in America. For good.

and my blog home page and all the buttons still show up in French! Awesome!

As hopefully everyone knows by now, Peace Corps and I, back in September, mutually decided that we were not right for each other. And by that I mean, I decided. No one told me I had to go, and they probably would've wanted me to stay. Anyways, I've been at home now for about 6 weeks. It was a huge decision to come back, one that I had been turning over in my head for several months before September.

I've been thinking about it a lot, and I still can't give a great answer as to why. The work situation probably kicked off my negative thinking, but I think mainly it had something to do with the fact that, after a year living in my village, I felt uncomfortable leaving my house. Not unsafe, just afraid of unwanted attention...which is impossible to avoid when you are the sole American living in a tiny village.

I wasn't getting much work done, either, to be honest. And with my attitude becoming more negative and depressed by the day, I knew it wouldn't be fair to Peace Corps or myself to continue living in a situation that wouldn't positively affect my village or my own mental health. So I made the decision to come home.

Which wasn't an easy decision, if I haven't mentioned that. Now I'm in the phase of re-adjusting to American life, which includes the awesomeness of "reverse culture shock." I didn't really think this was real until...well, September. It's crazy, after only a year away, how different I feel. I've found myself totally overwhelmed by the smorgasbord that is America. The grocery store and its many delicious foods I have no problem with; it's the internet, the tv, the car, and everything else keeping me from just sitting down and reading a book that's bothering me. I swear, I'll probably never finish a novel again.

I have daily urges to buy a bus ticket to somewhere out west, set up a teepee and live off the land. There's an emotional side, too; I miss my Peace Corps friends like whoa, and am jealous they get to live another year or 2 in low-stress Mali. I've been told these are all normal feelings to be having, I just don't know how many of them to keep feeling.

Then there's the job search...I don't even want to go there. This was a great time to come back..you know, a time when the newspaper headlines literally, every day, are telling me how many jobs have been cut since yesterday. Lame.

I might keep writing on this blog, if my life gets interesting again. And if anyone still reads it. For now I'm just gonna lay low, and try to enjoy my holidays. Ciao!

Oui, la blanc! Americaine!

-one of many shouts heard when walking down the street, Anywhere, Mali..that and the "Awa! Fatimata! Mariam! Mariam!!!" of random shopkeepers trying to guess my name (which is Djeneba). Surprisingly, I'd rather turn my head to being called "white" or "American" than "toubab," which also means white person but is more annoying when called at you, because it's usually said over and over and over again to get your attention. It is really hard to blend in here..ha.

I watched "Fast Food Nation" the other day. If that movie's goal is to gross you out and turn you against eating meat, it should not be marketed in Africa. The whole time I was watching, I was thinking...cow poop in the burgers? There's poop on everything I eat. Poop particles practically float in the air here. Also, the scenes of cows being butchered in the factory made my mouth water, and also made me think how lucky Americans are that we get to eat so much meat, so often. Protein!

On the subject of cows, a friend of mine recently tested positive for tuberculosis, which comes from unpasteurized dairy products, and I think doesn't show symptoms until you've had it for awhile. The treatment for tuberculosis, which she has to take, consists of 3 months(!) of medication during which you can't, according to rumor, eat dairy products(including chocolate!) or drink alcohol. She's going to Ghana on vacation soon and asked the doctor if she could put off starting the meds until after her trip-apparently they have really good chocolate in Ghana.

I stopped drinking milk here long ago because it upset my stomach. Probably a wise decision. I recently discovered pasteurized milk at a dairy in San, but I'm a little wary. How do I know it's really pasteurized? It is possible to buy regular milk and boil it to kill any possible diseases, but I've never seen any other volunteers do that.

Another thing I've never seen volunteers do: treat local tap water. It's supposedly chlorinated, but would we really know the difference? Something to think about...

back in Mali

The sewers are full, the streets are like obstacle courses...huge mud puddles everywhere. My America trip was awesome but I'm kind of afraid to wear any of my new clothes outside. Every passing car is a risk at getting splashed by mud.

It feels kind of weird being back, but kind of normal. I'm gonna miss good food..whole wheat bread, skim milk, asparagus, etc...mmmm. One thing that makes me feel better is the arrival of the new group, who got here a few days after I left...they're all getting sick for the first time and asking the same one million questions that we all were last year. At least I'm a little more comfortable than I was this time last year. I think the biggest thing is knowing when people are trying to rip you off, and having enough Bambara skill to verbally laugh in their faces when they try.

I'm going back to my village the end of this week, or next week sometime. We'll see how it goes...

i'm in america...at least for a little while

so technically, I shouldn't be glued to the internet, and should be out enjoying the beautiful Atlanta weather (it's actually cool. I haven't sweated yet). But I think it's been too long since I could just stare at the computer and look up random stuff and play with my itunes. Plus my parents have DSL so why not?

It took me 3 days to take a shower after I got off the plane. There's just no dirt here. And it's not hot enough to sweat, so why waste the water?

