this is an exterpt from an email update to the NMPCA who have supported many of my projects and even come to visit a time or two- I just copy and pasted but it is an update on how my village handled the coup and such...
The most pressing issue right now is the recent military coup. Since
Greg filled you in on the situation in Bamako, I won’t go into that
and I am honestly not too familiar with everything quite yet. I was
in my village until Monday evening without radio, internet, and
unusually bad cell phone reception, so I only had my village friends
to keep me updated. And boy did they keep me updated- there are
conspiracy theories running rampant through the Malian grape vine.
Stories about how ATT planned this or about how France sent the
weapons to the Touraegs so that they could have a reason to fight and
regain control of Mali.
The first response of my friends in village was excitement. On
Thursday morning, after I received a phone call from Greg telling me
that the night before the military had taken over the presidential
palace, I ran outside and asked my host dad what was going on. He was
very excited, and said that ATT wasn’t treating the military or their
families well in light of the situation up north. He said that the
rebels were winning and that ATT wasn’t doing enough. They didn’t
propose solutions to the problem; they only expressed their new found
dislike for ATT. It is strange because they used to love ATT and
respect him for his actions in the past promoting and upholding
democracy. The village changes their opinions so quickly based on
popular opinion from the radio.
Another example of this flip flop attitude is when NATO began bombing
Libya; suddenly it seemed that all of Mali had begun hating Obama
vehemently over night. Suddenly, even my most educated friends, were
telling me how terrible it was that ‘Obama killed Gaddafi with his own
two hands. What nerve!’ In one situation with close friends I
offered a counter argument to this statement only to feel the mood
going in the wrong direction and had to change the subject.
The whole situation is very sad though. There will soon be a severe
food shortage in my village. If rains aren’t sufficient this year,
the problem will become very serious. If all the aid pulls out, these
people will be left with no help to get them to the next year. The
education system was already suffering and I am sure that the military
government does not have education at the top of its list of
priorities, especially when funding runs low. Currently in Bamako,
everyone is pulling their money out of the bank near where I am right
now and the Air France and Air Brussels airline offices around the
corner are over flowing with Malians trying to get out. The already
struggling tourism industry will be finished. Projects in our Peace
Corps villages are on hold until we can hopefully go back. There are
Touraegs fleeing the north, 200,000 already in fear of ethnic
conflict. The homes of some Touraegs were burned in the city of Kati,
45 minutes north of Bamako. With the upcoming famine, things just
couldn’t be worse. The situation is unfortunate to say the least.
On a lighter note, a lot has been going on in village. Jon Markle
donated funds to do a child nutrition program in my village. With the
money, we created a program to put emphasis on vitamins and
preventative care as a complimentary program to the clinics core
function. Through vitamin enrichment and village baby weighing we
will improve the diet of women and children and educate them on the
importance of a complete and balanced diet. With this donation we
purchased mosquito nets, de worming medicine, prenatal vitamins, and
children’s vitamin supplements to work hand in hand with our
complimentary education program. We completed a ten day HEARTH
nutrition program with ten mothers and their 2 year old malnourished
children. My mom and her two friends came to visit to help and we had
a great time. The HEARTH program was first introduced to Peace Corps
health volunteers a few years ago in Guinea which has since gained
credibility and popularity. HEARTH is a community based program
designed for small groups of ten mothers and their malnourished child
to promote nutritional rehabilitation and behavior change. HEARTH
brings together a group of women to be lead in discussion by mothers
with healthy, successful habits including but not limited to birth
spacing, hand washing, and vaccinations despite the difficulties. The
objectives are to rehabilitate these ten malnourished children by
cooking ameliorated porridge daily, to educate mothers on basic health
issues, and to demonstrate through the ‘role model’ mother what is
possible even in village with limited means. We selected participants
during a regular baby weighing, and then had a meeting with all the
village leaders to formally invite the women into the program and make
sure that they understood the time commitment.
We also recently received a donation of over $90,000 worth of lightly
used medical equipment from the US Military, Department of Defense.
The doctor is so excited and had just begun outfitting our clinic with
the new goods when I left village on Monday. He also plans to build
another building next to the clinic to include a pharmacy, male
recovery room, and well lit operation room. He recently did a hernia
surgery with a flash light. The goods include new beds, mattresses,
surgical gowns, wound dressing, IV kits, exam tables, and desks. It
is truly a blessing and I owe many thanks to Greg and the US embassy
for securing this donation. I haven’t gotten to take pictures of the
goods yet but will first thing when (hopefully) I get back to village.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Moms Visits!
