Desert Sunrise

Where the wild things are
Dad- this is for you- Fode: "Do yewwwww knowwww Pheeeeeel Cooooleeeens?" hahahaahha

Excuse the confusion but I have decided to begin this post with the end- because last night was too priceless and I am worried that the rest of the post is too boring and the people may just miss out on this gem. So last night was Friday and it was the last day of this seliba party. Little did I know, seliba was not only Wednesday but more of a party that lasted an entire week. With all the old friends, students, and family that came in from Bamako, they had soccer tournaments and dance parties and all kinds of events every day. I missed the soccer championship which I am bummed about… there definitely would have been some good pictures too. Though I did not take any pictures last night at the dance party… they would have been awesome. But so I get to Fodes house at dinner time wearing pants and a boring shirt because I had been working around my house and yard all day. His daughters were like ‘we are going dancing tonight! You’re wearing that?! We can’t take you anywhere!’ or at least this is what I imagine they said, so I went home and changed into a full Malian outfit, the one I had made for the swear in ceremony. When I left my hut all my neighbor friends gathered around to see, who knew I could go from so masculine to so feminine in 30 seconds. They all laughed at me but I could tell my host sister is now coveting my outfit. So then I went back over to Fodes house which took forever because everyone had something to say about my new outfit and the fact that I am now a Malian woman. What I have always wanted to be! But then we eat dinner, moseyed around, my friends change into western clothes so now I am the only one in full Malian wear… and then at around 8 one of my friends with a baby tied to her back says that we are going dancing, right now. So I left dinner and she and I went to the ‘donke yoro’, which literally means dancing place, and we joined this giant circle of girls aged 7 to 25, half of which had babies strapped on like back packs. I tried to make my friend give me her baby but she wouldn’t… I think she was laughing too hard at everything else going on. So we are dancing, I look up and everyone else on this dancing stage is doing some sort of synchronized dance except for me… so I tried to join in, and then I look at the DJ and he is laughing at me, and breaks into the music on his microphone “OUAIS!! COMME CA!! It’s like that!! YOU CAN DO IT!!” I almost died. I was already laughing hysterically to myself just because the whole thing was so funny, and I think I may have scared the posse of 5 year olds gathered around taking turns touching me and then running away, but it was a sight to be seen, let me tell you. So then the little girls dancing around me seemed to be getting annoyed at always stepping on my heals and vice versa as I tried desperately to not stand out too much, and my friend and I left the circle and danced on the edge of the stage for a little while, much to the amusement of my other friends standing around chatting… “Dear god, pretend we don’t know her!” that’s what I imagine they were thinking… it was kind of like being a celebrity. Then my friend and I went back to Fodes house to kill some time before the real party started. Apparently, I found out a few hours later, that was only some sort of pre party that formed while they were testing the speakers and setting up. So then around 9 Fode and I went back to sell tickets- I was really confused until I saw that it was exactly like a middle school dance but way more intense. Everyone in the town and from the surrounding towns between 5 and 30 was there waiting to buy tickets. Motos were showing up left and right and people dressed to the nines in both western clothes and Malian clothes were there. It was like ‘the fast and the furious’ and the whole place smelled like Moto exhaust, like when you’re sitting in the water behind a ski boat waiting to get pulled up. All the guys had to show off their motos. And all the girls had to dance and drown you in their perfume as they walked by. You can really tell who is from Bamako… its odd. So then they start hanging up all these dead animals by their feet and apparently you can buy snacks, they had sodas, and little seating areas were popping up as people passed chairs and tables over the walls. Then some guy comes over with a cup of pastis and asks repetitively, “you drink? You drink?” I turned down that option, drinking pastis of all things with a bunch of guys I don’t know… could have been fun but it’s not like I can understand the conversation anyways. It was kind of like being in a club, there’s that same sense of excitement when you spot one of your friends. So then I sat with Fode and helped him sell tickets to the swarms of little kids, it was about 20 cents for kids and 55 cents for adults. About 9 zillion girls were dancing on the stage by this point and all the guys were gathered around in the chairs or just dancing for their friends. Some skanky girls were sitting on random guys laps, I wonder if they were prostitutes. Who knows. I went home at 10 30 but I am pretty sure that things were still only getting started and the music kept going till one… quite the party.