I'm having a wonderful time eating fruits and veggies and black beans and not gorging myself on any of it. I've also gotten a pedicure and a haircut and gone shopping..although this season's fashion leaves something to be desired. Apparently the trend now is super thin shirts that are also baggy. Or like hippy looking shirts...you know, pregnancy style. It doesn't really work for me, because I swim in my clothes when they fit. Gone are hoodies and cute bright vintage shirts. I'm kind of glad I don't have to be in America for this fashion season.

To South Carolina today for the holiday. Happy July 4th!!

The open sewers of Bamako are filling up!

Thanks to the rains, there are little rivers of joy flowing through our dear capital. It's kind of like, remember that creek that cut through the middle of campus, next to Sanford Stadium? Tanyard Creek? I only know the name because I did a project on how polluted it is. Anyways, imagine that green juicy goodness sitting in a 3 foot deep canal next to you on every sidewalk. In addition to providing nice scenery for your walk, the sewers create a fragrant stench that even follows you into buildings. (Kind of like the East Campus Funk! Wow, Bamako is more like Athens than I even knew) ....and create a breeding ground for mosquitos. Oh yeah, and the juice doesn't go anywhere. Once the sewers are full someone comes to pump them out before they overflow (hopefully). I never knew how grateful I was for storm drains and underground sewers.

I'm in Bamako for my mid-service medical exam, and because I'm flying out on Saturday night!!! So, I've got a few days to bum around the city, eat actual food, say last minute goodbyes, etc. Unfortunately I won't be having any last-minute beers at the Campagnard, because as a result of one of the many bodily-fluid tests we have to take at mid-service, I found out I have amoebas! Amoebic dysentery, actually. Fun little creepy crawly parasites in my intestine. The treatment involves 3 days of 4 huge pills a day to kill the amoebas, and no alcohol during or for 2 days after because interaction with the drug causes "violent vomiting." So much for on the plane/just off the plane partying. The meds apparently make you sicker before they make you better-witnessed by the fact I almost passed out in the artisan market a few hours ago, and subsequently almost vomited while waiting for the little taxi truck to leave. Think I'll rest up today and not try to brave Bamako heat and pushy vendors while these drugs are coursing through my body. I've never actually thrown up in public, but I don't really have a desire to.

I'm surprised I didn't catch amoebas earlier. Even our doctors say it's pretty much a matter of time before you get it-it comes from dirty water/dirty hands/pretty much any surface that isn't a bar of soap. I've been lucky, I think...I've only taken medicine for sickness twice in a year. Some people have caught amoebas 10 or 12 times. Go immune system!

The reaction I got when I told people (volunteers) that I was sick was funny..in America if you told someone you had intestinal parasites, they'd probably take pity on you, or be grossed out. The responses I got yesterday (I swear to god): "Aww!", "Sweet!", and "Congratulations!"

this is how we party

My village has been partying a lot lately. In fact, this past week we had 4 days in a row of nighttime parties, the first 2 for the young single girls and the other 2 for the married women. Not coincidentally, rainy season is starting for real, which is why I think people are so happy, and partying so much. Anyways, here's a short photo illustration of what happens at a Niasso party...

guys dressed up in their brand new clothes (Nike Airs courtesy of World Vision, who donated pairs to every kid in the secondary school this year)

girls dolled up, new hair all around

dance!! and balafon and drums! my favorite thing about little kids: when the music starts, they can't stop themselves from dancing. It's like their feet just take over..the cutest thing EVER

I'm glad I discovered this uploading video thingy on blogger. I hope these work out for your viewing pleasure.

I'm currently having vivid America dreams every night, making it weird to wake up in my village. It reminds me of the beginning, when I first got here, until the African and Bambara-speaking dreams took over. As far as the countdown goes, it's 2 weeks until I get on the plane! I'll have my same old cell phone number while I'm there, so call me up! No official plans yet, aside from July 4th in South Carolina, riding Erin's new jetski on the lake! yesssssssss

Fun on Transport, Chapter 786

You just paid 3000 Cfa (full price!) to ride in style on an open-topped truck full of freight. You'll be constantly reshifting to get comfortable, as you'll get lower and lower into the truck as sacks are unloaded at random villages. Just FYI, the best combination of seating= rice sack under you, cotton sack behind you, and a giant tire at one side for an armrest. If the tire's not your style, don't worry, we'll stop soon so they can switch it out with the one that just went flat. Which will subsequently be switched out for the original one when it goes flat. If you're feeling hot and want a breeze, feel free to sit up top, but be aware of fast-approaching tree branches at the side of the road, and be prepared to duck for neem leaves flying at your face. Don't get mad at the poor packing skills of the drivers as they have to shuffle for whatever's at the bottom of the pile every time you stop. Also, buy food at every possible opportunity, even if it's stale bread. Never know when you're gonna be sleeping on the roadside.