On February 22, my mom, Lu goodall, and Debbie Blackshear came to visit!! After planning this trip since around November, it was incredible to finally see them get off the airplane and emerge from Bamako’s little airport, and amazingly with all their bags in tow. It was such a great reunion. We went back to the sleeping camel hotel run by these British guys for pizza and beer and to catch up a little. We had a big 12 days ahead of us, full of Malian bush food and potential parasite infections so the time to eat and drink is always now. Ironically enough they had met some other Peace Corps volunteers on the flight and people from my Peace Corps office were even at the airport waiting to pick up other new kids. Small ex-pat world. We went to our room with a working ac unit; they opened some of their presents, which at this point consisted of goat skin body back packs for the husbands. The Malian love these back packs and they are used for everything from getting water from the well to cross desert expeditions- they chop off a goats head, skin it, sew up the holes, turn the skin inside out, braid the legs together, and then you have a nice back pack. The top is the neck hole. Trendy! Ps- my American friends Lu and Debbie, I am writing this from my hut while savoring one of my precious cans of meat ball spagettios.
The next morning we got up and had a nice brunch while we waited for out hired 4x4 to arrive and take us to the grocery store and then to site. He threw a minor hissy fit when he saw how much stuff we had but thankfully, due to many problems from him like missing gas money, he was fired. We had lots of coffee and final showers, final looks in the last mirror they would see for ten days, and then off we went. We arrived at my village in the early afternoon and had time to unpack, organize, and then do a walk around the village to alert the ladies that in the evening, there would be a meeting for the 10 ladies participating in the HEARTH child nutrition program. The meeting was really fun, and everyone actually came. This one lady even brought this super cute puppy that she knows I love. He came to most of the sessions as well; I figure it’s a good way to teach them about how to treat animals.
The next morning, after our first night sleeping out in the bush, I got up early to run some errands and then everyone else got up and we made coffee, sandwiches, and bought beans for the ladies to eat with their coffee when they got to my house. The first morning we had hearth at this communal place in village but that was no fun, not personal at all. So from then on we had it at my house. I think it would have been a good idea to rotate houses from participant to participant to encourage the woman to clean up and do everything like washing hands correctly on her own turf but it was so nice doing it in my own yard… I was really surprised after the first 2 days how well it was going. The women were showing up, paying attention, and using the time to relax, drink the coffee we made them each morning, and gossip. The added bonus of having my mom, Lu, and Debbie there definitely kept them coming back as well. Especially once my crazy old lady Fune started coming over and leading these hilarious dance sessions; that spectacle definitely kept them coming back. The mornings overall were really great- the project was a success and would not have been nearly as fun or successful if my mom, lu, and Debbie hadn’t been there to liven the mood! They even made them adorable little present packages when the program was over to give to each woman.
Quite possibly my favorite part of the day though was the Gatorade happy hours that would have sometimes twice a day. We would set up our chairs in the shade, fill my pitcher with water and add Gatorade mix, and then bring out these 4 little cute cups that my mom brought from a picnic set. Then we would sit around and tell stories about old boyfriends, they would give me advice on things and reassure me that I haven’t gone crazy out here, and talk about their kids lives too. Then in the evenings we would have gin and tonic or anything from the assortment of drinks that we brought; my is American liquor easy to drink compared to the stuff they make here.
No two days were the same though. We ate incredibly well, painted murals, painted hundreds of nails, played with puppies and babies, lu did the Malian woman sexy dance; had quite the vacation. Just like sex and city after all!
Then we went into Bamako in quite a rush to have lunch with my friends Anderson and Ryan, a cocktail cruise on Rebecca’s boat, an art show at the embassies house (cough cough mom jaja), and then dinner at a nice Indian place where none of us could come even close to finishing our plates. The next morning we had brunch with my friend pierce, then went to the artist market and then to the big Malian market where we scrutinized fabric and I butchered my Bambara real bad, due to the heat… ha then we went home, had a giant late lunch at the sleeping camel, showered, and went to dinner for them to meet Cary! At yet another pizza place. Man people must think all I do is eat pizza and drink beer. Then we took them to the airport… all a whirlwind but that’s the sign of a good vacation. Going back to site without them was terrible so I ran away to Anderson’s house for a week before I built up the courage to come back and face the bush life alone once again. 3 more months…. Nothing to worry about.
The next morning we got up and had a nice brunch while we waited for out hired 4x4 to arrive and take us to the grocery store and then to site. He threw a minor hissy fit when he saw how much stuff we had but thankfully, due to many problems from him like missing gas money, he was fired. We had lots of coffee and final showers, final looks in the last mirror they would see for ten days, and then off we went. We arrived at my village in the early afternoon and had time to unpack, organize, and then do a walk around the village to alert the ladies that in the evening, there would be a meeting for the 10 ladies participating in the HEARTH child nutrition program. The meeting was really fun, and everyone actually came. This one lady even brought this super cute puppy that she knows I love. He came to most of the sessions as well; I figure it’s a good way to teach them about how to treat animals.
