Just like everyone else back in America, I spent June 18th, 2010 glued to the television set.

The beginning was atrocious. Team America went down 1-0. Then down 2-0?! What the heck happened?! We had just tied England six days earlier, and now we were getting dominated by Slovenia of all countries. At that particular moment I know I was not the only American thinking, "Typical Team USA soccer. Play great against the powerhouses, poorly against the teams we should clearly beat."

Then we all know what happened next. We got one back. "Bout freakin' time", I said. Then we got that second one back. "OK NOW!" We got a third one to go ahead! "OHHHHHH BABY!!!!!"

.....wait......

No third goal?.... They called it back?.... He was clearly onside.... Who is this ref?.... He's a Malian?!.... HIS NAME IS COULIBALY?!?!.....

....COULIBALY?!?!?!?!?....

You see here in Mali, they have this thing called the joking cousin. Let me explain.

Once upon a time (according to Malian griots)......

....Two Malian friends went out into the bush to collect wood. One of the two buddies got scared by an animal he saw. Back in the village, the one who got scared tried to make everyone believe it was he who had been brave. And soon after, the two friends used this experience to give each other a hard time, and eventually it turned into an ongoing joke. The two friends became joking cousins...

Joking cousins, or Senekuya, is a medium that helps ease the relationship between two people at work, in the neighborhood, or just in the community in general. It's a game and sort of a social medicine aimed to prevent potential conflict.

You joke with people based on your last name. So because out here I'm a Dembélé, I joke with people whose last name is Diarra and Berthé. So any time I meet a Diarra or a Berthé I say, "You're nothing but a bean-eating donkey!" And then they'll tell me that I'm actually the one who eats beans. I'm the one who is a donkey. It's a lot of fun and everyone laughs. The joke usually just sticks to the bean and donkey references; it always stays light-hearted.

So I joke with Diarra's, Maiga's joke with Toure's, Keita's joke with Doumbia's, and so on and so forth.

But there's one last name that gets joked with by everyone. One last name that is far and away the worst one to have in Mali. And that name is Coulibaly.

Back on June 18th when that third goal was taken away from us, it was heartbreaking. We know we won that game. But for for a PCV in Mali, there was at least something to laugh about. OF COURSE THIS REF IS A COULIBALY, THEY'RE THE WORST!! Thankfully, Mr. Coulibaly's reffing blunder didn't cost anything in the end; the Yanks finished 1st in the group before Ghana gave us some of that Humble Pie.

... As an American, I sometimes wish this kind of joking system was more prevalent in our daily lives. It could go a little something like this:

- You're from New Jersey? You must love hair gel and Jaegar Bombs.- Yea but you're from South Carolina so you're married to your sister.- Hey!!! Ya got me!!!!-LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!!!!

A year ago as of tomorrow (by the way have a great birthday Richard), I got on here and talked about Laura from Philly. She was the one who went up with me to my site when I saw Kléla for the first time. I remember my Bambara was still atrocious, still couldn't eat much Malian food- still just really raw at that point. And for that initial stretch, I felt like Laura kept me sane. It was tough going from my homestay in Sanankoroba, where I was with 6 other Americans, to being tossed into the bush on my own. Her being there those first two days made all the difference.

I didn't get to know Laura for too long, her service ended before my group swore-in. But I never forgot about how helpful she was to me. I should probably send her a pie sometime.

Well- the new group of trainees got here in early July, just like my group. They still have a couple weeks left of training, but they seem to be doing great from what I've seen. I got the chance to help out with one of the Education training sessions- the World Map Project, of course (I swear I would've been All-State in cartography back in high school if there were such a title). Those guys did awesome with their map, it was a million times better than the one my group did in Sanankoroba together.

And around the beginning of this month, Peace Corps was organizing the new group's site visit, where they stay for a week and see where they're gonna be living. Just like with us. And when it came time to figure out which PCV's would accompany which PCT's as a site buddy, I got a call, and just started smiling. I'd be going to Kafouziela. Laura's old site.