The funniest part was we bought tickets for the ride too.

This post dedicated to bus 786, which ferried me to Shamrock Middle School every day in 7th and 8th grade.





Also, a quote from this month's Vogue article about the Festival in the Desert in Northern Mali:
"We can pack and plan all we like, but nothing prepares us for Mali."

(another example of the fine public transportation of la Republique du Mali)

My house flooded

Last Thursday was a fun night. I went to bed outside, feeling slightly sickly and with a wary half-eye towards the sky. The wind was whipping and it was cloudy, but I risked it anyway because the inside of my house was hot. I had to move inside a little while later when the rain started, and laid on a mat in the room with the door-the coolest room in my little 3-room hut. The wind got ferocious and soon the rain was coming down heavily, and it started coming under the door. More specifically, dripping from the top of my house, through the door frame and onto the floor. My door was shut tight but it didn't stop the water, which started inching into the room. I had seen this once before, during site visit, but it wasn't bad, so I went back to sleep, exhausted and nauseous.

I woke up who knows how long later and felt the mat-totally soaked, meaning water had reached the other side of the room...and suddenly 1:30 am found me herding my floor-bound possessions (my mat, magazines, books and boxes) to a drier room, only slightly drier though. Water was dripping in through the windows in the other 2 rooms.

I peeked outside the door, braving the whipping winds and flying dried millet stalks, to check out my yard. It was also flooded, and I had to wade through the water to free some rocks from their spot under my gate to let the water out, lest it get any higher and start spilling over my porch and into my house.

I moved to my bed to sleep, under a window but dry. The wall under the window, though, had a steady drip of water going down it, eroding the mud, which was made easier because my whole house is infested with termites. I actually saw the termites crawling through their little tunnels in the wall trying to find a dry spot. gross.

Also, here's the thing about mud bricks- they're made of mud, water, and sun. Take away sun and add water again, and they tend to want to go back to their original state. This means that with every rain a little bit of the mud washes off houses and walls. Even with all the trouble people go to to reapply mud every year, most of it washes off. It also means that you're not only wading through water in your house the morning after a big storm-it's dirty, muddy water at that.

I spent the morning sweeping/mopping water out, and the house is still not totally dry.
That was a bona-fida flood on Thursday. The proof is still on the walls, a dark stain about an inch up. After a quick call to Peace Corps for advice, they told me to buy some tin to make a ledge above the door and windows (but that they won't reimburse me for it). I'm in San now to buy it, and hopefully it'll get installed before the next big rain.

In other news-the well was finished in 3 days! All it took was some motivated hard workers and a couple of bags of cement. And even with the rain, the cement still dried.

some pictures before my time runs out at the internet cafe

The wall of dust before the storm, as seen from my yard. You've got about 3 minutes, when it's this close, to get all your stuff inside, shut all the windows and doors and hunker down. Unbelievably, it didn't even rain this time..just 30 minutes of windblown sand.

A Malian parking lot. Horses & their carts, in San on market day

I've gotten into a routine of eating, something I've been wanting to do for a long time but hadn't figured out. With my nearest good market, in San, being an hour and half away by bike, I can only get there realistically once a week. It's the only place I can reliably get fruit and vegetables, but it's hard to carry back a week's worth of produce on a bike, and since there's no refrigeration (and, it being hot season, the inside temperature of my house climbing over 100 degrees every day), it all goes bad pretty quickly.

My host family has been gracious enough to continue feeding me, but their supplies are dwindling. All the beans, chickpeas and fonio they harvested has been eaten, leaving only millet and sorghum, which are basically the same grain. I've been eating millet or sorghum to (dough with leaf sauce) every day for lunch since moving here, but dinner variety has dwindled from 5 to 2 options, one of which, millet seri, a porridge, I have somehow formed a mental block against and can't eat. I think it's the sweetness at night. My other option is kininke kini, a couscous made from sorghum, with delicious sauce. I guess I shouldn't be complaining-my host mom is a good cook and tries to innovate and make variety when there is none. Also, some of our neighbors' graineries have recently become completely empty, leaving them with no choice but to make a trip to San or another big market to buy a 50 kg sack of grain.

There is no other way to get food in small villages like mine but to make it yourself. There is one woman who cooks rice with peanut sauce to sell, but most families in my village can not afford the 200 francs a plate, especially when they have 10+ mouths to feed.

These days I eat breakfast at home, oatmeal or granola from Bamako, "toubab food." I eat lunch at noon with my host family, and then dinner isn't served until 8 or later, leaving a big afternoon gap where the aforementioned produce comes into the picture. For a few days after visiting San I have great afternoon snacks at site-fruit salad, tomato and cucumbers. For the remaining days I have a stock of American food thanks to yall gracious enough to send me stuff. I really appreciate it, or rather, my really fast metabolism appreciates it. I usually end up chowing down on this afternoon food because in a normal world, lunch would have filled me and I would be eating dinner at a decent time. But oh well, guess this is my normal world now.