The next morning, after our first night sleeping out in the bush, I got up early to run some errands and then everyone else got up and we made coffee, sandwiches, and bought beans for the ladies to eat with their coffee when they got to my house. The first morning we had hearth at this communal place in village but that was no fun, not personal at all. So from then on we had it at my house. I think it would have been a good idea to rotate houses from participant to participant to encourage the woman to clean up and do everything like washing hands correctly on her own turf but it was so nice doing it in my own yard… I was really surprised after the first 2 days how well it was going. The women were showing up, paying attention, and using the time to relax, drink the coffee we made them each morning, and gossip. The added bonus of having my mom, Lu, and Debbie there definitely kept them coming back as well. Especially once my crazy old lady Fune started coming over and leading these hilarious dance sessions; that spectacle definitely kept them coming back. The mornings overall were really great- the project was a success and would not have been nearly as fun or successful if my mom, lu, and Debbie hadn’t been there to liven the mood! They even made them adorable little present packages when the program was over to give to each woman.
Quite possibly my favorite part of the day though was the Gatorade happy hours that would have sometimes twice a day. We would set up our chairs in the shade, fill my pitcher with water and add Gatorade mix, and then bring out these 4 little cute cups that my mom brought from a picnic set. Then we would sit around and tell stories about old boyfriends, they would give me advice on things and reassure me that I haven’t gone crazy out here, and talk about their kids lives too. Then in the evenings we would have gin and tonic or anything from the assortment of drinks that we brought; my is American liquor easy to drink compared to the stuff they make here.
No two days were the same though. We ate incredibly well, painted murals, painted hundreds of nails, played with puppies and babies, lu did the Malian woman sexy dance; had quite the vacation. Just like sex and city after all!
Then we went into Bamako in quite a rush to have lunch with my friends Anderson and Ryan, a cocktail cruise on Rebecca’s boat, an art show at the embassies house (cough cough mom jaja), and then dinner at a nice Indian place where none of us could come even close to finishing our plates. The next morning we had brunch with my friend pierce, then went to the artist market and then to the big Malian market where we scrutinized fabric and I butchered my Bambara real bad, due to the heat… ha then we went home, had a giant late lunch at the sleeping camel, showered, and went to dinner for them to meet Cary! At yet another pizza place. Man people must think all I do is eat pizza and drink beer. Then we took them to the airport… all a whirlwind but that’s the sign of a good vacation. Going back to site without them was terrible so I ran away to Anderson’s house for a week before I built up the courage to come back and face the bush life alone once again. 3 more months…. Nothing to worry about.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Obama killed Gaddafi with his OWN TWO HANDS!!!
The other day I was sitting having lunch with my friend Bartoma in my market town. She is Christian, her real name is Suzanne, but she changed it so that the people she works with would remember it better. She is a retired doctor and now is a village health worker for an NGO. Her family lives in Bamako where her husband is a professor but she is currently on contract out here, so she visits her family on some weekends and holidays. She has an intern of sorts, a Malian guy currently at university studying anthropology. But since the university is on strike, he works with her mostly. The other day they asked me if I like Obama. This question is normal in Mali; I probably get asked it at least once every time I meet someone new because everyone loves him so much here. I said well sure, I like him. And then I changed the subject to our upcoming elections. He interrupted and said “no, Obama is a bad guy. No one likes him anymore because he killed Gaddafi.” I thought he was joking, or at least still just making casual conversation; I know him pretty well. But he kept going, asking why Obama would do such a thing; kill Gaddafi with his own hands after all Gaddafi has done for his people. I was stunned, this can’t be real; I stated some general facts and figures that I thought were common knowledge about the corruption and murderous ways of Gaddafi and his family. The conversation became awkward though, and I could tell that this was no light matter to my friends- so I had to drop it and quickly change the subject. But it just goes to show how well propaganda works against even the most educated people in a terribly poor country that depended upon Gaddafi for so long.
Magical Bullets
I just finished a really good book called the ‘glass palace’. Among other things, it is about the way countries under colonial rule were used by the ruling country during international conflicts. In this story, the British used Burmese and Indian men as ‘bat men’, what I think is similar to a servant to a man in combat. Gets bullets, retrieves the man if he is wounded; puts his own life on the line for his master. So I asked Fode if Mali played a role in WW2. He said that France had come here to collect men to go to battle. Village by village, they would collect ten or so from each one. Fode said that few wanted to go, and the women were always left crying and screaming. All the men from my village came back alive though, some missing limbs but they all made it back. They are all dead now but Fode said h used to go to talk to them a lot about stories from their time abroad. He says that the men all survived because they were all blessed by the village witch doctor before going, which made them indestructible. Bullets could not penetrate their skin. Bombs wouldn’t throw them to the ground. This is why men lived. I said well actually that may not be the case Fode, many men did die and bullets can always pierce a man. But Fodes belief in witch magic, his and every other person in my village it seems, attribute their home coming to the magic of the witch doctor. It’s funny how different his version of history is from that of a child educated in the United States. I can’t remember the details now but the reasons behind WW2, according to Fode, are pretty funny. The death of the 6 million Jewish people made Fode pretty upset, as if he were hearing it for the first time. It reminds me of the Peace Corps volunteer who told his friend about September 11th, and the Malian cried.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Malian Business Strategy
For Tabaski, the Muslim holiday, my friend invited a woman over to the stage house who could do henna, nails, fake eye lashes and that sort of thing. She was in her early twenties and really sweet. She came over at 9 to just do my friend Paula but as everyone else in the stage house woke up, one by one all the other girls signed up in a list to have henna and things done as well. She did mine, did an awesome job and charged $3. She ended up staying till 9 that night and even came back the next night to do hair. She said it was the best day she had had in a while and felt more respected than she could remember. Turns out, that Paula had run into her in a salon originally, where this woman worked. Paula really liked the job that she did so she asked for this woman’s phone number so that she could do house calls. After Paula left, all the other ladies in the salon got really angry because she had received special attention for the job that they all do. Their jealousy caused this girl to have to leave the salon because the other girls were being so mean. I have seen this many times in Malian business strategy and everyday life- Malian culture seems to crush individualism and individual drive to such a point that no one can succeed. Or if you do manage to succeed alone, you end up having to western union money transfer your income to other family member and tons will move in with you as well. Another example is that in my village, we have 5 boutiques. They all sell the exact same thing. All at the exact same price. And are all within 100 meters of each other. Why not lower ones price, have sales, buy varied merchandise? It makes no sense. They say they don’t want to lower their process because it will hurt the others. Sweet but illogical.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
time is going too fast!
