 70 on another bus all headed to WAIST- the West African International Softball Tournament that is held in Dakar every year.

Cheering on the "A" team

The countries closest to Senegal with Peace Corps presence usually show up and put together a team. This year there were volunteers from: Senegal, Mali, The Gambia, and "refugees" from the closed programs of Guinea, Mauritania and Madagascar.

Feb. 12

We found the housing that Peace Corps Senegal had set up for us and then went out to The Viking in Dakar to listen to some live music.

Feb. 13

I watched a few softball games at the American Club and then left with some other volunteers for downtown. We saw the presidential palace. We were walking along the road on the coast called "Corniche Est" when I had my first near-pickpocketing. There are GORGEOUS hotels and restaurants along this stretch of coast, and the thieves hang out to catch tourists. I got a falafel sandwich at Ali Baba's and then we went to N'Ice Cream got triple chocolate ice cream. It was heaven- like a creamy brownie. As the sun was setting, we stopped on a beach where fishermen bring in their daily catches. There is a small market next to it, and we walked around and saw barracuda, moray eel, flounder, octopus, shrimp, groper, parrot fish and all sorts of other strange sea animals. That night, we went back into downtown for some Portugese-influenced Senegalese food at Chez Lutcha. The menu has about 200 items, the portion sizes are huge and the food is more than worth the price. I got a delicious shrimp curry.

Feb. 14

We took the ferry to Goree Island off the coast of Dakar. It was where slaves were taken prior to being shipped to North and South America and Europe. Now days it is a beautiful island with brightly-painted buildings where lots of artists and shop-keepers live.

There is a Musee des Esclaves (Slave Museum) which is where the slaves were actually housed. It has been restored into a historical site and museum. The ambiance is expectedly heavy inside.

Shackles used in the slave tradeAfterwards, we ate catfish sandwiches on the beach and watched some men practice traditional Senegalese wrestling- I thought their singlets were a nice touch. That evening was a Peace Corps party at the Oceanium, where I met Medy Naamane. Happy Valentine's Day to me, because he invited me to Morocco the next day. The next day I also decided I would go.

While all the other Peace Corps volunteers I traveled to Senegal with left for various destinations (St. Louis, Toubab Diallo, The Gambia) I stuck around Dakar and bought a plane ticket to Casablanca, where Medy's family lives.

More about that leg of my vacation to come :) Once again, you can see ALL my pictures from my trip on facebook, or by following this link.

I just finished putting up all my pictures from Senegal and Morocco on facebook. They're all tagged and explained, so check them out on facebook, or if you don't have an account, you can still look at them by using this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2907970&id=2307444&l=1939a0e0aa

Happy Easter, and enjoy!

On the ferry to Goree Island off the coast of Dakar with fellow Peace Corps volunteers Chris and Hunter.

I will start by saying that I recently took a week-long vacation in Dakar, Senegal, and then another 8 day vacation in Morocco. When I returned, I had to finish up arrangements for a four-day workshop in Kayes for 8 volunteers, their Malian work partners and some Peace Corps staff. I have great pictures from all of these events!!! That being said, unfortunately the charger for my laptop is broken and I cannot access my pictures on this computer (in our Peace Corps regional office) My parents are working on getting me a new charger. In the meantime I will write about all of it and add pictures later, I suppose. Starting tomorrow :)

Half-way through March right now means... April, May, June, July... AUGUST? SEPTEMBER?

5 or 6 more months and then I'm back in the US and this whole 2 years in Mali is a memory. Strange.

Peace Corps volunteers are sent abroad with three official goals in mind (taken from Peace Corps website):

Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.The first goal needs careful planning, lots of time and attention, language skills, patience, cultural understanding, and heaps of sheer luck to achieve. An example of this would be me working with people in the village I lived in to teach them about health, and also how to translate that knowledge into community projects through forming a Health Committee of interested people to work together. Other volunteers train Malians how to construct improved wells/latrines, do cost-benefit analysis and accounting for their businesses, or how to use natural pesticides for increased crop production.

As for the second and third goals, sometimes we volunteers intentionally set out to fulfill them, but more often than not they just happen. Sometimes they even sneak up on us.

For the second goal, I have:

- Brought an album of photos of my friends and family from the US so that I can explain American family structure, diversity in America (I'm friends with Asian and African Americans), what snow is like, male-female friendships, etc.

- Cooked American food for a number of Malians to be able to talk about how we eat, including specific foods, portion sizes, utensils instead of hands, use of tables and chairs, men and women eating together in a family instead of separately, etc.

- Answered every kind of question about the US you could imagine. I have learned not to assume any prior knowledge about the US or the rest of the world on the part of Malians, especially when speaking with Malians from small villages. I get everything from, "So, America is next to France, right?" to "Are there black people in America?" to "In America, how much money does a guy have to give a girl's parents to get to marry her?" I answer those types of questions on a daily basis.

In addition, every day I simply live here I am also achieving this goal. Every time a Malian sees me riding my bike, they realize American women can ride bikes (most Malian women never have). When I go to the market and buy vegetables, the sellers think, "So that's what those foreigners eat." The moment I step out of my house, I am being watched. Where I go, how I get there, what I wear, my hairstyle, how I speak and interact... all of it communicates a message about what we Americans are like. It's a strange feeling to attract so much attention simply by existing.

Today this second goal ambushed me as I walked towards my compound. To preface the story, it is important to know that there is a common misconception in Mali that there are 52 states in the United States of America. I've heard rumors that some Malian geography textbooks even say this in print. The confusion may have something to do with Hawaii and Alaska, or maybe Puerto Rico and American Samoa? Today that was the topic of an informal poll outside my concession. My fellow volunteers Billy and Jeremy are currently staying at my house. As Billy and I were returning from an errand, my guardian, Sidy, called me over. He was sitting with five of his guy friends, and a couple of them had notebooks in hand. Sidy asked me, "Alyssa, how many states are there in your country?" There was a pregnant pause as I stopped to make sure I understood what he had asked me in French. His friend expectantly showed me a hand-drawn map of the US in his notebook with the states labeled. I replied, "Fifty." At that point, the guy with the notebook launched into victorious celebration. Billy, who was standing next to me, confirmed my opinion for the benefit of those who had obviously been on the other side of the argument. They thanked us, and Billy and I continued into my house.