First day back at site for another 3 week stint till thanksgiving… I am going to try to only go to my market town and other than that, not leave at all. Since it is the first day back I am still really excited about it. Going into Bamako for Halloween and things was really fun, stayed at my friend Fletchers house in Bamako with my friends. I love being in Bamako because you see other volunteers, and I always have a good time when I go out with people from the stage group ahead of us. They always have good stories and are real fun to be with. I can’t wait till the February stage comes in. Such a fun visit though, I miss my friends already and cannot wait until thanksgiving. Plus I am officially going to the party at the ambassador’s house. There will be 30 Peace Corps volunteers and then an assortment of USAID employees and I am sure a few other groups present as well. And I hear that she flies in all her food from America, turkey and whipped cream for the pies that she is known for included. I have met the ambassador a few times, she is so nice and cried at our swear in ceremony.

Trying to get back to site was as usual, an adventure. I tried to get out one day but transport still hadn’t left after waiting at the bus stop for 7 hours and I didn’t want to travel in the dark, given their track record so far. So I went back to stage house, which turned out to be awesome because I got to go out with a group of people from the Dogon country who were in for medical exams and stuff. But it was a fun night and even though I was ready to go back to site, I definitely can not complain about a free night at the stage house with fun people. That’s one of the perks of having Bamako as my stage house, while it sucks that we have to share it with everyone else who comes to Bamako for this and that reason, we get to meet a lot more people that the other regional capital stage houses. But so day 2, I got to the bus station at 7 because they said we were leaving at 8, and we finally got out around one. Typical. But it was fun because I knew I was going to get out before dark, so I just made friends with the people I had met the day before. Now I have a nice group of friends to hang around and wait with. By friends I mean the banana lady and an assortment of child laborers selling bread and things. It was also cool to be there so early and see everything getting set up for the day. I used to love airports and I guess I have started to love this bus station. I see people I know and there is always an interesting conversation to be had. While a schedule and bathroom would be nice, it’s ok. It was incredible though because I met 2 Liberian refugees. There are a few in my town but they are older and scary. But these 2 guys, as soon as I saw them, I knew they weren’t Malian for some reason. But they came up to me and asked if I spoke English and then we ended up talking for over an hour. They had endured the 14 year civil war in Liberia but were desperately trying to get out, so when their paperwork went on hold for asylum in America, they had to flee because they couldn’t be in country any more. So they went to Sierra Leone, but by the time they returned, the paperwork was lost and their family and cousins had already got to America. So then they took land transport via different traffickers around to Benin, then up through the deserts of Niger, Mali, Algeria, and morocco. It was as horrible as you have read in the news papers, people died and the traffickers took advantage of their vulnerability and there was not food. But they finally made it onto a boat in morocco and set sail for Spain. Unfortunately, they got caught by immigration officials in the water and were sent back to Algeria. As he said “Arabs don’t like us very much”, so there time in the desert and in hiding was difficult. Somehow they ended up on Red Cross transport through kidal and goa (both cities in northern Mali where we aren’t allowed to go because of al queada) and now they are in Bamako. After three days at the Red Cross center sleeping on mats and getting some clothes, the Red Cross was done with them and could not help them anymore. And that how they ended up stranded in Bamako, trying to get back to the country they were forced to flee, to try to start again and try to get to America. He didn’t ask for anything except help in immigration, which I certainly can’t help with. But I gave him phone credit and water and exchanged emails. So sad and so crazy to meet face to face. In Denmark it was one thing, when I was working at the Red Cross asylum center, but this was unreal. Maybe I’ll get masters in immigration issues… complicated but so interesting to me. I just wish there was more I could have done for him.

Then I finally got back to site, stopped at Andersons to get my bike and chat with people in his town and surrounding towns, and continued on. Getting back was nice though, things finally felt really familiar and I have a lot to do before thanksgiving and December.