I've noticed a snack the kids in my host family have started eating. They call them "kuntan kolo," kuntan being a type of tree that produces fruit, kolo being "nut," the nut that's inside the fruit. Apparently, though, this nut can only be eaten after goats have eaten the fruit and pooped out the hard shell that the nut is inside of. Kids, and adults alike, spend afternoons collecting nuts from among the goat poop and sitting down to crack them open with a rock. The nut itself is pretty similar to a walnut. Pretty delicious, although I'm kind of wary because it's obviously been mingling with, well, poop. No word on whether the goat actually needs to actually eat the fruit-that's just the story I got.

On a related note, I drank some wine made from the kuntan fruit yesterday. Not very delicious. My family seems to think that wine is good for health, though, and encouraged their kids, including the 3 year old, to take liberal sips from the bowl.

I've been helping my host family out on dinner, bringing them a few kilos of beans a week, which they can cook, with oil and onions on top, for everyone. My host mom makes the best beans in Mali, so we all appreciate it.

I was talking to my host dad recently about the grain storage building in town and how it works, and he told me each of 65 families gets to take 1 sack when they need it, and repays a sack when their own grain is harvested. I don't know if this means one a month or one period, but when I asked him if that was enough he said no, not at all.

We talked about the food price crisis, which he'd heard about on the radio. Luckily it's not affecting our part of Mali, but at over $20 a sack, millet is not cheap for families scraping by on nothing, especially when it takes 1 and half sacks a month to feed a normal family. "Normal family" size also fluctuates, increasing in the rainy season when young men move home to help work the fields. This means more mouths to feed at the time when grain is in shortest supply-it has been harvested almost a year ago. I had heard the term "hungry season" before, and it was brought up again during our conversation. "In rainy season," he told me, "people are hungry." An amazing thing about Malians, or maybe all Africans, is the way they help each other even when they have almost nothing. No one's babies are gonna go hungry because one family is short this month. Their neighbors will be there to help them out.

my project is funded already!

that was quick! thanks, donors. guess it's time to start working. hopefully it won't get too rainy before we can finish. the rain hasn't been heavy at all, or frequent, but you can tell rainy season is on the way.

Yesterday in San I had a weird experience..it was nice outside, a little cloudy, and I had just bought some tomatos in market and was walking back to the house. I was walking towards the mosque and saw some dark clouds behind it, in the east. (I knew it was east because all mosques face east. Also, let's face it, I can't not know what direction I'm going these days, with the sun being the best landmark. The clouds started getting darker and the wind picked up, and strangely started turning brown and hazy. I turned a corner and the wind picked up a lot.. I had to hold my skirt down and cover my face against the dust with my non-tomato-holding hand. Turns out the brown clouds were really dust, a huge hazy wall coming towards downtown San. I looked down a street and couldn't see the end of it for all the dust. Cars and motos started turning on their headlights, and I felt like I was in the path of a volcanic ash storm. When I turned the corner towards the house, the buildings were funneling the wind and dust and I could hardly walk against it. Sand was pelting my glasses, the only part of my face not covered with my scarf. I never thought a dust storm could affect cities like that, but I guess when the roads aren't paved it's the same as being en brousse. I got to the house as soon as the rain started. I remember storms like this (refer to last fall's entry). Rainy season is gonna make for some good blog entries.

Speaking of San, which I tend to think of as a real city, and my salvation from village, I saw the city's trash collection method last week.. a guy with a donkey cart. He comes to your house and dumps your trash into his cart (for a fee), and then takes it to an unknown location, probably just a centralized dumping ground, or burning pit. For a while I wondered what the strange smoky smell was that hit me every time I got close to San while biking in from my village. After experimenting with it myself at home, I realized what the smell was: burning garbage! I'm an advocate for it, even though my burning plastic is letting who knows what into the atmosphere. Better than letting kids rummage through my old bandaids and such.

Donate to my project!

Only $246 dollars left to finish my well! Feel free to donate! My village has already dug the well and hit water, and now they only need cement, iron bars and a few tools to finish it up. I'm hoping to help them finish it before rainy season starts, and before my sojourn to America in July.

Here's the link:
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.donatenow&

and search by country (Mali)... it's under S. Myers (well)

or, if that doesn't work
go to the main Peace Corps page, www.peacecorps.gov
click the link on the left that says "Donate Now"
click on "Donate to Volunteer Projects"
search by country name

Thanks!!! and thanks to everyone that's still reading!!

On another note, I think I reached my mango saturation point this week. I've been eating 2 or 3 a day because they're so cheap, but they're also really sweet. I think I'm gonna need a break for a little while. Back to bananas?

baby donkeys are the cutest animal on planet earth

one look at these pictures and you will agree

I couldn't see the full moon the other day

because it was RAINING!!! the first rains since 2007 hit Niasso, and they hit hard. It poured all night! A little of a bummer because it meant I had to sleep inside, but exciting because it means rainy season is on the way!! I don't think it really starts until May or June, but it was a nice preview.