Billy and I related the experience to Jeremy, who was inside eating an egg sandwich. He told us incredulously that minutes earlier they had asked him the same question when he returned from the sandwich-maker. I guess these Malian guys needed at least three of us people from the US to tell them how many states there are in the country we live in to dissuade their previous opinion. Talk about a high burden of proof! But now they've had their question answered, and they know more (accurate information) about the US than they did this morning. At that particular moment I hadn't intended to teach anyone anything, but voila!

And for the third goal, I fulfill it firstly by learning about Malians and Mali myself through: simply living here, speaking with Malians in Bambara (the local language), working on projects with Malians, traveling in Mali, eating Malian food, shopping in Mali, going to cultural events like weddings and baptisms. etc. All of those things have provided me with unique experiences and knowledge that have shaped and adjusted my worldview.

I also fulfill the third goal by sharing what I've learned with you guys in the US- or wherever you happen to be reading this! That's the main reason I started blogging. It takes a little bit of work, but is is worth it to be able to reflect on my experiences here and translate them into a medium that (hopefully) promotes understanding about Mali, Malians and Peace Corps in an interesting way.

How am I doing? :)

I went to the tailor this morning, and then to the bank to take out money for my upcoming Senegal/The Gambia vacation. On my bike ride home through Kayes on the main road that runs alongside the Senegal River, I was stunned to see a stretch Hummer limo cruising past me. A google pic of what I'm talking about:

I gawked shamelessly for a full 30 seconds before resuming my ride. It absolutely blew my mind! A fifteen minute bike ride from where I was, people are living without a water source or electricity. The amount of money that someone spent on that car could have fed/clothed/housed a lot of Malians for a year or two. Who the heck was in that Hummer?! Even Tiken Jah Fakoly (see earlier posts) only had a regular white Hummer, not a stretch Hummer! It was one of the most striking juxtapositions of luxurious wealth vs. desperate poverty that I've ever experienced in my life. It was like the car appeared out of another world, and then returned to its paralell universe (where wealth like that is possible) as it cruised over the bridge to Bamako and out of sight.

Oumar Magassa, the doctor of my CSCOM, and IAnd in my living room

Two of the teachers- sitting around, drinking teaSome more teachers, Luis, and IYeah, Peace Corps!

Last weekend was an eventful one for me.

First, I was invited to a section of Kayes called Bencounda by the midwife, Adame Maiga, of my CSCOM (community health center). I decided to put my bike in the back of a taxi and have the taxi driver figure out where Adame's house was for me. I never would have found it on my own! Twelve other women from the neighborhood came over to Adame's house for their weekly meeting of the Womens' Association of Bencounda. They have been an association for three years. The 61 members pay 1000 CFA per month, roughly two dollars, as a membership fee. Currently, they take their dues to make peanut butter, and sell it to raise more money. All in all, they've gotten past the first steps of being an association. They would like me to give them ideas and guidance on their peanut butter production, and other income-generating projects, like making soap or neem (mosquito-repellent) cream. It's not really my area of expertise, but I'm going to see what I can do. Really, it's mostly an excuse for the most wealthy/prestigious women of the neighborhood to get together on Saturday evenings and gossip. I don't mind showing up, even if only reinforce to them that they DO have the power to make positive changes in their community, and to applaud their efforts and achievements.

I left at 7, as the sun was setting. The first part of my bike ride home was on a very poor, bumpy road. I was glad to make it to pavement, where there are also sporadically- distributed streetlights, before the sun set completely. By the light of my headlamp, I spied two fellow non-Africans. I stopped to say hello, and discovered two French people who spoke English with almost an American accent. Since it was a Saturday night, I invited them and their two other friends to Hotel Khasso near my house. It is right on the Senegal River, and has a nice outdoor bar/garden sitting area. I gave them my number and directions, then hopped back on my bike.

Only about ten minutes later, I spied a blond-haired man eating street food. I stopped again and introduced myself. George Butler, a British illustrator, had to work that evening and couldn't join the French people and I. But he was staying another couple days, so we exchanged numbers.

I had a great time with the one French girl and three French guys who came to Hotel Khasso, although I can only remember one name- Pierre. Oops? They are from Paris and Bordeaux, and are traveling through West Africa.

I invited George over the next day around lunch time and he arrived at the same time as the doctor of my CSCOM- Oumar Magassa. I had made lunch, and we all ate together. It turns out that George is on a six month trip through West Africa, and is a published illustrator who is chronicling his travels for Times magazine online. Really interesting guy, so check out his web portfolio of illustrations!

At 3, the teachers from the middle school I'm working with came over- minus the women. So I spent the aftenoon with my fellow Kayes volunteer, Luis, and seven male Malian teachers. We did some cultural exchange activities with the help of Youtube, drank tea and talked about the reproductive health/AIDS "peer-educator" project that I'm working on with them and the help of another Kayes volunteer. They left about 5pm.

That was definitely the most eventful and fun weekend I've had since I came to Peace Corps Mali. I love meeting new people- travelers especially- and also strengthening work partnerships and friendships with Malians. It's nice that while Kayes is definitely NOT a tourist destination, it is along the main route between Bamako and Dakar. Because it is a convenient stopping point, I get to meet people taking photos, doing research and just taking it all in and enjoying what life has to offer.