So about a week and a half ago, I biked out there and hung out with Matt, a big bearded wat/san volunteer- good dude. I took him around and did all the formal stuff: greeted the locals, helped translate a little for him and stuff like that. But I also felt like I got to know more about what Laura had done in her two years and tell her about how her village has been doing since she's been gone. They really miss her- they all love that girl and everyone wanted to talk to me about how she's been doing. Laura's host dad was a guy named Zanga Kone and now he's also Matt's host dad. So Matt decided to change his Malian last name to Kone. Zanga loved hearin' that!

Zanga can be a real ball-buster though. Me and Matt ate all our meals with him and he kept givin' us flack about how fluent Laura was in French, Bambara, AND Senoufo (Laura told me later that Zanga was full of it and that she can't really speak Senoufo all that well). He fed us siri (a sugary kinda rice pooridge) and tôh (millet nastiness) and it was like deja vu all over again. I was able to eat it, just because I'm used to Malian food at this point, but Matt couldn't down a whole lot. It was the exact same as when Laura was with me in Kléla. She would eat, but I couldn't. It's funny how these things go in circles. Of course, Zanga was hassling Matt about how much Laura loved tôh and how she ate it all the time. All in good humor.

So I stayed at Matt's house, Laura's old house, for a couple of nights. I just wanted to try and help out as much as Laura helped me. I don't feel like Matt needed it as much as I did though; I was really impressed with how far he's come along already. He's got himself somewhat of a legacy to live up to, but he's totally got this thing on lock! And so the Peace Corps cycle continues...

Gender equality is a tough sell here in Mali. This is a culture where from sun up until sundown, women are constantly breaking their backs while the men sit around and drink tea (In all fairness, dudes work out in the fields a lot, but still). And that's just the way it's always been out here. Every time I've mentioned to my village about wanting to do a project based on gender development, I've kinda been met with that "Yeah, maybe" attitude from my community. I don't know if it's something they don't want, they're not ready for...I don't know what it is to tell you the truth. But in my opinion it's the single most important issue in a country like this.

So when I was called in a couple weeks ago to help out with a Take Your Daughter to Work Day project in Sikasso, I was on it- I knew I had to get in on that. The premise was pretty awesome: We would bring in girls from our different villages and they would get to go into the big town and see the Big City Life (me try fi get by) and see working professionals ,women obviously, doing their thing in the field. They saw doctors, a secretary training school, teachers in Sikasso and I think they got a pretty good idea that there's a lot more out their than just village life. They also got to do fun stuff- they went swimming at a pool for the first time in their lives. I'm not sure that was a bright idea on our part; you really had to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn't go into the deep end by themselves.

But the main reason why I was brought into the project was because they wanted me to do like a P.E. activity with the girls that also explained the importance of gender equality. In Klela I'm always playing games with the kids; things like handwashing relay races to teach kids the importance of having clean hands. Youth Development is what I focus on the most out here. I'm sorta like a YMCA-afterschool-baseball-coach-kinda-guy.

Back in December, an NGO called Right to Play came in and taught all about these youth development games. They gave us a manual with a ton of games in there, and that book is my main reference when I'm trying to figure out a good activity. But like I said, gender equality is tough, and there's not many games in this book that have this idea as the main learning objective. So I came up with something on my own.

I decided to do a tug of war game. I got the girls together and I told them that all countries are different. Malians like tea, Americans like coffee, and Chinese people like to eat cats. I said because every country is different, they all have different problems. And a major problem in Mali is gender equality.

So I brought a girl up to play tug of war with me. One on one. I said that one educated girl is awesome and all that (And then I won the tug of war game easily) but it's not enough to really change the mindset of a country. I said that as more and more women become educated and become working professionals (I kept adding more girls to go against me in the tug of war game. When their side had 3 people, I lost.) the country becomes stronger and the opinions change. Because if there's one thing I learned in college, it's that super-developed countries all have super-educated women. Or vice-versa. It's like there's causation AND correlation bro!.... So don't tase me!