For some reason I have a longing for rainy season, if only because it means relief from this heat. I didn't realize my scalp could sweat so much. On the other hand, rainy season might be annoying because rain turns my village into a giant mud puddle. Also, I had gotten to know every nook and cranny of the road to my house, and the rain washed all the nooks away. How will I ever get around in the dark now?

I lit my oil lamp for the first time in a few months the other day, too, just because it was so creepy outside, with the wind and thunder and rain. It was nice to have a little warm light for company. My headlamp just makes me feel like I'm in the blair witch project when I use it inside my house. It provides just enough light to spook the critters out of their hiding places, but not enough light to scare them out of the house. yuck.

I finished my funding proposal to help my village finish their well with cement. They finally hit water in the well after about 30 days of digging.

On a related note, my host dad descended into his own well the other day, after my little sister threw her shoe into it. "How else are we going to get it out?" was his explanation for the necessity of going in...but I think he was just trying to show off. After 10 minutes at the bottom, balancing on the interior wall and fishing around with a stick, he only came up with a handful of twigs, but no shoe.

I'm busy lately trying to get motivated to do work, planning for my trip home in July, and fanning myself. I also took some of the women in my village to a training on how to make cleaner shea butter.

See yall soon! Those dates again are JUNE 29TH - JULY 20TH.

I thought this was cute, and I have fast internet today

Me and Jamie pointing to our villages on the region map. This was way back at site visit. Jamie's actually moving a little ways up the road to another village this month, but we shall still be teammates.

The mango trees are fruiting again!

Yummy dangly deliciousness is in the air. The first mangos have started appearing in the market and hanging from the zillions of mango trees in my village, and they are freaking delicious, and cheap since they're everywhere. Unfortunately mangos have a sinister secret: the ability to bring on varying degrees of allergic reaction. Apparently it's related to poison ivy. I haven't been afflicted, but some of my friends have.

Signs of a reaction include: swollen lips, tingly limbs, itchy legs, paranoia, and sudden dependance on benadryl. Treatment consists of the aforementioned benadryl or, if you're feeling daring, a visit to your local animist healer for some soothing homemade lip balm.

Day 4 of Amy's mango reaction, after visiting the healer. She's still considering eating mangos...they're that delicious.

I heard a rumor that you have to pay a tan (aka 50 CFA=10 cents) if you pick the mangos from someone's tree, but if they fall on the ground they're free for the taking. I think I might camp out under this one...

i'm still terrified of bulls,

but i try to remember the "animals can sense fear" theory. that and, "they're more afraid of you than you are of them." the yard next to my house is a grazing ground for cattle. and sheep, and goats, and the one albino donkey that lives across the road. oh yeah, and the annoying chirpy guinea fowl that like to hop over my wall sometimes. ooh! here's a picture! this is one of my first days in Niasso...the view from my house (picture taken by Susie). The buildings are the primary school so the normal view is of several million screaming little kids. And there's no grass there anymore..there hasn't been since October.

ALSO....June 28th-July 20th=see you in America!!! Meet me at any all-you-can-eat buffet. On a related note, I had a dream last night that someone sent me 3 turkey sandwiches in the mail. mmm....

Bara daminera

=Work has started. Sort of. My villagers have started digging a well, with the idea that we can fence the area around it. I myself am not feeling so confident about this project, because the area to be fenced is right next to another fenced area with nothing in it, which is the result of a failed tree-planting project. I have flashes of the word "sustainability" every time I think about this project, being the peace corps volunteer that I am..and I still haven't figured out how to say "it doesn't make sense" in Bambara. As in, building a new fence right next to this old one...it doesn't make sense!

Village politics are also increasingly keeping me from understanding why we can't just plant trees inside the existing fence. I think my Bambara is getting better just from arguing with people, and I'm figuring out how my village works-apparently, those community members with money have more decision-making power than even the village chief. Those without money are, and I quote, "afraid" of those with money. I have the urge to tell people, "that's not how it works in America!" but I don't know if that's entirely true.

On the bright side, I'm gaining confidence in myself as I figure out how I fit in in my village. After weeks (actually months. since the beginning, really) of moping and thinking I have the entirely wrong personality for this job-I'm not a leader, I'm not even much of a talker-I (think) I've finally sucked it up and realized no one's going to do my job for me. The reality of this is still setting in, but I'm not afraid of anyone in my village, so that gives me an advantage already.

Here's a cool thing I saw yesterday...3 little girls throwing old D batteries at a lined up collection of other batteries. Some kind of improvised battery-bowling game, haha.

The sunsets are amazing lately. It's hot again, and the winds blow like crazy, always East to West. I realized this week that every house in my village is built in the same direction, with the doors and windows on either the north or south side of the house, I guess to deflect the force of the winds, and eventually the rain that will blow with it.