If you were to ask me about Malian food, most of what I have to say would be a complaint. I can't say I didn't expect the food to be less than delicious- Mali is, after all, the third poorest country in the world. If they can't even afford enough food for their families, are they really going to spring for the things that make food good, like spices? For instance, food here is often over-cooked, protein-deficient, tasteless (or worse, tastes like dried fish), without vitamins or nutrients, aesthetically un-appealing, and is sometimes contaminated with various microbes/parasites that make me violently ill.

For clarity sake, Malians' diet is extremely carbohydrate (millet, rice, potato) heavy. Common sauces on these carbohydrates are:

- boiled okra (complete with slimy, snot-like consistency): gwa nan

- a tomato paste-based sauce heavy on the oil and onions: nanji

- various green leaf sauces (yes, they taste like leaves): fakoye, saga saga

- peanut butter sauce that is watered-down and has garlic and other spices sometimes: tiga dege nan

All in all, I have not had good experiences Malian food. That being said, produce is usually locally-grown and organic. I appreciate being able to bike down to the market every day and get fresh tomatos, squash, lettuce, eggs, etc. I cook every meal for myself, unless I accept an invitation to a Malian's house. Some dishes I have made:

- homemade granola: oats, cinnamon, brown sugar, coconut, and dried fruit

- winter squash and carrot curry soup

- lettuce salads with lots of veggies

- omelets

- spring rolls: cabbage, carrots, mint, cucumber, tuna

- No-bake cookies: butter, cocoa, sugar, vanilla extract and oats

- potato salad

- tuna salad

One food I have discovered in Mali that I could eat EVERY DAY is called "fromage frais." It comes in a little plastic dish with an aluminum peel-off top, like some yogurts in the US. It is actually manufactured in Mali by "Mali Lait." I had no idea what it was when I first decided to try it, but I loved it immediately. Ironically, if I had never come to Mali, I may never have been acquainted with this delicious food, because it is a difficult-to-find delicacy in the US. Here is what the BBC Food Glossary has to say about it:

"A fresh, low-fat curd cheese (similar to cottage cheese but processed until the texture is smooth and lump-free) made from pasteurised cows' milk. Fromage frais has very little fat but there are ones that have cream added which make them better for cooking. It's delicious eaten on its own or with honey or fresh fruit purée. It can also be used in desserts or savoury dishes. Use it to make savoury sauces or as a topping for jacket potatoes."

The texture is close to the thickness of sour cream and tastes like plain yogurt, only sweeter and much creamier. I confess, I just sat down and ate two 200g dishes of it plain for dinner. I have to bike about 15 minutes to get to the boutique where it is sold in Kayes, which is probably a good thing for tempering my addiction. At 500 CFA a dish, it costs the same as a Coke or a beer, and I'd much rather indulge in this :) Thank you, Mali, for manufacturing at least one delicious food item I can find in Kayes!

I got some great news two days ago. My APCD, Claudine Adou-Lath, visited the village near Diema in the Kayes region that I lived in July 2008- Oct. 2009. I moved out of the village for a number of reasons, but definitely not because of the people. They were great! Claudine went there to visit and ask some questions about replacing me with another volunteer from the next class that comes in. She then came the next day here to Kayes to visit me. She told me that:

The Health Committee that I facilitated still existsThe men and women that I worked with are still on the committeeThey meet the first Saturday of every month, and collect duesThey have registered their committe as an official "association" with Malian authoritiesThey credited me with "opening their eyes" and giving them ideas about how to work togetherSome of them have received further training from the NGO Kenya Ciwara about family planningThe doctor of the CSCOM partners with them for community health projectsI had to hold back tears while she told me all of this. I am so insanely proud of them, and I still feel terrible about leaving. I am pretty sure that I would have quit Peace Corps before 2010 if I had stayed in the village, though. The isolation was beginning to be unbearable. I am so glad that the people in my village believed me when I always told them that it is their Health Committee- that I was just there to guide them and give ideas and examples. I know now that I need to go back and encourage them and see what they have done and what they need help with. I hope that another volunteer is placed in that village, and that he/she has a team of volunteers in nearby towns/villages so that they can support each other while they work with the great, motivated people in that area.

Today I find myself happy and optimistic about the work that Peace Corps volunteers all over the world do. I'm encouraged to continue trying, and to make the effort it takes to establish and strengthen relationships with Malians here. It takes a lot of work, but I have a renewed sense that it is worth it.

Hello, everyone! While I was living in a village, I wrote and received quite a few letters. Now that I have internet, I've gotten pretty lazy about sending postcards and/or letters... sorry! I'm working on getting some more out soon.

While I've been here, I've been lucky enough to get lots of care packages! I've gotten everything from lovely Dove deoderant from my cousin Caryn, an adorned umbrella for rainy season from Grandmother Mouton,

scented candles from our neighbors Kathy and Jim LaDuke, a good book from Luke and Ashley Sprague, a really cute picture of my cousins pointing to Africa on a map from Aunt April and Uncle Dixon, and numerous things from my parents, my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Jordan, and my Uncle Neil.

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!

The granola bars, powdered drink mixes and handwritten notes always make me immeasurably happy. It's not so much that I always need the things I get, but having the option to make my water taste a little better is great for my mental health :)

If of any of you reading this are wondering what to send a PCV, some of the most useful things I've been sent are:

Batteries

A webcam (when I moved to the regional capital- Skype is amazing!!!)

A jump rope (convenient way to work out)

A bell for my bike (to help navigate busy streets and warn people not to walk out in front of me)

Measuring cups (so I don't have to estimate for recipes anymore)

I also have items that I brought here myself that I don't think I could live without as a Peace Corps volunteer:

A good headlamp

A sturdy, lightweight water bottle (Nalgene or Sigg)

Portable REI mosquito net tent

Therma-Rest sleeping pad

A good Gerber knife

An Osprey Aura 35 backpack

A small travel pillow

Ironically, this gear makes it easier to live simply...