Back in January I biked from Sikasso to my friend Adele's site in Kaboila. The ride is only about 15k so it doesn't wear you down too much, but it's enough to make you feel like you got a decent workout. It's a pretty nice little village on the main highway that runs from Sikasso to the Ivory Coast and I also like it because it actually shows up in the right spot when you try to Google-Earth it. For my village, I always gotta look for Loutana first and then go north on the dirt road until I see the next little town.

Anyway, Adele often works at her town's health clinic (which is basically four walls, a tin roof, and a sink I'm not even sure worked with a bar of soap next to it) and she had me help her paint some murals on the outer walls of the building. The two murals we worked on both stressed the importance for women to take extra care of themselves during pregnancy. One depicted a pregnant woman getting vaccinations and the other was showing a pregnant woman sleeping under a mosquito net. Needless to say, the women we painted in these murals were super smart and knew how to take care of themselves.

It took me a little while, but I found the right combination of black paint and blue paint and started working on the night sky in the mosquito net mural. But I didn't get to enjoy working on it for very long before things started to get a little weird.

The room on the other side of the wall I was painting was where the patients stay. And there was a woman in there who sounded like she was really struggling. So I painted. And this woman howled in pain. I just kinda kept painting. And she just kept sounding like she was in serious trouble. I thought to myself, "This has got to be the worst sound in the world." And I felt like the only thing I could do was say a little prayer for this poor woman.

I finally asked Adele if she knew what was going on. And Adele told me, " Yeah. The doctor says she has Malaria." I saw said doctor come in once or twice to check on the woman, but the problem was that she didn't speak Bambara. So whatever one person said could not have been understood by the other.

I tried to focus on the painting, but that's almost impossible to do when you're absolutely convinced that you're hearing the cries of a dying woman.

But then. Out of the freakin' blue. A little baby head popped out.

Surprised? Yeah... I was a little surprised by that. And relieved too. I saw the look on the doctor's face when he went back in that room and realized this woman was giving birth and not actually dying from Malaria. He wasn't alarmed or shocked or nothing. Looked like the only thought running through his head was, "Well... I guess I gotta go get the medical supplies from the other room now." Adele, being the awesome Health volunteer that she is, went in there to help with the whole process- recorded the time of birth and stuff like that.

It was around that point that I decided I should probably put the paint brush down and go sit somewhere until this whole deal sorted itself out.

I've looked back at that story and laughed hard about it; but I'm not so sure it's actually all that funny. Things turned out alright for this lady, but T.I.A. man. Healthcare, like so many other things here in Africa, just isn't the same service as it is in the States.

We got some good painting done that day. The murals turned out great. And I remember walking back to Adele's hut that evening thinking, "Well... hopefully that woman got her vaccinations and had been sleeping under a mosquito net."

Nga hali sisan ne t'a soro mun nin ne b'o nyini. (But I still haven't found what I'm looking for...)

So straight up- it looks like I'm a bum when it comes to keeping up with being an online blogger dude. But I'm a guilty-conscience online blogger dude so I'm gonna keep this short because I feel like you have to earn your right to ramble.

In this wonderful month known as April, I kinda wrapped up the first third of this Malian Adventure with a regional training in Sikasso followed by my first trip back home in 9 months.

And I'll tell you, it's just like the saying you've heard a billion times, well there just ain't no place like home. I got to see my best buddy growing up get married to his dream girl, got to have a nice home-cooked steak and salad dinner with the madre in my Sugar Creek home, and even got to see my Reds get their butts whooped by the Marlins in Miami (and at the same time paid homage to the site where Drew Brees worked his miracle).

And now I'm nestled back safely in the Sikasso region out here in Mali. And it's time to get back to the grindstone. Me and a couple of other volunteers are going to have a world map mural tour to each other's villages. So I gotta get my butt back to Klela and grid that thing out before the others show up.

So starting now, I'm smack dab in the middle of this thing. I'm certainly no Jedi yet, but neither was Luke at the end of that first movie. I just feel lucky that I got so many great people back home backing me up. Can't tell you what that means to me.

Farigan be n na, ni fura ye misi ndanan caman doron ye. (I've got a fever and the only cure is more cowbell.)