So lately I have been looking for other 22 year olds to hang out with, as opposed to the posse of 14 year old girls that I have joined. But today i finally figured out that there are no 22 year olds in Mali, theoretically. Or anywhere with a culture like this. you are either 14 and single (maybe) or 22 with 3 dependant kids, 2 of whom are breastfeeding and are always tied to your back and hanging on your legs as you pound rice or corn. So this is why I feel like I don’t have friends at village. But now that I have realized this, I have embraced my club of 14 year old girls and so now things are great. Even more concerning is the issue of my sex Ed class prospective students. I was imagining rounding up all the 15 and 16 year olds maybe, but now I see that I need to get the 12 year olds… do I need to have them get parental consent forms signed? Or verbally in this case since most adults can’t read or write? Or maybe that just an American thing. But the other day I was talking to my 14 year old new best friend and I was asking her some of the questions in my baseline survey, which I had done with her parents a few weeks before. When I got to the part about STDs and family planning, I felt weird being alone with her even though I wanted her opinion without her moms influence… but I called her mom over because I didn’t want my question to come out wrong and then have her think I said something weird about sex. But before I got her mom over, I asked her what STDs she knew of and she said “Malaria!” …no…. not really. And then her mom corrected her and Fatim obviously had no idea she was even wrong. Hello sex Ed class inspiration! Malaria does seem to be a catch all around here… if you have anything out of the ordinary, then you have malaria and you have to eat papaya leaves. That’s all. O wonder they thing that papaya leaves work… because half the time it’s just a cold, and then when the person actually has malaria and dies because they didn’t get treatment, well that’s just the normal margin of error. Obviously. Malian logic wins again.

I started my baseline survey though and things have been really interesting. Even though they lie about washing their hands and stuff, just my asking again and then being around forces them to make their kids start washing their hands, so that’s good. Like the other day I saw my teachers kids eating fish and their mom actually made them wash their hands, and this is the first time I have ever seen this, so that was good. And apparently my teacher sells condoms from his house so that is good. If it seems to be relevant, maybe I will tell the kids in my sex Ed class that I will sell them too… but this is controversial so I will have to think about it. But I want them to come to me so I can tell them the facts straight instead of typical Malian fashion, which is dancing around the bush and never telling the cold hard truth. And these kids certainly wouldn’t go to my teacher to buy condoms anyways; they just aren’t using them because they can’t buy them without the whole region knowing. I think the girl before me may have sold them, but I think I will regardless. But they won’t get away without a big long talk first.

Things have been great lately because I told Fode that I wanted more time to spend with families other than his, especially my host family, and he understood so that was good. So since then I have been cooking lunch in my hut and giving some to my host family and neighbor sometimes, and I have had more time to wander the village and stop in with new people. Fode is a life saver but I swear, I was never alone and he always knew where I was. I felt like a puppy and totally not in control… I am glad I have that back now. And now I can actually eat lots. The last few days I have been making huge quantities of food, intending to give food to my friends but instead I ate it all each time… but that’s good. Gotta gain back some weight. Though I think I am back to normal so that’s good. That’s got me thinking about thanksgiving again… not an hour goes by where I don’t get excited about it.

Tomorrow is market day and it will be crazy since the Seliba festival is next Wednesday (supposedly). I am excited about that though and I have a new outfit being made at the tailors, matching with my host family… ill take lots of pictures don’t worry. They will probably make me wear a head scarf too so get excited about those pics when I put them up on face book at thanksgiving. I need to buy a bunch of stuff for my kitchen though, now that I am cooking, so that will be fun too. I also need to avoid the women on town who keep asking me to buy their kids new outfits for seliba…