I only have about 7 more months here, and I really can't think of anything else I need, but feel free to send me mail at:

Alyssa Mouton

Corps de la Paix

B.P 440

Kayes

Mali, West Africa

I am going on vacation to Senegal and The Gambia from Feb. 11-19th, so I'm looking forward to that! There are over 90 volunteers from Mali alone going to WAIST (West African International Softball Tournament) in Dakar. Every year, ex-pats and tons of Peace Corps volunteers from West Africa come and play softball, see Dakar, and travel around the surrounding countries. I was going to hike in the national forests of Guinea after WAIST this year, but a few months ago Peace Corps pulled all of its Guinea volunteers out because of some serious violence following a protest in the capital. I wish more places in Africa were safe to travel...

Right now I have four other Peace Corps volunteers staying with me. Mike and Marisa transferred into Peace Corps Mali from Guinea after the civil unrest that happened there in October. They are in the process of finding a house in Kayes. Jim, Billy, and Jeremy are here because they have been trying unsuccessfully to find public transport to their sites.

Last night Tiken Jah Fakoly came to Kayes to give a concert. He's a really well-known reggae artist originally from Cote d'Ivoire who has been living in exile in Mali because of the political content of his songs. Here's a pretty good article about him from the Freemuse.com (Freedom of Musical Expression). An excerpt:

"‘Quitte le Pouvoir’ (Leave the Power) – co-recorded with his close friend, the Senegalese rapper Didier Awadi – is one of Tiken Jah Fakoly’s most known songs. It has almost become the African Anthem against political corruption. In his latest release, ‘The African’, Tiken Jah also tackles pan-African taboo subjects such as female genital mutilation and corrupt marabouts."

We took a taxi to the stadium, and I was really surprised by how large and clean it was. It is set up kind of like a college track stadium, with a dirt track and a soccer field in the middle. I had no idea something as nice as that even existed in Kayes, because I had no reason to go inside. Kayes continues to surprise me, and I'm really warming up to my little African city lately. Mike confidently skipped a really long line of Malian ticket-holders and guided us right to the entrance gates. I bought some really cool Tiken Jah fabric in traditional rasta colors.

We took our seats on concrete steps. There were some local rap and reggae opening acts. The guy who was in charge of introducing Tiken Jah and getting the crowd warmed up kept talking about "the revolution". It was all in French, so I didn't catch all of it, but he mentioned Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. Apprently he was talking about some sort of cultural revolution and justice and unity and all that other stuff you have to repeat on a regular basis to be "rasta". He made the crowd go nuts just by interjecting, "Rastafari!!!"

Tiken Jah made his entrance onto the stage after a ride around the staduim field in a white hummer. He had long dreads (of course), and was wearing traditionally-dyed mud cloth called "bogolan". I really enjoyed the music. It's catchy, with great guitar and lots of horns, but still has that reggae laissez-faire chill to it. He is a good singer, but his band is what really makes the music worthwhile.

We decided to leave at 12:30 to beat the rush. By that time, there were about 5,000 people. We walked around the staduim to the side entrance where we had come in. I was in the front, and when we approached the metal gate, I got a really weird vibe from the people around me. I thought for a second, and then I heard something. I was still about 20 feet from the metal gate, which was locked, when I realized that someone outside was throwing fist-sized rocks at the gate from the outside. I stopped everyone behind me and told them what was going on. We stood with a group of about 20 Malians who were also trying to exit and tried to figure out what to do.

It seems that the concert authorities locked the doors at a certain time, and those who couldn't get in after that were not happy about it. Or people just decided it was as good a time as any to create a little chaos. Who knows? There were lots of military and police officers in the stadium, but no one seemed at all interested in, or capable of, solving this particular problem. We went up to the top of the stadium to see what was going on outside the gates, and there was a band of Malian men and boys who would intermittently swoop in from under a grove of trees towards the gates and throw rocks. Then we realized that the rocks were coming up over the top of the stadium wall, too, and landing in the seating area. I'm talking about baseball-sized, jagged stones, here. I got our group to go to the top and sit down with our backs to the wall of the stadium, so that the trajectory of the rocks couldn't reach us. Some people picked up the rocks that came over the wall and threw them back, further encouraging the stoning.

We decided to wait it out.

We sat on the side of the stadium and continued to watch Tiken Jah perform and talk about his revolution of justice and truth while we heard the rocks ping against the concrete wall behind us.

About a half-hour later, twelve people ventured outside the gates and we watched from the top of the stadium as they were pelted with rocks.

The concert finally ended at 1am, and we waited for the crowd to exit before we made a move. The rock-throwing seemed to be over. We got outside and found a taxi for a reasonable price and came back to my house. Everything turned out ok for our group, but this is a great example of why I've avoided concerts, soccer games, and pretty much everything else that means big crowds here in Mali. Things can quickly get out of hand, and the local authorities are not particularly good at protecting civilians. In spite of that whole fiasco, I enjoyed the concert, and Tiken Jah is an interesting contemporary African figure. I respect the messages in his music, and I hope that Africa does indeed give up the rock-throwing and start listening to the voices calling out for peace and justice.

Here is one of his most well-known songs, "Ouvrez Les Frontières," which literally means, "Open the Borders."