Sorry for the lack of updates...I'm still trying to figure out what people want to read. Oh yeah, still working on that trip home in the summer.

Good things to send = CDs with new music...girl scout cookies...letters!

p.s. are yall really paying 4 dollars a gallon for gas??

Day 1 of well-digging. We're on day 15 now and we still haven't hit water. cross your fingers...

I'm back in Mali

3/3/08

...and I think I ate cow stomach last night. I was asking my host father what it was, and all he could say was "meat." It was truly delicious though, after a week of sorghum-based food.

WAIST and Senegal were amazing, the overnight bus ride there and back on the world's crappiest road (all the way across Senegal) notwithstanding. I don't know if I deserved this vacation, but I definitely enjoyed it. I think our team won some softball games...I was kind of too busy laying by the pool at the American Club and eating HOT DOGS to pay much attention. Dakar is like America and nothing like Bamako...all the roads are paved! there aren't donkey carts everywhere!

Dakar!!! aka Paris in Africa

some of team Mali in our awesome uniforms. note ocean in background. (!!!)

sunset over Dakar

hanging by the pool at the American Club

team Mali went to a real beach after the tournament...me and Tam having a romantic moment in the sunset

I'm going to Senegal!!

Like, today. For WAIST. aka west african international softball tournament. aka, the beach!! I'm excited beyond words...the 30-hour bus ride to get to Dakar notwithstanding. but at least we'll all be together. most of us, anyways...

50-something peace corps volunteers + one bus + 30 hours= guess we'll find out today

by the way, i think hot season has descended upon us in Mali. take a look at the Bamako weather forecast and you'll see what I mean. I'll miss you, cold season...

pictures! more later, i promise

a lot of people looking really colorful... shea butter training at Lindsey's site

trek through the sahara! actually just to Lindsay's site. she lives by the river

Lindsay and I and our grafted shea trees

full moon! view from atop my wall

bread staging area before being taken to the oven...my brother Adama

bread coming out of the oven

my bro bro Daran making bricks to rebuild the garden wall

opening presents on christmas!

SORRY

for the delay, that last post is unfortunately outdated already. The work situation in my village has changed and I'm kinda back to square one. We decided to drop the tree-planting project because it was getting too complicated...things weren't what they originally seemed. I'm working now with my host father and another woman in the village to figure out what work I can do. It's narrowed down to helping the women with shea butter production/shea nut selling, planting random trees in gardens around town (starting with my own yard first), and test plots to try different varieties of a crop like sorghum or millet. We'll see what happens...it's frustrating to not have a clear view of what I'm doing, but I like my village and want to help them.

thank you thank you thank you for the letters!! i'm getting better at writing too, i promise.
more pictures to come soon! getting them up takes forever.....ugh

it's been too long

the theme of this entry is: don't forget me!

this is entirely too long. sorry

Making it to this training has basically been the goal I've been looking towards since swear-in/installation. We first-year volunteers are not really supposed to start projects in our first 3 months at site-we're supposed to have been getting to know our villages and learning what we might want to work on, and improving our language skills. I had a good Bambara tutor in my village, the English teacher at the secondary school, for the first few weeks, but he got a little busy when school started in October, since there are only 3 teachers. I haven't had a real tutor since. I can still ask people what things are called, but it gets a little tiring to get your point across in Bambara sometimes, and I am, in fact, still an introvert. Coming to an entirely foreign country and culture hasn't changed my personality, but if anything it's made my inner introvert come out with a vengeance. Being here has also made me, apparently, more prone to random outburts of anger. I knew my emotions were going out of whack when one afternoon saw me screaming at 2 little kids when they refused to leave my concession after repeated requests, Bambara turning into English obscenities turning into me dragging the kids across the sand by their arms and slamming my wooden gate on them. This was followed by a retreat into my house to collapse and sob uncontrollably about everything and nothing for a few minutes before collecting myself. It sounds bad, and unfortunately things like it happened more times than I would have liked the past few months.

Niasso soccer team. they played Jiginna (it was a tie)

My cuz Ami, getting her hair done by my sis, Batima

How I spent a lot of October and November (knee deep in peanuts)

my bedroom!

I had a hard time at the beginning of December, realizing that I wouldn't be going home for christmas, my first time missing christmas in Atlanta...ever. It was hard thinking about not seeing anybody, especially my long-distance friends, the ones who have been long-distance for awhile...the ones I see, if ever, at christmastime. Also, I hadn't talked to anyone on the phone since, like, July, and had no idea what was happening in anyone's life. I convinced myself I would feel better if I could just have a day, or even an hour, with each of my friends. This, unfortunately, was all internalized and on a constant loop in my thoughts, which led to several incidents of crying in public. It was somewhat intentional...I wanted someone in my village to ask what was wrong. Malians really aren't big on that, apparently, and the few that did ask could really only offer "don't cry" as advice. You can see how frustrating that could be. I was getting altogether tired of studying Bambara, and asking people how their crops were, or whatever, and luckily I found something to do for a little while-there was a national vaccination campaign and I helped out at my clinic for a week. Since my village is the commune center it has the clinic (and the mayor's office and secondary school) that serves a population of 8,000 in 28 villages. Women from my village and others brought their babies to get vitamin A, albendazole and polio vaccines, and received mosquito nets for coming. It was a zoo-even though the vaccines were limited to kids only up to age 5, most women, some younger than me, had 2 kids with them. I was the mosquito net giver-outer, a job which didn't require any talking, or touching kids, ha. The women also wore their best outfits to the clinic, so I got to watch a parade of perfectly tailored complets, picking out fabrics I liked and planning future outfits for myself. This has become one of my favorite hobbies-the tailors here can work magic, if they understand what you're telling them.