I helped to pre natal consultations again at the CSCOM and again wondered if ‘avortement’ really meant abortion in English. I had asked the matron and she had explained but maybe I just couldn’t believe that it was such a common question, at every prenatal conversation, and that the answer was so often ‘yes, I have had this many’ while looking at the floor. The majority of women it seems have had at least one or two. And a girl of 14 who lied and said she was 16 until we pressured her to tell the truth came in pregnant too. The thing is that these girls always seem older, and in a way they are. They are usually married with kids by 17 so there is no such thing as the 22 year old that I am used to hanging out with in America. So yesterday I asked my teacher what the deal with abortion was around here and what the little pregnant girl was going to do. It turns out that it is the typical story of a developing country with strict religious beliefs incorporated into their laws and culture- abortion is completely illegal and doctors and patients will go to jail if caught. (Enter bribes) but as is custom in these situations, doctors or nurses or midwifes will sometimes do them if offered enough money to offset the almost invisible risk. There are no legal limits like in the states, where abortions cannot be preformed after the first trimester or so unless in certain cases, for many reasons including the fact that the risk is higher for the mother. So I would imagine that in a country without reliable pregnancy tests ( peace corps tells us never to use the French tests sold here in the pharmacy because of often false positive results) and high rates of anemia, that It would be hard to really know if you’re pregnant before 2 or 3 months go by. By this time, it is too late for the abortion method of taking a series of 2 pills, at least by US standards, and the other method, involving a vacuum and such, would be used. But in a land where both the medical facilities in my region have unreliable or no electricity, this means that both abortion methods approved as safe in the US are not possible here. So what results are untrained people doing abortion with substandard dangerous methods. My teacher was very animated when talking about his and cited cases where the women bleed to death, get infections which cause infertility or death, complications that also cause infertility or death, and the chance that all following pregnancies will fail early in the term. So if so many women at the CSCOM have had abortions, what percent of the women are infertile or dead? And where do they get the abortions? I know you can go to Bamako and get a relatively safer abortion but only the wealthy can afford this. Fode said that it is done in the woman’s home often times but that the doctors in this area are too scared. I don’t believe that they are too scared; I bet I could find a doctor who did them. I know one of my friends, she worked at a CSCOM and her homologue was the matron, and she performed abortions. Enter my sex Ed class. But how do you convince a boy of 15 of these issues and have him feel the same sense of frustration and push for action that a 20 year old does when faced with family planning methods? It almost seems like abortion is a form of birth control here. A very expensive, the most expensive actually and the most dangerous for sure. But when a 19 year old is pregnant, has kids at home, a husband thank god, and has already had 2 abortions- it is definitely a form of birth control. And if it is so common, it starts to feel not so bad, and easier to rationalize. So then Fode and I were talking about whether or not I should give out condoms in my little reproductive health class. We decided that this would in a way give the kids permission, but I decided that I will keep a bunch in my house and tell the kids that they can come get them from me for free. But how do you make that seem appealing to a kid… but kids here can’t buy them, there are no secrets, so we do what we can. And now for that poor unmarried 14 year old who looks 25, she cannot go to school anymore if she even was before and now boys see her as someone they can sleep with and not have to marry, if they didn’t see her as that before… especially when the father may be just as young, they are too young to legally marry even in Mali.

There is one girl here who is a curious case. I won’t identify who she is just in case somehow someone gains access to this blog. (its happened before… someone’s host mom stopped talking to her after she posted pictures on her blog, one of which had the 3 year old naked She is 17 and has the attitude of a 25 year old super model. I have tried and tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, invited her to lunch, given her nail polish, but she is impossible. So yesterday I was talking to my friend and told him that I failed again at making friends with her. And he said that it’s fine, that everyone around here knows that she is impossible, and that is exactly why no one around here is going to want to marry her. He said, at the risk of sounding harsh, that boys were going to see her as someone they can sleep with and then ignore, and he said that she will soon be 40 and still living at home with 3 kids from 3 different dads. His speech was humorous but he is right… and that is sad.

Another bummer is that I just found out that one of my favorite girls from my little posse of preteen girls is going to cote d’ivoire next week to live her aunt and her aunts daughters and go to school there… and that she will be staying there until she is doe with school, which will be a long long time, well after I leave Mali. So that is really sad. Her dad says it is because he didn’t get the education that he wanted but he wants his daughters to have it. So one I already in Bamako but luckily she is coming home Monday for the Seliba party and to say good bye to her sister… he says there will be lots of crying. He also said that if she stays here, that she will never got the chance to leave, that she will end up gallivanting around at night with the other kids who aren’t educated and couldn’t get out for whatever reason, and that she will end up pregnant. I am starting to see this town as the sort of place that the educated want to flee, not just the educated but the ones who want more than what their parents had… it’s sad.

Just another typical day in Mali… spent the morning pounding shea nuts and now my hands have blisters all over them… I hate how that keeps happening. Makes the other women think that I have fragile hands. But another event of the day was when the 10 year old daughter of my host family was crying. I don’t know why but she was really upset. She was in and out of the hut and we were all sitting out front under the cover. She was really upset but I guess she decided that sitting outside would make her feel better. But as I have heard is custom around here, her 2 host moms and older sister just alternated laughing at her and making fun of her and asking me to take pictures of her because she was crying. It was just ridiculous, she is the one child in the family who really works and certainly deserves respect from her older lazy sister especially. Now there are plenty of reasons that she could be crying about, one being that she is a Malian girl or maybe that she has like 5 siblings under the age of 5 who are always crying simultaneously… but there isn’t a way in Bambara to say, why are you upset? So I saw this as a wonderful opportunity to make her my friend and show her family a lesson. I got up and told her to come with me to my house and sat her down in my comfy chair, let her pick a crystal light packet, and gave her a stack of gossip magazines. I just did my dishes and such but she calmed down a lot and then once she was totally composed, left. But I hope that she will see my house as a little island away from Mali sometimes… I want her to come over more. And this will make her older sister jealous, that she got special treatment, so it served 2 purposes because now her older sister will maybe be nicer to me to try to get to come to my little island of freedom.