Approximate lyrics at sweetlyrics.com translated from French by Google and tweaked a bit by me:

Open borders, open borders

Vous venez chaque année You come every year

L'été comme l'hiver The summer and winter

Et nous on vous reçoit And we receive you

Toujours les bras ouverts Always open arms

Vous êtes ici chez vous You are at home here

Après tout peu importe After all no matter

On veut partir alors ouvrez nous la porte We want to leave so lets open the door

CHORUS

Ouvrez les frontières, ouvrez les frontières ( x 2 ) Open borders, open borders (x 2)

Du Détroit de Gibraltar Strait of Gibraltar

Nous sommes des milliers We are thousands

A vouloir comme vous Any way you want

venir sans rendez-vous come without an appointment

Nous voulons voyager We want to travel

Et aussi travailler And also work

Mais nous on vous a pas refusé le visa But we would have had you not refused the visa

CHORUS

Nous aussi on veut connaître la chance d'étudier We also know we want the chance to study

La chance de voir nos rêves se réaliser The chance to see our dreams come true

Avoir un beau métier Have a Better Job

Pouvoir voyager To travel

Connaître ce que vous appelez « liberté » Knowing what you call "freedom"

On veut que nos familles ne manquent plus de rien We want our families to not be lacking anything

On veut avoir cette vie où l'on mange à sa faim We want to have this life where they eat their fill

On veut quitter cette misère quotidienne pour de bon You want to leave the daily misery for good

CHORUS

Y a plus une goutte d'eau There's a drop of water

Pour remplir notre seau To complete our network

Ni même une goutte de pluie Not even a drop of rain

Tout au fond du puis At the bottom of the well

Quand le ventre est vide When the stomach is empty

Sur le chemin de l'école On the way to school

Un beau jour il décide One day he decides

De prendre son envol, nan nan nan nan ... To take off, nan nan nan nan ...

CHORUS

Ouvrez la porte Open the door

Ici on étouffe Here it stifles

On est plein à vouloir du rêve occidental It is full of the Western dream

Ouvrez la porte Open the door

Ici la jeunesse s'essouffle Here the youth run out of steam

Ne vois tu pas que pour nous c'est vital Do not you see that it is vital for us

CHORUS

Vous avez pris nos plages You took our beaches

Et leur sable doré And golden sand

Mis l'animal en cage Put the animal in a cage

Abattu nos forêts Shot down our forest

Qu'est ce qu'il nous reste What do we have left

Quand on a les mains vides When your hands are empty

On se prépare au voyage We prepare to travel

Et on se jette dans le vide And it flows into the void

I had a great Christmas and New Years this year! I actually FORGOT Christmas last year, so it was a huge improvement to have people around to celebrate with.

First, there were 12 French, college-aged nursing students who were here for a month and left on Christmas day. I showed them all around Kayes, and I was really sad to see them go. After my first trip to France at age 16, I never thought I would want to go back. These French people were warm and hospitable and patient and otherwise amazing. They made me want to go back and see France, not just the castles and Paris. Also, apparently my French is better than I thought, and I just can't decipher the Malian accent sometimes. Jim, another Peace Corps Volunteer who lives 250 km southwest of me, came into Kayes for Christmas, too. The awesome French people invited us over for a Christmas Eve meal. Crepes with Nutella for dessert!

I also gave them their first taste of peanut butter- French people don't eat it, really. The Malian peanut butter made only of manually-processed peanuts is really strong, and they absolutely hated it. I also had a jar of Skippy I'd brought here in October from the States, and I broke that out for them to try it. They didn't hate it as much, but they still didn't like it. It was worth it to introduce them to a staple of the American diet :)

Jim and I made eggnog on Christmas. Here in Mali we used fresh eggs, 5 spice, milk powder, water, and a little rum. I blended it up and dropped an ice cube in it and sprinkled some crushed candy cane (from last year) on top. It was tasty! We took pictures with the dusty, foam, snowman Christmas diarama that someone left at my house.

Jim doesn't really have a lazy eye, I'm just a bad photographer.

On New Year's Eve, I went to the a party at Ed's house in Bamako. He works at the US Embassy, and most of the people who were there also worked at the Embassy or were in the military. Gloria, another PCV, and I went with 7 Army and/or Marine guys who invited us. Peace Corps volunteers have kind of a reputation in the ex-pat community here for being mooches- showing up not entirely invited, under-dressed, and ready to consume. It is not an entirely unfounded stereotype :) We volunteers make only a tiny fraction of the salary of the NGO or government workers here. So oftentimes if we hear about nice holiday parties, the word gets through the grapevine and we shamelessly show up and eat food. Ed, the host of the New Year's party even joked that he expected five times as many volunteers to show up, and thus had over-ordered on the hors d'oeuvres.

At about 11, we headed over to Bachir and JP's house. They are Lebanese ex-pats who have lived in Bamako for a long time. Their families own restaurants, hotels, etc. They invited lots of Peace Corps volunteers, and about 50 people showed up. They lit off all sorts of slightly scary fireworks in their front yard at midnight. It was definitely worth the eight hour bus ride to Bamako!

Happy New Year's everyone!!!

I am working with a CSCOM (Centre de Sante Communitaire), which is a community health center that was originally financially supported by the Malian goverment. After a certain period of time, these health centers have to be financially independent and funded by the community. It is under the supervision and directives of the Malian National Ministry of Health, and is supposed to follow those directives. Let me set the stage of the clinic here a little bit.

The staff:

Oumar Magassa- chief doctor

Great, smart, completely over-worked guy.

Adame Maiga- "sage femme" (pre-natal consultations, supervisor of all the matrons/vaccinators)

Superiority complex, always dressed like she's going to a special event, not afraid to let me know if she's not pleased with me for any reason.

Zeinabou Fall- vaccinator

Nice woman, speaks 4 languages, was assigned to help the last volunteer who worked at the CSCOM, been to Peace Corps trainings, also very busy.

Jenieba Diarra- matron (delivers babies, helps with pre-natal consultations)

Syrah Sissocko- baby-weigher (in charge of daily infant survival services)

Passive-aggressive, uninterested, not afraid to be disrespectful to me.for asking her to do her job.

3 other vaccinators and 3 other baby-weighers, all women

Let's take a look at the baby-weighing paraphenalia:

The baby-weighers sit at this table and put each child in a set of shorts/harness thingy and suspend it from a scale. Then, they lay it on a board marked in centimeter increments and record the height. They record the baby's name, parents' names, birthdate, weight and height in the white book.