This blog post will be a compilation of stories as opposed to a fluid essay. I have been at site a month now and will go into Bamako Wednesday, October 4th… can’t wait! I’ll stay that night at my friends Greg and Rebecca, they are a married ex-pat couple and I met Greg through Peace Corps because he wanted to sponsor a maternity clinic. He did Peace Corps Mali in the 70’s, he was the second group that dame in. A group of two men… very different from the Peace Corps that I know now. Rebecca works for USAID. They have lived all over the world, really great people. They have a beautiful house stocked with food from Costco and comfortable furniture and showers, I cannot wait. Then Wednesday Cary gets in town, so we will have a few days together before he leaves for a vacation in London on Friday night. Then Anderson comes in for a low key birthday on the eight- his real party is on the 15th but I don’t blame him for not wanting to spend it at site. So that will be fun, small group dinner and drinks and then back to site Sunday. October is a crazy month though, especially compared to this one where I was at site the entire time. Saving money! Once I hit my savings goal, I am going to get the 20 dollar brunch at the Radisson hotel. But anyways October 15th I'll be back into Bamako for Andersons real birthday party, joint with my friend Beth’s who also went to Elon strangely enough. Then back into Bamako the 22nd for Cary’s return and maybe back to my site for a few days with him, or we might go to SIBY, this beautiful ‘suburb’ of Bamako with great climbing, hiking, waterfalls, and relatively touristy standard activities minus the annoyance of big dirty crowded Bamako. Then Halloween in Bougouni, a small town two hours outside of Bamako where it has been decided that the party will be. Then site, Seliba (a giant festival) is November seventh, then thanksgiving in Sikasso. Sikasso is in the south, practically in Cote d’Ivoire, and it has fruit and greenery and waterfalls. Thanksgiving there is an annual thing, with a week of activities. I couldn’t go last year so I am really excited for this year. Even my teacher at site was like, ‘oh, you’re going to Sikasso in November right? Everyone does it. Teneba and Djeneba went too. SO fun!’ Teneba and Djeneba, or Lindsey and Becky, were the volunteers before me. Then off to London on December 19th for a few weeks. So the next few months will fly by, for better or for worse.
But anyways, below are the stories from things that have happened recently that I have no written about. I hope it doesn’t seem like I only write about sad things- there are more happy times than sad for sure. Like the afternoons that I spend watching mad men on my computer with my host sisters and host mom, who just sleeps with two or three babies on her lap. Or my new hobby of taking kids heights on the door frames of their house- they love it. Could be a good way to get kids to eat well to get taller.
One thing that I have been noticing around here is that a lot of people have large, raised, scars on the center of their breast bone. 2 inches square, sometimes bigger, but the part that is so strange is that they are so raised. It is obvious that it was not accidental. Not everyone has these. I can’t find a pattern in age or location, so it must just be some villages and then in Bamako it gets all mixed up, or when someone marries into another village. But turns out that the scar was to prevent tuberculosis. I wonder what happened when the person died regardless. Scarification has many roles in Mali but this is not the only example of when it is used to prevent or treat disease. For example, the other day I went to my homologues house and her second wife’s new baby had three razor cuts on his forehead. I asked why and she said that it was because he had a head ache. And she is a supposed village health worker. The best part is that she paid for this treatment. People here justify paying for a lot of seemingly ridiculous things- the amount of money that my host father makes spitting and rubbing peoples stomachs is absurd. And more absurd is the distance at which people travel to see him, in directions opposite that of the hospital. But death is never analyzed; it is all gods’ will.