Happy New Year everybody, hope Santa hooked y'all up with some goodies.

The season kicked off for me right around the middle of November as us Sikasso kids were preparing the annual Thanksgiving dinner here in Sikasso. We had the feast at Diane's (a second year volunteer who loves her Michigan State Spartans) and we had a pretty good crowd show up. The preparations were a little different because we can't just go to the store and buy a Butterball. We had to get a local guy to fatten up some turkeys way ahead of time. So when we finally picked up the turkeys, we had to chase them around the yard to tie them up. But luckily for us, Diane knows how to catch a turkey. The rest of us had trouble trying to grab one of the five turkeys running around. But Diane looked fear in the face. Locked in like Ray Lewis trying to make a goal line stand, I saw Diane focus in on her turkey with uncanny determination. And when the little guy tried to get by her and give her the Matrix move, she went straight for the legs. Diane 1 Turkey 0. That turkey was turned upside down before it even knew what happened. It was awesome. So we cooked those bad boys and had us a great Thanksgiving. I feel like the people who came from all the other regions had a great time. Hopefully I've learned from Diane and will be able to snatch some turkeys next year.

I got back to site a few days later to celebrate the holiday of Tabaski with my host family and get ready for our IST (in-service training) in Bamako. Tabaski was the same day we ran a train on Clemson (34-17) and life was good. A few days later, I was on my way back to Sikasso and then Bamako.

For the first time since I've been here, I decided to ride the 45k from my site in Klela to Sikasso on my way back in. So I got up at 5:30 in the morning, was fed salad for breakfast for some reason, and left around 6:45. I was doing fine for awhile, but then the sun got hot. That last hour was miserable, I was miserable. But when you get there you always got something accomplished.

I was getting ready in Sikasso to take off when I found out some upsetting news. Diane, our beloved turkey snatcher, was on her way to being medically separated from Peace Corps; on her way back to America for good. A few of my friends have left since I got here, but this has been the worst one yet for me. Diane's the one who took care of us when we got here in September, the champion leader of the Sikasso region. I'm gonna miss that kid.

December 6th, we loaded up the SUV and headed back to Bamako to Tubaniso for IST. It was great seeing everyone again, especially my crew from Sanankoroba. And then we got some training in us!

The first week for us education kids was focused on running a literacy center. So we learned in Bambara how to explain pronunciation, how to explain drawing the letters of the alphabet- and when we got into math, we learned how to explain things like carrying the digit when you're doing addition. It was some really good technical training that'll help me out a lot. We also had sessions on all kinds of other things. One guy came in and showed us a whole bunch of snakes and told us about them- so good.

And one day during lunch, I saw our good buddy Diane come into the refectoire. She was leaving that night to take off and I was glad I got to see her before she left. I gave her a big ole hug, choked up a little- not gonna lie, and told her thanks for everything. You're the best Diane, be good girl!

The Christmas spirit was in the air and Tubaniso did a good job of making the atmosphere a festive one for us. There was even a white elephant party, just like back home. I didn't actually go to it but I got a gift for it- a bootleg DVD of nothing but Bruce Willis movies. I really hope whoever picked it understands French.

IST ended a couple of days before Christmas and on the 23rd me and about six other people loaded up and went out to the western part of the country in the Kayes region to a place called Manantali. Apparently a bunch of foreigners came to Manantali in the 80s and built a dam out there and set up a little community like the ones on a military base. When I got to the Peace Corps house out there, I felt like I was at Courtney's cabin up in Dillsboro, nice little house on the river- it was pretty sweet. And the town still has remnants of the community that built the dam on the lake. But when I walked around that town at night, it was a little a spooky, I felt like I was in Raccoon City or Silent Hill. I was ready to cap me some zombies.

So for Christmas I just hung out on the river listening to some blue grass; I'm South Carolina through and through. And I even got a stocking that had Barack Obama playing cards in it. But when I opened the box, it wasn't Barack Obama on the cards, it was Didier Drogba.

I got back to Bamako and Sikasso a few days later. It's been an eventful month, now it's time to get back to work.