Normally at this point, they hand the mother back her record card without saying a word to her and send her on her way. The mother has not learned anything- not even how much her child weighs! The workers don't have any idea if the child is growing normally. More importantly, nothing has been done to help a moderately or severely malnourished child, or to keep a healthy child to continue to be healthy.

I have been using every argument I can think of to get the 4 women who do these baby-weighings to use the pink "growth chart" you see above. On one side, there is a chart for age vs. weight. On the other side is age vs. height. If you do a simple comparison, it is easy to see whether any given child under the age of 5 is doing ok (GREEN), moderately malnourished (YELLOW), or severely malnourished (RED). But these women do not want to take this extra step, which is something they should be doing as part of their jobs anyway. In a variety of ways they have insisted that I do it myself if I want it done. I eventually appealed to their boss, Mrs. Maiga, and she agreed with me. The baby-weighers gudgingly used the growth chart for about three days. Then it was back to business as usual, with them rolling their eyes at me when I asked which zone the a child was in.

For those three days that they actually used the chart, the baby-weighers told me which zone the child was in, and I stepped away with the mother to talk to her and give her advice. I was absolutely elated! Part of the reason I'm valuable as a Peace Corps volunteer is that I speak Bambara, the local language. Many other humanitarian and/or health workers cannot directly communicate with the population they wish to help. But I can (most of the time). So I have done 30 face-to-face "consultations" with mothers of infants. I talk about:

What the children are eating (the correct answer for under 6 months of age is ONLY BREAST MILK)

Tell them to begin giving their children other foods at 6 months (often mothers exclusively breastfeed til one year or more, and the childrens' caloric requirements are not met)

Explain that if the child doesn't gain weight or gets skinny that it is a type of sickness in itself and they should go to the doctor.

Tell the mothers that while they're breastfeeding, if they themselves don't eat well ( lots of protein, vegetables and fruits) that their children cannot get good nutrition or vitamins.

Talk about how to make better porridge for kids after 6 months with things that are locally available (millet, peanut powder, sugar, iodized salt and lemon juice)

But to do these consultations, I need the co-operation of the CSCOM staff. It comes down to the fact that if they don't do their jobs, then I can't do what I'm here to do. I am here for education and prevention, and I refuse to set the precedent of doing their jobs for them. I have had meetings with the doctor, sage femme, and I have had my supervisor in Peace Corps call both of them. Nothing has worked, and I am at the end of my patience with some of the people I have to work with.

Mondays I do educational health talks for the women who come to the CSCOM, and Thursdays I do demonstrations of how to make the nutritional porridge/weaning food. But to me, the one-on-one consultations with mothers of infants are such a great opportunity for education...

I knew that my two years here would be frustrating at times. In this situation, I am sorry for the CSCOM staff who actually do their job well and care about the community, because some of their colleages' attitudes are going to push away people who have the capacity to help.

Such is the life of a Peace Corps volunteer, who has no real authority to change anything, only to illustrate ideas and stick around for someone to say, "Hey- what you were talking about last month was interesting..."

Patience and perseverance, I say to myself.

Good new everyone! I now have a cat. He belonged to the volunteer who lived in my house before me (Emily). She gave him to our housekeeper when she left. I left for Sikasso for Thanksgiving, and came home to a new friend. Papi decided he wanted to come back and live at my house. Our houskeeper, Coumba, took him home twice, but eventually just told me that he should live here. Now I have a very vocal, cuddly orange and white cat named Papi.

He's so sweet he even left me a present on the living room floor today- a lizard head!

Only one day too late for Christmas...

Not long after I attended my first baptism in Kayes, I was handed a fairly modern, color-printed wedding invitation tied with a baby-blue ribbon. Mr. Issa Kanoute is the director of the middle school I am working with, and is also the 4th mayor adjoint. I have no idea what that really means as far as his job responsibilities, but in general it means he is a VIP here in Kayes. He's also happens to be a really nice guy, and I didn't realize how connected he was until I showed up, per his invitation, to his TWO daughters' simultaneous weddings at the mayor's office.

I wore the best dress I brought from America, and I was definitely still under-dressed! I was not spangled in fake-gold jewelry, two tones of eyeshadow, high heels, and I was definitely not wearing GLITTER on my face or on my hair! The rest of the women were decked out in all of the above, which is definitely not something you see every day. It was definitely the upper class of Kayes in attendance.

There were the usual griots (traditional folk singer/storytellers) who came out to yell at the top of their lungs and collect money for giving blessings. The woman in the burgundy/red below was the main griot, and is holding a 1,000 CFA bill that someone just handed her.

One of the brides was marrying a military man, so in addition to the political figures in attendance, there was a large military/police attendance.

I went to the wedding with the staff of the middle school that I'm in the process of working with. I still don't know them very well, but they have been very open and inclusive. Going to this wedding hopefully showed them that I am part of this community, and interested in life outside a Peace Corps partnership with the school. There were so many Malians taking pictures and sticking video cameras in to the bride's, groom's and guests' faces that I didn't feel like too much of an outsider taking these pictures myself.

The most interesting part of the wedding was the very end. When the papers were signed, and the two couples were descending from the 2nd story of the mayor's office where the ceremony took place, I got the feeling of expectant energy from the crowd. One of the teachers I work with leaned over and said to me, "This is part of the military/police job description- to show up at marriages and force the bride to go to her family's house."

Culturally, when a woman gets married, she is leaving her parents' house and going to live with her husband's family. For some, this means she may rarely or never see her family again. It also means that she will be essentially sequestered in a room with her husband for a week after the marriage and expected to "perform" (and perhaps no one has ever explained reproductive facts to her, or even what causes pregnancy). She is now at the will and whimsy of her mother-in law, and has to figure out the politics of a new, polygamous extended family. Personally, I would be terrified and crying for my mother.