Back in late august was the end of Ramadan festival, Seli Ni. On this day everyone makes a lot of food, but not too much because this is the ‘hungry season’. People only grow enough food for maybe 6-9 months of the year, so the other months, people or borrowing or depending on relatives and finding any work they can to try to find ways to get food. Harvest is beginning now though so I guess things will be good for a little while. Why they haven’t evolved their ways is beyond me. It all comes down to not enough money, but that doesn’t explain the cigarettes and tea. The women are so much smarter than the men (the majority). Women stretch every cent and invest in the family. Men show off to their friends with cell phone music. I have read it in reports before and now I see it’s true. But anyways, the purpose of this story was to tell about some girl time that I was spending at my homologues house with other older ladies. Maybe 30s and 40s. Few teeth, many babies. We were sitting around and then my favorite old lady comes by and makes a grab at my boob, massaging it, and starts telling all the ladies that now that Ramadan is over and people can have sex again, that my husband is going to give me tons and tons of babies and so she is going to help ‘get me ready’. It was really funny.
A few weeks ago I went to a 3 day formation at the mayor’s office put on by a Malian NGO about female circumcision. They had two females and two males from 6 villages around my market town. I was pretty excited, I thought that the meetings would really motivate the Malians present to go back to village and talk about what they learned. These were, after all, selected people from each village who supposedly really wanted to be there. Then I found out that we each got ten dollars for being there, which explains a lot. But the meeting turned out to be a stunning waste of opportunity. No one cared. There are so many ways which they could have given the people present a plan of action, a speech to read, shocking facts; but everyone left as bored as they came. Peace corps tells us not to get involved with this issue because the Malian government said that the change had t some from Malians. This they have right. But it’s not just Malians, it has to come from the village people itself, and so far nothing has worked. I know they stopped doing it in my friend’s village after thirty girls died in one year from it. They were all circumcised together in December, as tradition follows. But that night I was shelling peanuts with my neighbor Nantene and asked her about it. She said that she knows that it is really bad, that there is no point, and that it is really painful. I wanted to ask if she would subject her daughters to it but I know it isn’t her choice, it’s her old bipolar mother in laws choice. It doesn’t look promising. The only good thing is that the woman who does the cutting is really old, so maybe when she dies no one will pick it up. But she makes good money so I am sure someone will seize the job. I’ll have to ask.
A few nights ago we have one of our village dance parties at the ‘dancing place’. They bring in massive speakers, a generator, lights, chairs, and tons and tons of people come from the surrounding smaller villages. Always cracks me up when I remember that my village is a sort of commercial capital. But all ages come, little kids dance early and then slowly teenagers and unmarried men come, and then the married women with their babies might come see but it is really only for single people. It never occurred to me that the people at these parties were looking to meet other people to have sex with; I always just thought they were flirting and dancing. But I was walking home to get my camera and a boy, maybe 15, stops me and asking if he can ask me a question. He was very polite and asked me if I had any condoms. I Sid no but said that the boutique did. I told him that if he gave me money that I would go buy them. He got embarrassed and said that he would find me later. So I bought a ton of condoms at eh store and then told Fode hat had happened and asked if he thought it was ok for me to kind of hand them out at random to boys, in an un-noticeable manner. He said sure. So I stood outside and watched some boys flirting with some girls and when the girls left and it was just the two boys, I said that I was a doctor working in this town and asked if they wanted free condoms. I didn’t realize that these boys weren’t from my village and therefore didn’t know me, and I didn’t know them. It went poorly, they were stuck up teenage boys, and I wasn’t sure if they were messing with me or not when they said that they didn’t know how to use them. So I told them to ask their friends and left quickly in search of Fode because I didn’t like the tone they had. They were telling me that condoms aren’t for Africans and started pestering me about getting my phone number so I said my husband was waiting. I told Fode and asked if he could hand them out, and he said sure again. I watched him for a minute before I left and he was really good- he knows everyone and everyone knows him, and people apparently ask him for them all the time so he was perfect for the job. Before the next dance party I’ll have to give condoms to my friends and tell them to tell their friends to buy them from Fode. Seems word is spreading because the day after I was trying to find my friend who sells beans and one of her friends asked me to step into her house. I thought that was weird and figured she was going to ask me to look at a sick kid, but she asked where she could get the birth control shot. So that was good. I told her to go to the doctor’s office so I hope she goes. She wanted me to give it to her; I hope she isn’t too scared or embarrassed to ask the doctor.
Fodes mom boils these leaves every night and I asked her what they were and she said medicine. Then the other night I asked her again and Fodes wife explained that it is to keep the Jellies away- the ghost type fairy things. Thought that was funny. Some old people get really scared when they see white people for the first time because they think that we are jellies. There is a lady in Cary’s town who drops what she’s doing and runs away screaming every time she sees him.
The other night Nakoya, Fodes wife, all the sudden got really excited. It was pitch black, no moon, and after dinner quit, chatting time. She had just bathed and was wearing her towel thing when she ran over, grabbed a plastic bag and was jumping around until she triumphantly yelled, ‘I got it!!!’ She had caught this giant gross bug and was in the process of ripping off its legs so that she could give it to her yen year old boy so that he could roast it and eat because they are ‘soooo gooood”. The set him on a piece of plastic next to me and went to get dressed and find Mohamadou. I was concerned about the bugs close proximity to my chair so a few minutes later I told Fode that we should move him. He turned on the flash light and the giant legless bug was gone. Bummer. Disappointment to all Fode and his family.