Special shout out to my girl A. Knowles! You keep rockin' Burrito Fingers!!

N be N ka luneti don su fe. (I wear my sunglasses at night.)

The first month and a half of being a volunteer is in the books.

A couple days after being installed, the Malians had some celebrating to do. Ramadan ended, which is a big celebration, and my new host family enjoyed the moment by killing a goat- something I'm glad I don't see everyday. Anybody wanna see pictures?!?! No... I'm not that rediculous, there's no pictures. The next day was my 23rd birthday, there was more blood shed- they cooked a chicken for me and I enjoyed some warm Fanta; it was FANTAstic. The good times rolled into the following day, Malian Independence day- another year of freedom from the French. It felt like an Independence, it was hot, not a cloud in the sky and the whole town gathered. The musicians sang, the kids who take karate classes showed us their moves, and one teenage kid won a brand new bicycle after winning the town bike race- he was the king of the day.

These first couple of months have been relatively slow, however. My language isn't at the point where I can really grab the bull by the horns and start my own projects. But I have spent a good bit of time fulfilling Peace Corps' second goal, sharing American culture with Mali. I've taught these kids how to play Rock, Paper, Scissors, they absolutely love throwing the frisbee, they were blown away when they saw me put in my contact lenses, and in the spirit of the World Series, I'm sharing America's favorite pastime with my African community. I took the blade out of my family's axe (don't worry it goes right back in, I'm not sacrificing our firewood so I can play baseball!) and I'm teaching these kids how to pop it like A-Rod. They all take turns swinging at a rubber ball while I sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" like some raging buffoon.

One of my buddies gave me an ESPN magazine that I took with me out to site and as I flipped the pages, they had questions about almost everything they saw. There was one advertisement for Gillette that shows a guy riding a mechanical bull, "What's this?" they said. So in my not-quite fluent Bambara I told them, "People drink beer and, after that, they drive metal cow."

I'm doing pretty well out there considering it's just me and Africa. But I miss speaking English so much sometimes that I'll just start rambling to one of the kids. "Hey, thanks for letting me borrow your Xbox controller, we were playing Halo all night! The Bengals are looking pretty good right now, I just hope we can make it to the playoffs!" And whoever I'm talking to won't really pay any attention, he'll just keep brewing the tea or roasting the corn or going about his business. And I think, yup, now this kid knows how I feel most of the time.

Despite the fact that I haven't really started my own project, I have found work! Mr. Dembele (my host dad/ guy I'm living with/ former mayor of my village) took me to the school where they asked me if I could help out with the P.E. classes. So during the school week I go up to the school and take the kids out to the soccer field. I feel like a military sergeant when I do it, I have to yell "Gauche!! (Left)- Droite (Right)!!!" over and over and we march like we're going into battle. At the end of the class, I march them back and yell, "M-A-L-I!!", they yell "MALI!!!" I yell, "B-R-A-V-O!!!" and they yell, "BRAVO!!!" And then everybody claps for a job well done and I do it again the next day with another class.

Right now I enjoy helping out with this gym class, I'm not sure if I'll do this the whole time I'm here, but it may provide me with a good outlet to implement some health activities with the students. Physical Education and Health go hand in hand and hygeine, nutrition, and dental health are all areas where a contribution would be beneficial. We'll see how things go...

Ala ka fanga ke I la. (May the Force be with you.)

Well, we did it- we got through the prologue of the journey. Now the real experience starts.

A lot has happened since late August; it was probably much more eventful than the next six months will be. I had one last stay in Sanankoroba and instead of just studying Bambara non-stop, the education group worked on a nice little project together. We busted out the rulers and paint and created a mural, a world map, on the wall at my school. For the first time, I felt like I was creating something sustainable for the community- something that can be utilized for a long time. We listened to some oldies, drank lemonade, and just had a great time with it. We spent two days on the mural, but most of the work was somehow completed after that first day. I spent most of the next morning playing with a sling shot that belongs to one of the Malian kids we always saw hanging around the school. I ended up nailing a rooster which I'm not sure is a good thing considering I'm a Gamecock. I probably shouldn't be shooting rocks at my brother like that.