Here in Kayes, Issa Kanoute's daughters are educated and will live close to their father's family. So this uproar at the end of their wedding is a show of sorts, but an interesting cultural practice nonetheless. Here are a couple video clips I took of the military "escorting" one of the brides to a waiting car:

I really enjoyed the wedding, but I'm still definitely not convinced that I need to get married in Mali to a Malian man, as everyone I met at the wedding counseled me. You can see all of the pictures from the wedding, as well as some others here on facebook, even if you are not a member of facebook.

Let me know if you have any questions about anything!

Those of you who know me well know that I was not graced at birth with a strong sense of direction. This has been a source of both comedy and anxiety in my life. Some of you have seen me get lost in campus buildings, shopping plazas and even Lansing-area Michigan, where I lived for 11 years. There is a good chance that I have even added hours onto your road-trip at some point. I have to pay much more attention than most people to even be able to re-trace a simple route. As a result, most of the time I just let others drive or lead me without paying much attention. Overall, it's better that way. I don't actively get others lost, and it's not as stressful for me. But now that I'm all grown up and out in the world on my own, I don't have anyone to show me the route. I have to find my own way.

During my 4 month internship in Bangkok, Thailand, I got a map. For the most part that colorful map of huge open-air markets, parks, shopping centers and universities got me back and forth from my Asia Partnership for Human Development office downtown and the Asian Institute of Technology where I was staying. I just made sure I knew enough Thai to find by way to the Sky Train that runs through central Bangkok, which I knew my way home from. I made it by myself around Bangkok- 9 million people!

When I moved to Denver in September of 2007, my Aunt Mary saved my life by giving me a street-level grid map of "Denver and Surrounding Areas" with an index of addresses by street name in the back. Before I went ANYWHERE, I sat down and found the start and end locations on the maps and wrote myself a set of directions. After 4 months of doing this, I found that I didn't have to do it very often anymore. By the time I left Denver, I am happy to say that I could drive around Denver without feeling anxious about getting lost. Denver has about 550, 000 people.

Even after all of that, I don't believe that there is a place on earth more challenging to navigate than the huge, blazingly hot country of Mali. Bamako has about one million people, and my regional capital of Kayes has only about 20,000, by the best estimates I can find. So what makes this comparatively small city such a challenge?

No maps. Even those in the "Lonely Planet" or other travel guides only show a quarter of Kayes. I happen to be in that quarter, so I have figured out how to get around here. But the other 3/4 of Kayes is a mystery as far as maps go.

No street names, useless addresses.There are about six paved roads for all of Kayes' 20,000 inhabitants. Maybe they were given names during the colonial era, but I have never seen a street sign in all my hours of bike riding. So when you need to go somewhere there are names for the quarters of Kayes... but once you get there, there are no other objective markers to distinguish one set of houses (along that dirt road with that little shop on the corner???) from another. There are just neighborhoods upon un-mapped, convoluted neighborhoods of offices and houses tucked away for you to find.

Some of the neighborhoods with better urban planning do have street numbers stenciled on the side of buildings in the dirt alleys. Unfortunately for me, no one uses them, and consequently the whole system is ignored in favor of landmarks. So if you want to go to Street 639 in "Big Kayes" the taxi driver will continue to look confused and wait til you give him the route by landmarks.

Malian directionsMalians often tell foreigners what they think they want to hear, which is obviously not always in line with the truth. So if I'm on my way somewhere and I ask, "Is it far?" they oftentimes say, "Oh, no. Not far at all." To be fair, what is close on a moto is sometimes very very far on the only transportation I have- a bike. But often, the directions that I get are so subjective and based on landmarks that I may never have even heard of before that they are useless to me. Their perception of their community on a whole will always be much different than mine as an outsider. Malians will notice and give importance to things I won't (mosques, the mayor's house) and vice versa (the only place you can get real butter to make cookies!).

Also, the directions are obviously not in English. Everytime I have to decode directions in French or Bambara to get somewhere, I have a mini panic attack.

Honestly, this is something that I anticipated when I joined the Peace Corps. Google maps just does not work on a street level in third-world Africa. Not knowing exactly where I'm going or how to get there is a part of life. What I do along the way and with where I end up is the important part. I'll leave you with some photos of what I've found during my wandering around Kayes.

Bridge over the Senegal River between Kayes Ba and Kayes N'Di (Big and Little Kayes)

People are fishing, hauling dirt to prevent erosion on the banks, washing dishes and clothes and I was relaxing and listening to the water. This is a 10 minute bike ride from my house.

In Kayes, there are two American couples who do missionary work. Jim and Jennifer have been here 20 years and have 4 kids who go to school and/or teach in Dakar. Mark and Marcie haven't been here as long and have two young boys (Dylan, 6 and Caleb, 2). Both families have been amazing to me- inviting me to meet their Malian friends, to go to cultural events, to go to church and over to their homes for meals. Their presence in Kayes has given me a sense of security and peace that I've been lacking this last year. Their houses are refuges for me, and they continually treat me and their Malian friends with compassion and generosity. I've also gotten to dog-sit Chester, Jim and Jennifer's dachsund "weiner dog" while they are visiting their kids in Dakar this week. He's a hilarious little guy who wants to be laying either on (or snuggled up next to) you every moment of the day. Also, Malians have never seen any animal shaped quite like him, so when I'm out walking him I get to hear them debate,

"No, that can't be a dog, it has to be a rat. No, stupid, it's a cat..."

This last Sunday, Mark and Marcie invited me to a baptism at a Christian church here in Kayes. Approximately 90% of Malians are Muslim. Christianity and "traditional beliefs" make up the rest of the 10%. To my knowledge, there were no Christians in my village or anywhere near me out in the bush, except a tiny church in my market town, Diema. It's a change of pace to hear people talking about Jesus, not just "Allah". Mark and Marcie came to pick me up with an already packed car: Mark driving, me with Dylan on my lap in the passenger seat, Marcie with Caleb on her lap in the back seat, Salimae with Lavier and her baby girl next to her, another neighbor also in the back seat, and then another neighbor in the very back of the SUV-type vehicle. We arrived at the Eglise Protestante Evangelique de Kayes (Protestant Evangelist Church of Kayes) and I could already hear the balafon in full swing (google image below).