One of my favorite men in village is Mansa. He is humble, quiet, gives me guinea fowl eggs all the times, and is just really genuine. Especially compared to all the people who treat me strange or just see me as money. But he is really great so the other day when I ran into him and he told me that his one year old daughter was sick with a fever, I knew that he was serious and not just trying to get free medicine. And it was refreshing to hear the truth, something other than ‘I'm fine’. So that afternoon I walked over and saw his little one year old daughter. She didn’t look bad so I was relieved but decided to offer to pay for her medical care anyways. This is big no no in Peace Corps, but this was a special case and I love this family. She wasn’t skinny or anything, just feverish. I have seen way worse. She was a little bleary eyed but again, I had seen worse. Then I looked over at his little son, maybe 3 or4, and asked why he looked so uncomfortable. I lifted the sheet off his leg and saw that 75% of his leg to his waist was raw burnt skin. Turns out that the day before some kids were in the kitchen getting warm after a bath and the boiling water spilled on him where he was sitting. But again, there was no money, and he had rubbed dirt and some sort of African medicine all over it, making it green and scaly. So we took both kids to the doctor. I don’t know why he didn’t even mention the burn victim. The doctor came and cleaned and dressed the little boys leg, he will be fine if it doesn’t get infected and if he eats and drinks fluids even though h is in pain. He looks skinnier, I saw him yesterday… but the leg is healing so I hope it turns out ok. The girl got some syrup for the malaria and had a shot- cloroquine I am guessing. Our malaria is quinine resistant. The next day we went for more shots for her, morning and night, and the little boy went every other day. Then I got an intestinal infection and was house bound for a few days while the cipro kicked in. But I only missed one day of visits with Mansa and his little girl. So when I was walking there in the evening and passed by the doctors mom on the road, I said where I was going and she gave me a dead person blessing- turns out the little girl had died, the malaria had gone cerebral. They had just buried her by the house. So I went to the doctor and asked if this was true, it was, just malaria. Not unusual in the least. He was angry that Mansa had waited, angry that he had assumed that since he had no money that he couldn’t talk to the doctor. So I went to Mansa, gave him so blessing, checked on the burn victim. I was crying and it was awkward so I left. Malians women have a weird way of smiling sometimes when they are sad, so I left. Mansa was visibly distraught and as I was walking away yelled, ‘don’t cry Awa!’ So I went to the fields for a little to relax before dinner with Fode. We are so lucky that we have a doctor and a maternity clinic- while it is barely anything, I can’t imagine how much worse it is in the other villages around us, 8, 9, 10 kilometers away from even our little clinic.
But anyways, below are the stories from things that have happened recently that I have no written about. I hope it doesn’t seem like I only write about sad things- there are more happy times than sad for sure. Like the afternoons that I spend watching mad men on my computer with my host sisters and host mom, who just sleeps with two or three babies on her lap. Or my new hobby of taking kids heights on the door frames of their house- they love it. Could be a good way to get kids to eat well to get taller.
One thing that I have been noticing around here is that a lot of people have large, raised, scars on the center of their breast bone. 2 inches square, sometimes bigger, but the part that is so strange is that they are so raised. It is obvious that it was not accidental. Not everyone has these. I can’t find a pattern in age or location, so it must just be some villages and then in Bamako it gets all mixed up, or when someone marries into another village. But turns out that the scar was to prevent tuberculosis. I wonder what happened when the person died regardless. Scarification has many roles in Mali but this is not the only example of when it is used to prevent or treat disease. For example, the other day I went to my homologues house and her second wife’s new baby had three razor cuts on his forehead. I asked why and she said that it was because he had a head ache. And she is a supposed village health worker. The best part is that she paid for this treatment. People here justify paying for a lot of seemingly ridiculous things- the amount of money that my host father makes spitting and rubbing peoples stomachs is absurd. And more absurd is the distance at which people travel to see him, in directions opposite that of the hospital. But death is never analyzed; it is all gods’ will.
Back in late august was the end of Ramadan festival, Seli Ni. On this day everyone makes a lot of food, but not too much because this is the ‘hungry season’. People only grow enough food for maybe 6-9 months of the year, so the other months, people or borrowing or depending on relatives and finding any work they can to try to find ways to get food. Harvest is beginning now though so I guess things will be good for a little while. Why they haven’t evolved their ways is beyond me. It all comes down to not enough money, but that doesn’t explain the cigarettes and tea. The women are so much smarter than the men (the majority). Women stretch every cent and invest in the family. Men show off to their friends with cell phone music. I have read it in reports before and now I see it’s true. But anyways, the purpose of this story was to tell about some girl time that I was spending at my homologues house with other older ladies. Maybe 30s and 40s. Few teeth, many babies. We were sitting around and then my favorite old lady comes by and makes a grab at my boob, massaging it, and starts telling all the ladies that now that Ramadan is over and people can have sex again, that my husband is going to give me tons and tons of babies and so she is going to help ‘get me ready’. It was really funny.