I had a great last week with my homestay family. It's Ramadan time here in the Muslim world which meant, atleast in my case, amazing food at night when they broke the fast. I had chicken and fries one night! Chicken AND fries!! I'd be sitting there running a train on some chicken and fries, watching soccer on t.v.- it was like being back in the States.

It was really tough to say goodbye to my host family. They took in a young American who knew nothing about this culture- and they took great care of me. I couldn't even really talk to them and yet they still fed me, sheltered me, and taught me everything I know now. You can't explain the kind of support they gave me. I'm gonna miss them very much.

So I said goodbye to Sanankoroba and returned to Tubaniso where I was met with a bunch of tests. Safety and Security tests, Education sector tests, Health tests, all kinds of tests. But the one that really got me nervous was the Bambara test. I had completely bombed the first one (the teacher wrote, "Not enough vocabulary, can't make a sentence."), so I was sweating bullets. I must have made a huge jump though because I was relaxed and speaking pretty clearly the second time around. I received the required Intermediate-Mid level needed to pass and was clear to swear in as a Peace Corps volunteer.

The atmosphere around Tubaniso immediately transformed from stressed to easygoing after the tests were finished. The night before Swear-in we had a talent show and they announced the superlatives of our stage. I was voted "Most likely to save Gotham City". One time I called myself Tonsoke (Batman in Bambara) and the nickname kinda just stuck for some reason... "She was gonna wait for me, Alfred."

Swear-in was a great experience. They hauled off to the U.S. Embassy and the Ambassador of Mali had us raise our right hand and repeat after her. We had made it through our first major hurdle. Then it was picture time, obviously- I'll have to get some of those up.

It was a celebratory night in Bamako- we got a good meal, danced, had a good time. Then came a moment we had all been waiting for; the announcement of our name for the 2009 stage. It's a big deal because a stage name reflects the identity of your group as a whole. For example, the 2006 stage was called "The Belushi's" because they were straight out of Animal House. 2007 was "The Breakfast Club" because they had a lot of clicks. And 2008 was "Honey Bunches of Oats" or Hobo's, because I guess they were sweet but a little nutty.... I didn't really understand that one.

It seems like the moral of the story with our stage was that we took things a lot more seriously than the group before us- we knew how to take care of business. But at the same time, we played hard and weren't afraid to plunge into the unknown. So they decided to call us "Risky Business"... you gotta love it, Tom Cruise.

We had one last night at Tubaniso after Swear-in. Said our goodbyes to each other as we got split up into our different regions to take off. Nobody else from my Sanankoroba group is going to the Sikasso region with me, so they all got a big ole hug. The Sikasso kids arrived here in Sikassoville last Saturday (the 12th) and each day two people have been getting installed in their sites. I was the last one scheduled to get installed, so right now I'm the only one left in town- everyone else has taken off. I leave tomorrow morning (Friday, the 18th) to get installed... and then I'm on my own.

I'll be able to get back to Sikasso every once in awhile to check my mail, do my banking, use the internet, and things like that. But other that, it's finished- time to get out there and do this thing. I'm now walking into Africa on my own.

Take care, I miss you all very much.

Ala ka fanga ke I la.

Hey-oh!

I've been there and finally seen it, my village here in Mali.

The new Sikasso crew took off from here at Tubaniso (the training facility) last Sunday and, for the first time, we were put on public transportation. We hopped on a bus that kinda reminded me of those charter busses you take when you go on field trips in middle school; only it was a good bit dirtier and you're supposed to throw your trash on the floor. I got yelled at by a Malian guy, I guess he didn't like that I was on the bus, but another Malian guy had my back and did some yelling back for me. We got on our way, and it was a pretty entertaining ride, the driver was swerving all over the place at 60+ miles per hour to avoid the all the potholes in the road. About halfway through the trip, the axle on the rear left side got busted, my life flashed before my eyes, and then we got stuck on the side of the road. Three and a half hours were spent wisely in the middle of nowhere; played a little speed scrabble, ate some oranges, one guy even busted out his computer and we watched a little bit of Dumb and Dumber... that Seabass sure got hosed by Lloyd. A new bus eventually came and I actually ended up sitting next to the guy who was yelling at me- oh the simple ironies of life.