The men sat on one side of the room on wooden benches, the women on the other and the barely-contained group of rowdy kids in another section. With half the population of Mali under the age of 15, at any given event there are about as many children running wild as adults in attendance. They just come out of the woodwork when anything out of the ordinary happens or there is music. If you think that African American churches in the U.S. know how to get down, then you've never seen a Malian Christian church with a balafon and a couple djembe drums! The service was in Bambara and translated into French. I understand a good chunk of both, but I still have to really concentrate to follow what is being said. They began with the baptism of a little girl. Her family dedicated her to God and announced her name, and the pastor emphasized that God loves each and every child. After that, the pastors announced they would begin the church service. At that point, approximately 10 men and 5 women out of 50 people in attendance unashamedly got up and walked out. They clearly did NOT come for church- only for the baptism. I could tell they were relieved to be able to leave the church and proceed to the family's house.

More traditional "baptisms"/baby-naming ceremonies are done seven days after the child's birth at the family home. The invited men come to in the morning and greet, eat some food and give their monetary gifts. In the afternoon, the women, who are all dolled up for the event, gather and give more practical gifts like soap, fabric, clothing, etc. Then there is a more substantial meal for the invited guests. Christian baptisms only happen in the more urban areas of Mali.

It is more difficult for me to make Malian friends here in Kayes, which is mostly because I am incredibly independent here. For the most part, I don't need Malians to tell me how to get simple things done or to help me live my everyday life. In my village, I often felt like a helpless child. I didn't speak the language, didn't know where anything was, how to not offend people in this new culture, who to work with to form a health committee... My level of dependence created opportunities for me to make friends. Here, I have a big, walled-in courtyard with a guard that sits out front. While its amazing to be able to do yoga in shorts (so scandalous!) and have a level of privacy I never had in my village, I am definitely not as integrated into the community. I have intentionally gone out and visited potential work partners by myself, which I will talk about more later, but I appreciate being included by my American neighbors in cultural events that I would otherwise never hear about. I know I still have a lot to learn about Kayes, the Bambara language and Malian culture.

Hello everyone! I am happy to say that I am safe and sound in a regional capital of Mali called Kayes (pronounced "kie" like "tie"). I have been in Mali since July 10, 2008, which makes it about 16 months total now. Sometimes the days seems to drag on, because of the slow pace of life in Mali. Looking back now, those 16 months seem to have flown by.

As some of you know, until this October I was living in a tiny rural village in the region of Kayes called Debo-Massassi. It is near Diema, Mali if you'd like to google map it. Debo-Massassi was very much the stereo-typical experience that people expect from Peace Corps Africa: isolated, poor, no electricity, no running water, no internet, mud house with a hole in the ground for a toilet, etc. I have described it to my parents as a cross between "Survivor" and "Fear Factor"! It was a 4 hour round trip to my closest market with any fresh fruits or vegetables, and much further than that to the nearest volunteer. But it was my delight to live with Sekikolo Coulibaly, the chief of my village. After the house the community built me fell down, he scrambled to improve a room in his concession so that I could stay there while they re-built my house. This arrangement turned out to be less temporary than I expected (8 months!), but it gave me a chance to get to know the community with the backing and blessing of the most influential man in it. (Pic below).

As a whole, the people of Debo-Massassi are amazing. They never failed to display generous amounts of traditional Malian hospitality (which is also my favorite aspect of Malian culture). I worked with a doctor, midwife, pharmacist and vaccinator at the government-sponsored health clinic called a CSCOM (Centre de Sante Communitaire).

(The consultation room and doctor Abdulaye Sylla on the left, and the pharmacy of the CSCOM above)

I have almost no health background in my college education, but my 15 years of American education has ensured me a level of understanding about biology, disease, nutrition and reproductive health that is beyond the reach of the vast majority of Malians. In addition, Peace Corps gives us sector-specific technical training and provides us with a plethora of reference material and resources. In effect, it is my job to facilitate the communication of basic, life-saving health information to a widely illiterate population. In Debo-Massassi, I helped create a Health Committee of 8 men and 10 women who were interested in being trained in health topics and doing education projects in their community. The staff of the CSCOM and I served as technical advisors and teachers for the Health Committee. We did education projects on proper hand-washing techniques, womens' health during pregnancy and also "ameliorated porridge"- a nutritional weaning food made with locally available ingredients.

From July til mid September I was in Bamako, away from my village. I was one of two technical trainers for the Health Education sector and worked with Peace Corps staff to train the new class of volunteers who will be here 2009-2011.

(Peace Corps volunteer trainers 2009 at the US Embassy)

During that time, I began to think about moving out of my village. Peace Corps staff will tell you that at the year mark (half-way) is a low point for the morale of many volunteers. It's easy to think, "I'm only halfway done? Can I really make it another year?" Honestly, I was not sure I could handle it another year. Some volunteers are absolutely fine with being extremely isolated. I was not. I was supposed to have a site-mate coming 20 km from me to Diema, but sadly she developed serious medical problems and had to go home before training was finished. In addition, the doctor and midwife that had helped me to work with the Health Committee moved out of my village for better jobs. Confronted with the prospect of another year in Debo-Massassi- just as isolated and now without two important work partners- I approached my Associate Peace Corps Director, Claudine Adou-Lath. She was very understanding and offered me the opportunity to transfer to the regional capital, Kayes.

So here I am. I've been in Kayes since Oct. 9 and am settling in nicely. I honestly feel like a different person. I have a clean kitchen with running water, toilets, electricity, a library and a great internet connection. I'm in the process of surveying Kayes and taking photos, which I will post soon along with information about my work and everyday life here. I hope everyone reading this is doing well, and I welcome your comments and questions.