The sun setting behind the mosque...just pretend it's a pinhole camera

Thanksgiving in Segou

Segou pirogues

Anyways, December was possibly the slowest month, even with some distraction. The thoughts of missing home were, and still are, accompanied by the thought that my lifestyle is changing. It was helping me in the beginning to think of this as a long vacation, at the end of which I could go back to all the things I used to do. I'm accepting now, though, that I have to find new hobbies. As of now all I've got is sudoku, reading, cutting weird pictures out of magazines to put in letters to you, and thinking about when I can travel next. I tried growing onions in my yard for a bit but some chickens came and ate them, so I gave up on gardening. The soil and the animals and the fierce harmattan winds make gardening challenging...maybe I'll try next year. A lot of other volunteers, the girls at least, are doing crafty things like knitting or beading or embroidery to stay entertained at site. Beads are plentiful at market-I just have to get some motivation to do something other than sit around and eat candy.

bored while waiting for transportation at the roadside=photo shoot!

The Christmas holidays provided good distraction, and I can say for sure now that I've luckily been able to retain dancing as a hobby, at least when I'm around other volunteers. Even though I don't really know who I am anymore, and have a hard time conversing about much of anything, at least I can still dance...dancing doesn't require talking. hmm, I'm noticing a theme. Anyways, the 9 of us in San exchanged presents and decked out the house and ate an awesomely delicious Christmas feast. I also went to Catholic church on Christmas-this country is 90-something percent Muslim but there is a small Catholic population among the Bobo ethnic group (I still don't know if Bobo is the PC term, so pardon if it's not). They live around the San area. The mass was interesting as different parts of it were given in French, Bambara, and Bomu, the Bobos' language. The nativity that was set up beside the alter was fabulous-wooden carvings of jesus and the crew, the whole thing decorated with sparkly tinsel, flashing rainbow lights and a garland of shredded notebook paper.

In our Christmas outfits after church (but before presents!)

The holiday season was also accompanied by Tabaski, the big end of Ramadan feast. Ramadan ended a few months ago, but this feast occurs in December, signifying, according to Ameera, the time when Muslims make their pilgrimage to Mecca...either that or they return. wait-here's a link. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_ul-Adha. omg, how i've missed wikipedia. The feast also fell, neatly, at the end of harvest work in my village. Tabaski, or seliba in Bambara, was celebrated over several days. The kids got out of school for their holiday break and the next day feasting began. My family killed one of their goats, and I bought a guinea fowl to give to them to eat. My host father bought rice and spaghetti and we ate lunch till we were way past full. Even thought it's supposed to be a time of rest, my family baked several batches of bread during the day, which sold to other feasting families as soon as they came out of the oven. It was a fantastic day. me and my dad and siblings spent the entire day hanging out, listening to the radio, drinking tea and playing cards. My mom, of course, was in the gwabugu (cooking hut) all day cooking food, and I couldn't help feeling guilty and kind of sad about that-even on a holiday women still have to work. My younger siblings got dressed up in new shirts and went around giving blessings, just like the first Ramadan feast.

I enjoy days when my host dad is not working and we can hang out and chat. He's lived in Niasso his whole life and knows everything about it, or at least he's a good storyteller, even if some of it is not true. One of my favorite things to do is ask him about old times...he's told me about the time before there was a paved road, and the village was so poor, no one had horses or carts or even clothins, and if you wanted shoes you would have to wait until a cow was killed...and your dad would lay down the skin and cut out the shape of your feet as you stood on it, to make leather shoes. We also talk about the stars and planets and science. He knows a surprising amount, a lot more than most Malians, I think thanks to the last volunteer who was in Niasso (thanks, Bintou). I like hearing the Malian twist on things-like the constellation they call the "galama stars"-the galama is the ladle they use to drink porridge.