A few weeks ago I went to a 3 day formation at the mayor’s office put on by a Malian NGO about female circumcision. They had two females and two males from 6 villages around my market town. I was pretty excited, I thought that the meetings would really motivate the Malians present to go back to village and talk about what they learned. These were, after all, selected people from each village who supposedly really wanted to be there. Then I found out that we each got ten dollars for being there, which explains a lot. But the meeting turned out to be a stunning waste of opportunity. No one cared. There are so many ways which they could have given the people present a plan of action, a speech to read, shocking facts; but everyone left as bored as they came. Peace corps tells us not to get involved with this issue because the Malian government said that the change had t some from Malians. This they have right. But it’s not just Malians, it has to come from the village people itself, and so far nothing has worked. I know they stopped doing it in my friend’s village after thirty girls died in one year from it. They were all circumcised together in December, as tradition follows. But that night I was shelling peanuts with my neighbor Nantene and asked her about it. She said that she knows that it is really bad, that there is no point, and that it is really painful. I wanted to ask if she would subject her daughters to it but I know it isn’t her choice, it’s her old bipolar mother in laws choice. It doesn’t look promising. The only good thing is that the woman who does the cutting is really old, so maybe when she dies no one will pick it up. But she makes good money so I am sure someone will seize the job. I’ll have to ask.
A few nights ago we have one of our village dance parties at the ‘dancing place’. They bring in massive speakers, a generator, lights, chairs, and tons and tons of people come from the surrounding smaller villages. Always cracks me up when I remember that my village is a sort of commercial capital. But all ages come, little kids dance early and then slowly teenagers and unmarried men come, and then the married women with their babies might come see but it is really only for single people. It never occurred to me that the people at these parties were looking to meet other people to have sex with; I always just thought they were flirting and dancing. But I was walking home to get my camera and a boy, maybe 15, stops me and asking if he can ask me a question. He was very polite and asked me if I had any condoms. I Sid no but said that the boutique did. I told him that if he gave me money that I would go buy them. He got embarrassed and said that he would find me later. So I bought a ton of condoms at eh store and then told Fode hat had happened and asked if he thought it was ok for me to kind of hand them out at random to boys, in an un-noticeable manner. He said sure. So I stood outside and watched some boys flirting with some girls and when the girls left and it was just the two boys, I said that I was a doctor working in this town and asked if they wanted free condoms. I didn’t realize that these boys weren’t from my village and therefore didn’t know me, and I didn’t know them. It went poorly, they were stuck up teenage boys, and I wasn’t sure if they were messing with me or not when they said that they didn’t know how to use them. So I told them to ask their friends and left quickly in search of Fode because I didn’t like the tone they had. They were telling me that condoms aren’t for Africans and started pestering me about getting my phone number so I said my husband was waiting. I told Fode and asked if he could hand them out, and he said sure again. I watched him for a minute before I left and he was really good- he knows everyone and everyone knows him, and people apparently ask him for them all the time so he was perfect for the job. Before the next dance party I’ll have to give condoms to my friends and tell them to tell their friends to buy them from Fode. Seems word is spreading because the day after I was trying to find my friend who sells beans and one of her friends asked me to step into her house. I thought that was weird and figured she was going to ask me to look at a sick kid, but she asked where she could get the birth control shot. So that was good. I told her to go to the doctor’s office so I hope she goes. She wanted me to give it to her; I hope she isn’t too scared or embarrassed to ask the doctor.
Fodes mom boils these leaves every night and I asked her what they were and she said medicine. Then the other night I asked her again and Fodes wife explained that it is to keep the Jellies away- the ghost type fairy things. Thought that was funny. Some old people get really scared when they see white people for the first time because they think that we are jellies. There is a lady in Cary’s town who drops what she’s doing and runs away screaming every time she sees him.
The other night Nakoya, Fodes wife, all the sudden got really excited. It was pitch black, no moon, and after dinner quit, chatting time. She had just bathed and was wearing her towel thing when she ran over, grabbed a plastic bag and was jumping around until she triumphantly yelled, ‘I got it!!!’ She had caught this giant gross bug and was in the process of ripping off its legs so that she could give it to her yen year old boy so that he could roast it and eat because they are ‘soooo gooood”. The set him on a piece of plastic next to me and went to get dressed and find Mohamadou. I was concerned about the bugs close proximity to my chair so a few minutes later I told Fode that we should move him. He turned on the flash light and the giant legless bug was gone. Bummer. Disappointment to all Fode and his family.