Yesterday was Seliba. A Muslim holiday of some sort, I don’t know what it is about or even what its name in English is. But it was kind of like the African bush version of thanksgiving… if you can picture that. Tons of family members came to my town on Tuesday and most will leave on Saturday or Sunday. Everyone gets their hair done, feet and hands hennaed, eye brows waxed off and new gigantic Aladdin Barbie-esque ones drawn one. We all got new clothes too and people here love to be matching with their friends or family… so needless to say my host mom and neighbors got me in on their outfits… there are some very attractive pictures on my face book. They are priceless. So that morning I woke up feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning for some reason, and actually took the time to do my hair and wear mascara, only to have my host mom tie this giant scarf on my head and attempt to put charcoal on my eyes. Then I went to Fodes house because we they were killing a goat at 10. As we were killing the goat, Fode casually mentioned that a baby was being born and that my homologue had been at the maternity all night because one was born late last night too, so I raced over there to see what was happening in time to see the comatose woman walk out and the little baby being carried to the resting room next door. So I hung out with the matrons and my homologue while they collected all the body parts to be buried in the yard for good luck and while they cleaned the place. And to think, they even used soap and one woman was wearing gloves! Turns out that the new mom, who I have met at pre natal consultations before, is from Cote D’Ivoire originally but when her husband died, she took the option of marrying her husband’s younger brother, to ensure that someone would pay for her kids schooling and such. Apparently she could have stayed single and remarried on her own if she wanted, but in this culture, that isn’t really an option. This is one of the main arguments for why AIDS spreads faster in Muslim countries… exhibit A.

There are a lot of things about Peace Corps that sometimes I would rather not write about and just forget about. Malians seem to be pros at beating their kids with one half of the brain while greeting you, all smiles, in the same instance, with the other half. Or in this instance, watching your friend get beat by her husband in the courtyard as she screams ‘you’re a killer!’ and he pushes her down and stomps on her back with a host of ladies yelling at him and pushing him. And then ten minutes later be back to work, all smiles. Then he goes to wash his hands and feet off only to go back for round two, to once again humiliate and abuse every aspect of his wife, all the while avoiding eye contact and never showing any emotion. To such a degree, that in the beginning when I heard her screaming from my hut and went outside and saw him, I thought he was just joking around. it’s nice to know that the ladies have each other’s backs to a certain extent, like right now the woman who was beaten (age 19, beautiful and so nice, one of the ladies who I had matching outfits with) is hiding in one of their houses with her cute little three year old daughter who spent the event crying on the side lines. All the ladies were yelling at him, something about children, and everyone seems to be angry at him but that is all. It will happen again and again. Just goes to show, yet again, that even the nicest, shyest seeming man can turn around and beat the hell out of his young wife whom he has children with. I was planning to spend the afternoon in my hut and now I definitely feel justified in doing so. There are some things that I really hate about Mali and their acceptance of domestic, child, and animal abuse is up there. And it’s safe to say that their dispute was cut short by the crowd of angry women and for all I know, it will continue behind closed doors this evening, where it is even more socially acceptable. That is how our teacher once explained it- domestic abuse is fine behind closed doors, in the privacy of one’s home, but rude when done in public. How considerate. Needless to say, yet another Malian mind has lost my respect. Sure someone is probably reading this right now saying that it’s a circle of violence, that he was raised in that manner and that it’s the only way he knows, that really it’s not his fault, its Malian society’s fault for allowing it to continue. Well it will continue forever unless some man sees it as the dehumanizing act that it is, sooner or later. If everyone in Mali believes that it is justified, when will the belief change? I talked to Fode about it that night at dinner. He said that she was forced to marry her husband by her parents but that she didn’t want to. She’s 19 and has a 3 year old so she couldn’t have been more than 16… it’s so sad, she is completely stuck.

But tomorrow I am baby weighing and handing out vitamins to kids… and then Wednesday I will go to Bamako for thanksgiving!! I cannot wait.