Sikasso's really nice. It's really green and hilly in that area, almost like home in a way; if Greenville was located in the third poorest country in the world. We hooked up with the PCVs already down in Sikasso and I got to stay at hotel that had everything; running water, an AC, no mosquitos- it was so beautiful.

Monday morning I took off with Laura Attanasio, a PCV who is all but done here in Mali; she's leaving to go back home to Philly within the next week or so. Her job was to take me up to Klela and hang with me for a day to help me get adjusted. To get to Klela, we took this thing called a bache which is basically a van that they cram forty people into. The whole way up to Klela I remember thinking, "Man... I really love how spacious and comfy airplanes seats are".

The image I had in mind of Klela was completely off. I knew that the town was about the same size as my homestay in Sanankoroba (about 8,000), so I guess I thought there would be some similarities... nope. Sanankoroba is on a main road, has electricity, and gives you some sense of civilization. In Klela there's no electricity or running water, it's only connected to tiny dirt roads, and it's basically a desolate place in the middle of a scenic landscape. It was all a pretty big surprise to me- looks like I'm about to fall even further off the map.

Laura took me around with my homologue (the old, former mayor dude) and I got introduced to the current mayor, the chief of the village, and a couple other people to start getting acquainted to the town. The next day Laura went back to her site, and it was the first time I was alone in Mali. Peace Corps started us off as 65, then we were broken down into region, me and Laura were together, and finally I was by myself; no Americans or English speakers within two hours of me in any direction.

And this is how it's going to be. No wonder this is a two year program, it's going to take an entire year just to integrate. Right now I'm basically a guy in duck costume standing in the middle of the street and saying, "I am help you here". And also based on the fact that this education program is brand new, only in it's second year (and we're the first one's to actually be trained), I know I have to temper my expectations. I feel like my job is to help get the education sector rolling; we're pretty much starting from scratch. We're the trailblazers baby!! We're gonna turn this thing into a well-oiled machine... but it's gonna take years; long after I'm gone.

After the site visit, I met back up with the Sikasso crew and we did Mexican night, and given the circumstances, it was probably the best meal of my entire life. It felt like family- we all pitched in. The PCV's made a grocery list, us PCT's did the shopping (a lot of acronyms, I know), and we all got together and cooked us up some phenomenal tacos.

We've been back here at Tubaniso for the last couple days and it's been relatively laid back. But this feels like the calm before the storm. I'm heading back to Sanankoroba tomorrow for one last time and I'm about to plow through some Bambara so I can pass my proficiency test in a couple weeks. Swear in on September 10th (definitely gottta try to find a place to watch the first NFL game of the season that night) and I know that it's going to be tough final push- a sprint to the finish line. We're getting there!

And like I did last time, I have another birthday shout out- this time to my best buddy. Eric, Richard, it was great talking to you today, have a great birthday brother-man.

N be taa Sikasso! (I'm going to Sikasso!)

So I have a much better understanding of the education system here (or lack thereof). When we left to go back to Sanankoroba two weeks ago, we met up with USAID worker, Rebecca Rhodes, to show us a real Malian school in action. Turns out Rebecca has been working in Africa for years now, she was a PCV in Guinea and also helped start the school at the refugee camp you see in that Blood Diamond movie... unreal. I can't believe I found a direct connection to something like that. She taught a lesson (in French) to a class of first graders and was great with the kids, but her aim was to show us PCT's how bad the situation really is. In first grade we weren't reading Moby Dick or anything, but these kids couldn't get through the alphabet without a world of trouble. These kids get pushed through the system, usually fail the standarized test after 6th grade, and that's usually the end of their formal education. There's a lot of work to be done here.