Since this blog entry is already disorganized, I'll sum up this part by saying I spent New Year's in Segou, which was entirely too crunk, for lack of a better description. City volunteers really live differently from brousse-y ones like me. After new year's I spent a week writing the report I've been working on since installation, and getting ready to come here, to Bamako. The report basically summed up everything I've learned about my village, and now that I've done my "assessment" I have an idea about what my village wants to work on. They, specifically the men's association, wants to plant trees that might eventually be used to generate income. Specifically, they want to plant gum arabic trees, whose gum can be made into adhesive, and also a cool plant called jatropha. It's currently used as live fencing around crop fields because of its animal- and pest-repellant properties, but its seeds also contain a lot of oil, which can be processed into biofuel. It grows really fast and well, even in poor soil, which is a plus here. In addition, the men want to plant eucalyptus, to use the wood for construction. But before planting anything, we need pretty much everything-seeds, tools, a water source-which is where I come in.

My work was seeming clear-cut and ready to start, which is very different from some other volunteers, some of whom have little idea, even a few months in, what their village really wants from them. I was, and am, feeling pretty lucky. I held a meeting a few days before I left for Bamako, which was attended by the chief and village elders, as well as about 20 men and 10 women. I had not been able to get that many people together ever before, especially during the daytime; previous meetings I've had have all happened at night and with the few people with enough energy to attend after a full day of work. I think, though, the meeting was cursed from the start, when a bull separated from its herd came very close to panicking in our meeting space. We were sitting behind the mosque, in an open space where another aforementioned bull was slaughtered a few months earlier. I think maybe this bull sensed some bad juju in the area, and thus I spent a good part of the beginning of the meeting huddled in a corner watching the bull's every move. Meanwhile, the chief was chattering on and everyone else was ignoring the distraction. Bulls don't scare Malians.


When business finally turned to my work, the chief presented what I and my counterpart wanted to do and asked if the village agreed. The village already has a fenced-in area, which an NGO built and planted trees in about 5 years ago. The trees died because, according to villagers, they were planted in the wrong season and without a reliable water source. I don't know if this is entirely true, but coming in I, and some of my village counterparts, assumed this was the area I would be helping my village to plant trees in. At the meeting, however, I was informed this area could not be used because it belonged to the NGO and not the village, and another area would have to be found for tree planting. Next order of business: well in the women's garden. After a few minutes of deliberation, with the men speaking on behalf of the women even though several were present, it was decided that...well the women's garden belongs to World Vision...Peace Corps can't work there! So basically my project ideas, the ones I'd had in mind for months, were shattered in just a few minutes. One of the women, my friend Alima, realized what had just happened and came over to comfort me, and told me I could maybe help the women with animal raising if I wanted. It was kind of ironic that it happened that way...and it just shows the slow pace of development work, and how much patience I'm going to have to have.
Fortunately a few days later the men showed me a new area where we can work together to create a tree plantation. Ironically it's literally on top of the other fenced-in area. When asked if we could piggyback the new fence onto the old one, thereby saving time and money, I was turned down because we have to allow room for a donkey cart path.


All of this is, of course, very tentative and may end up happening completely differently. My job right now is to start making a project plan in my village. This could eventually include writing proposals for funding from an outside source, if materials are needed, or linking up my villagers with resources of information. They already know a lot more than I do-my counterpart has a big garden and tree nursery where he experiments with all kinds of tree seeds and grafting. There are also a few people in town experienced in sinking wells. It seems the situation is the same for a lot of volunteers, in Mali and elsewhere-people have the knowledge and motivation to do the work, they just don't have the resources to do it. I really admire those among my villagers who are willing to go the extra mile to help develop their community. Lord knows each and every one of them have their hands full trying to keep themselves and their families alive and fed every day. I really don't know how they do it. You can't be lazy here if you want to survive.
For the next few months I'll be focusing on this project, hanging out in village with occasional trips to San, and possibly Senegal. Oh yes, and planning my trip home to visit America. I'm thinking a few weeks in June/early July maybe. Pencil me in!!


whoa, that was long. do people really read all this?

happy new year!

i'm in Bamako for a few weeks for more training. this is my first time seeing most of my fellow volunteers since swear-in. i'm also eating good food, and using internet, but unfortunately not bathing, because all we have is cold showers and it's FREEZING here. i don't think many people have showered since we got to Bamako. i never knew it could get so cold, and you really feel it when you're sleeping in an unheated hut. wool blankets and bonfires help, though.
this round of training is supposed to be more technically focused, so we can actually start planning projects for our villages. so far we've seen how to build a charcoal oven (for making charcoal more efficiently), and a tree planting method which apparently works on magic-you plant the trees, water them once, and then watch them grow. i'll probably be using it- my village wants to do a bunch of stuff, related to trees, which i will write about later...

the last few months have been a rollercoaster, and supposedly the hardest portion of peace corps service. now that they're over, though, it seems kind of like they flew by. hanging out with other volunteers over the holidays helped, as did talking to everyone on the phone after giving up on getting phone calls from the US, and dropping a hundred bucks on phone credit. that was seriously the greatest self-esteem boost, and i really really needed it, so thanks for answering the phone....yall. i miss everybody!

more, much more informative information later. and pictures, which make up for my current lack of blog prose. and which are much more entertaining.