BAMAKO TOMRROW THANK THE LORD. 3 straight weeks at site… haven’t spoken English except on the phone… won’t even say how many times I washed (or should I say didn’t wash) my hair… if Bamako if now the land of the free then that makes America… heaven? Just talked to my dad, he’s on a plane going to America to meet up with my mom and sister at my aunt’s house in Greensboro, so jealous!! But it’s crazy to picture an airplane right now; I bet Fode is the only person in my village who has ever seen a plane, none the less been on one. And he was in a stripped cargo plane flying from north Mali to Bamako. That’s all. My dad’s eight hour flight across an entire ocean is how long it takes me to drive the 125 k to Bamako in a bush taxi sometimes… there is no doubt that this is a parallel universe. This can’t be the same planet.

Things like ‘relative poverty vs. extreme poverty’ that we talked about in class in college don’t even touch this world that I am in right now. 33% of kids under 5 die. Blame it on the colonial legacy, the culture, the religion, whatever you want. On a side note, in the book I am reading right now, The End of Faith by Sam Harris, explains this a little. It also says that (is Mali an Arab country? I guess not… but similar) the GDP of all Arab countries combined is less than that of Spain and Spain has translated more books into Spanish this year than the Arab world has since the 9th century. And on that note, according to a survey done by the Pew Research Center for the People and the Press, when Malians were asked if suicide bombing and terrorist attacks in defense on Islam are justifiable, 54% of Malians said a flat out yes, not even including the ‘probably’ and ‘don’t know/maybe’ groups. I highly recommend this book; it is the best book in the subject that I have read. Some books on this issue frustrate me and I can’t finish them, like the God Delusion, for example. But this one, I have nothing but good things to say.