Back at homestay in Sanankoroba, the Bambara is.... well it's going. I'll get there eventually. One of our assignments was to go to bargain for something in the market (bargaining is the only way you do it here). So I got me a Thierry Henry Barcelona jersey and talked the guy down from 2000 CFA to 1500 CFA; which is like 3 bucks in the U.S. Another night, my host mom was rolling these shells around to tell my fortune... apparently I'm supposed to become the jamanatigi (President) of America. But in order for it to come true I had to buy a chicken for them to sacrifice. I watched my host brother, Drissa, do the deed... that chicken tasted so good.

When we got back to Tubaniso, Peace Corps announced where our sites are going to be. I'll be down in the southeast corner, a village called Klela in the Sikasso region. Apparently it's a milder climate with the rainy season starting early and ending late, has all the best fruits and vegetables, and looks more like what Sub-Saharan Africa is supposed to look like. I feel like I hit the freakin' jackpot. The guy I'm staying with is an old dude who used to be the mayor of Klela, so I got a badass watching my back. We go down there for a week starting this Sunday (Aug. 17th).

And last but not least, a big Happy Birthday to my big sis. Happy Birthday sis, I love you!

N ye tonsoke ye (I am Batman)

So I'm back here at the training facility at Tubaniso and the last two weeks have been completely off the map, I went to this town called Sanankoroba (South of Bamako) to stay with my host family and work on this here Bambara language. The name Jared Tirone has been abandoned and out here I go by Karamogo Camara. And when you tell Malians this is your name it's not like, "Oh this American thinks he's from Africa", they actually buy it. There's seven of us staying in Sanankoroba, all from the education sector, and we spend about five to six hours a day learning whatever language we're assinged to (Bambara, Fulfulde, and French in our group). My host family is nice, they give me way more food than I could ever eat, usually a plate of rice with a beef stew-like topping on it. I haven't eaten anything you wouldn't so far. One night they gave me chicken... I almost pooped myself. I really have a tight connection with my 11 year old host sister, Djenebou, she's a trip. I take bucket baths everyday, I was using the whole bucket at first, but now I'm becoming more energy efficient and can clean up with about half a bucket now. Since everything here is done outside and the building are merely for the bedrooms are merely for the sake of sleeping, my host family busts out the tv everynight in the middle of the courtyard and watches one of those Spanish channel soap operas that's dubbed in French. And it's freakin hot out here... real hot, I never knew I could fall asleep in a room that's 90 degrees. When it rains, my morale gets a major boost. This ain't no freakin' cake walk, but I'm doin' alright. A lot of people have been getting sick out here, amoebas, Mr. D, skin infections, you name it, I've been really lucky so far. I go back out to Sanankoroba soon for another couple weeks, and I'll be out of the loop again for awhile, when I come back I should have a better idea of where my site will be and where I'll be handlin' my biz-nass for the next couple years.

I Ni Sogoma (Good morning),

Been working on this new Bambara language- so far so good, but I think it's about to get real strenous here soon. Wednesday morning we leave this compound to go stay with host families, so we'll be by ourselves in a place where we can barely communicate... should be interesting.

I had my group meeting with the education sector and getting the basics of how the school system works out here- not extremely different from the way it works back home. primary school, high school, university and all. Still can't believe I lucked out getting assigned to the education sector, especially since I thought I was going to be doing water sanitation for 9 months.

The initial shock and surreal feeling of actually being in Africa is starting to fade and turn more into a "Okay, let's get this started" kind of feeling. Starting to get used to sweating a lot, drinking tons of water, using this new bathroom system... we won't get into that.

"This is what's going to change Mali- education." -Demba Boundy-

Hey y'all,

Well I made it one piece to the mother of all mother lands, so that's good. Getting through the Bamako airport was kinda hectic, but other than that, it was a pretty smooth transition from Philly to Mali.

The training site kinda has the feel of summer camp/Freshman year of college. 3 people are in each hut and this training ground resembles a small college campus. Today was the first full day here and I had a session on health and culture (my area of expertise, of course) and got 3 shots, which is never fun... but then again I've heard anyone say, "You know what I love man? GETTING SHOTS!" Pretty good first day of training.