One of my favorite men in village is Mansa. He is humble, quiet, gives me guinea fowl eggs all the times, and is just really genuine. Especially compared to all the people who treat me strange or just see me as money. But he is really great so the other day when I ran into him and he told me that his one year old daughter was sick with a fever, I knew that he was serious and not just trying to get free medicine. And it was refreshing to hear the truth, something other than ‘I'm fine’. So that afternoon I walked over and saw his little one year old daughter. She didn’t look bad so I was relieved but decided to offer to pay for her medical care anyways. This is big no no in Peace Corps, but this was a special case and I love this family. She wasn’t skinny or anything, just feverish. I have seen way worse. She was a little bleary eyed but again, I had seen worse. Then I looked over at his little son, maybe 3 or4, and asked why he looked so uncomfortable. I lifted the sheet off his leg and saw that 75% of his leg to his waist was raw burnt skin. Turns out that the day before some kids were in the kitchen getting warm after a bath and the boiling water spilled on him where he was sitting. But again, there was no money, and he had rubbed dirt and some sort of African medicine all over it, making it green and scaly. So we took both kids to the doctor. I don’t know why he didn’t even mention the burn victim. The doctor came and cleaned and dressed the little boys leg, he will be fine if it doesn’t get infected and if he eats and drinks fluids even though h is in pain. He looks skinnier, I saw him yesterday… but the leg is healing so I hope it turns out ok. The girl got some syrup for the malaria and had a shot- cloroquine I am guessing. Our malaria is quinine resistant. The next day we went for more shots for her, morning and night, and the little boy went every other day. Then I got an intestinal infection and was house bound for a few days while the cipro kicked in. But I only missed one day of visits with Mansa and his little girl. So when I was walking there in the evening and passed by the doctors mom on the road, I said where I was going and she gave me a dead person blessing- turns out the little girl had died, the malaria had gone cerebral. They had just buried her by the house. So I went to the doctor and asked if this was true, it was, just malaria. Not unusual in the least. He was angry that Mansa had waited, angry that he had assumed that since he had no money that he couldn’t talk to the doctor. So I went to Mansa, gave him so blessing, checked on the burn victim. I was crying and it was awkward so I left. Malians women have a weird way of smiling sometimes when they are sad, so I left. Mansa was visibly distraught and as I was walking away yelled, ‘don’t cry Awa!’ So I went to the fields for a little to relax before dinner with Fode. We are so lucky that we have a doctor and a maternity clinic- while it is barely anything, I can’t imagine how much worse it is in the other villages around us, 8, 9, 10 kilometers away from even our little clinic.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Getting down to business.
Things at site are going well right now. As usual, it’s awesome on one front and pretty poor on another. My new birth spacing education campaign is going very well. It’s not at a point of perfection yet where I can mass produce it but it will be soon. I need to go to Bamako and get the HIV/AIDS Tool Kit. This kit includes props and demonstration materials. We have been putting condoms on flashlight sand not only is that confusing, it’s hard to explain everything fully in Bambara without using inappropriate sign language so I really need those props and some translated materials. My plan so far has just been talking to my friends casually and this has held good results. It also usually draws a small crowd. I need to HIV/AIDS Tool Kit though before I can talk to the teenage boys who live next door to me and play cards outside my house every evening. They are a really fun bunch that help me do soak pit work sometimes and we joke about their girl friends, and I know that they each have at least one. Normally this is secret but that the glory of being an American- I am a third party that I guess they don’t feel too weird talking to. Especially since they are only a few years younger than me and they have seen my boy friend come visit too. Though to my village, he’s my husband.
I know that results are going well though because not only have women asked me for condoms, I have had women get the shot and one women waited at my house for me one day while I was at the market so she could ask me about it. She had heard through the grape vine and she wanted to hear my speech about the benefits of birth spacing. So that was really exciting. My plan is to go door to door basically since scheduling a meeting rarely happens. I will just find the women sitting around working together and talk to them there and the same for the men. And then for those who I can, I think it would be nice to talk to both the man and the woman together as a couple and talk about their plan for the future and children.
The soak pit project is not done yet and I am really lacking motivation. People want it but they just aren’t willing to work for it, not quickly or efficiently. I just want it done. We are so close but there are a lot of people who are still short rocks or this and that and they are never home and when they say they will do t, I feel like it never actually happens. Even when the rocks are in a giant pile next to our unfinished mosque.
I know that results are going well though because not only have women asked me for condoms, I have had women get the shot and one women waited at my house for me one day while I was at the market so she could ask me about it. She had heard through the grape vine and she wanted to hear my speech about the benefits of birth spacing. So that was really exciting. My plan is to go door to door basically since scheduling a meeting rarely happens. I will just find the women sitting around working together and talk to them there and the same for the men. And then for those who I can, I think it would be nice to talk to both the man and the woman together as a couple and talk about their plan for the future and children.
The soak pit project is not done yet and I am really lacking motivation. People want it but they just aren’t willing to work for it, not quickly or efficiently. I just want it done. We are so close but there are a lot of people who are still short rocks or this and that and they are never home and when they say they will do t, I feel like it never actually happens. Even when the rocks are in a giant pile next to our unfinished mosque.
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