heat delerium and other tales

I am eating Oreos, listening to my iPod, checking my cell phone neurotically for texts, and on the computer… Is this Peace Corps? For a country with such a hard reputation, right now in this moment, I feel as though I am in the “posh corps” that we have all bitched about together when imagining our fellow idealists in say, anywhere but here. But it’s ok. Whenever my mind goes blank, probably due to the short term memory loss associated with the amphetamine based anti malaria drug I’m on, the only thing that I can think of to type is that I love the peace corps and that I want to feel this free and passionate every day for the rest of my life. Which leads me to my current issue that I ponder during the hours that I spend pretending to understand conversations in Bambara… can I have everything I want? Things are what you make them out to be. I am now reading Eat, Pray, Love; after ignoring it because it was too popular, I was convinced to give it a try and am in love with the writer. I have taken it to mean the same thing as Tales of a Female Nomad and The Lunatic Express meant to me- will I ever be somewhere where that there aren’t emotional rollercoaster’s everyday? Will I be happy if there aren’t? I can’t wait to live in America again in a cute apartment with a nice kitchen and bathroom… maybe move in with someone and get married someday. Everything else that I want to do I can do alone whenever I want. Like Peace Corps.
So, I arrived back at site 2 days ago for the second stint until I go into to Bamako for Halloween… obviously, transport as usual was a huge pain and I am getting fed up. It’s not really that funny anymore when I am convinced that I am going to die every 5 seconds, of either a heart attack or a mulit- bush taxi pile up. We all know the horror stories here. .. the volunteer whose bus got in a head on collision and the first 5 rows all died but he was in the sixth row and had to climb out over all the bodies and then take post exposure (to HIV/AIDS) prophylaxis… but I have dealt with this by never sitting in the front of taxis and always trying to sit in the dead middle of the bush taxi with my back pack acting as a seat belt. And riding my bike insane distances. But the story is that my site mate Anderson and I arrived at the bus station at 9 and then waited around till 2 for the bush taxi to fill up. Then we left and arrived at his site, 100 k from Bamako, in 2 hours. The road is not paved but smooth. Then we dropped him off and I continued down. I considered spending the night but didn’t think it was necessary since it was only 4. The road looked better, it had improved in the last month thanks to some new work because the president visited and the lack of flooding. But the 30 k to my site never seems to end and every bend that we take reveals more road that looks like it has been hit by heavy mortar fire worse than what I already used my last pleas to God on. So we evacuate the vehicle every so often so it can blow through the lakes without getting stuck in the mud. It’s a gamble, you have to go fast to make it through the ravines and lakes, but slow so that you don’t flip in the unforeseen underwater trenches. So long story short, after a few push starts and evacuations, we didn’t make it out. But it’s ok, because usually we can push start it out of the mud. But this time we can’t. It’s now 7 and getting dark. Should have stayed at Andersons. So we start walking… I only have one of my bags with me. I am walking with these ladies whom I have befriended with old stale cakes I had in my backpack. I finally get a hold of Fode and he comes right away on his Moto… I hate motos and am not even allowed on them… except in emergency situations maybe? So I sit on the road, wet because I fell in an underwater trench, praying that I didn’t get worms or schisto, while he rides back to the car to try to get my other bag. He comes back with nothing so then we walk together back through the disgustingly warm puddles. We wait around and help them try to dig out the car for a little and then just get my bag off and walk back to the Moto. Then much to my dismay there is no other option than to load me, my 2 bags, and Fode onto the Moto. Let me say again, he is an absolute life saver and I absolutely love him. He puts up with so much from me. Not sure why it’s worth it. So we embark on the road with me yelling “DONNI DONNI A KA GELEN!!!” every ten seconds. Slow down slow down this is hard! He just laughs and slows down. I need a helmet for the next time this inevitably happens. Unfortunately motos are one thousand dollars, or else I would just buy one. So we arrive at site. I still can’t read my military time watch that I accidently switched and can’t switch back and I thought it was 10 but it was only 8 I later realized… after I was in bed. Might I add, as soon as we arrived, there was a freak rain storm with hurricane force winds and thunder. So now I am just wondering how I will get back to Bamako next time… I think I will ride my bike the 30 k to Anderson’s house and then spend the night and then go in with him the next day. And now I am just praying that worms don’t start crawling out of my legs anytime soon. Ugh.
But the next morning I slept in and then my homologue came and got me saying what I thought was that we were going to plant trees but then we instead spent the next 8 hours making ameliorated porridge for 70 women with Bartoma, my friend from my market town. It was really good that I was there for that so I am definaly glad that I didn’t sleep at Andersons.
Today I saw my teacher beat a little girl with a tree branch. He didn’t do any tangible damage to her but it really messed me up. I couldn’t watch and I don’t know if the other women who were sitting around noticed my discomfort. I know that maybe since Fode grew up in that kind of environment that maybe it isn’t his fault, but for a man so modern and seemingly cultured there is no excuse and it has tarnished his image in my mind. He has now become a “Malian”, instead of just a friend and teacher. There are now differences too big to cross cultures. Sure there were probably a ton before too, but they didn’t strike me.
Though today at dinner we had a good conversation. He was talking about some trips that he had taken to Goa, Mauritania, and Guinea. This conversation had a few parts which I knew I would want to remember. One was his first time on an airplane was coming back to Bamako from Goa in a military cargo plane… not sure on the details of that but it was funny the way he described the plane and how scary it was. This was right after we saw a plane in the sky and he made all the kids look at it as he explained what it was. I think he has been to England though so I guess he has been on a plane since then. Some things get lost in translation though. I think he wanted to stay in England forever but couldn’t… he says he never experiences nostalgia because it is tiring and therefore only lives in the present, but I sense that he would have liked to live in Bamako or England or America. He describes his dream life in America, with his wife who doesn’t work because he makes so much money…. But he makes his life here very well. For example, he was in guinea because the nonprofit Plan Mali was opening a Plan guinea so he was invited to be a part of the ceremony. He is a big name guy, so helpful to everyone and he never says a bad word about anyone and I imagine there is no one who could say a bad thing about him. But then we got talking about how dangerous Mali’s border sharing countries are and about al queada. I asked him how he felt about al Qaeda and he went off on this tirade about how they are vagabonds. He used the same word to describe the governments of most of the countries around here too.
Ok, I have been really bad about writing for my blog lately. In the past week, I hit a tipping point. I hadn’t been sleeping really at all, had been feeling what I think is probably anxiety, and I just never felt relaxed. Which is weird in a place where I have no deadlines or any obligations of any sort for that matter… so I hopped on my bike and finally decided to ride the 35 k to my site mate Andersons house. This was a Tuesday. Things here happen so damn slow, like on activity per day, so I had to point out what day of the week it was because this was the craziest week ever… in my opinion. It only took a little under 3 hours which was not bad given how many bacteria and schisto infected lakes and puddles and mud bogs that I had to wade through. And the fact that I was riding in essentially sand, which I didn’t realize till I woke up the next morning would cause me severe pain. So I got to Andersons and he had a bucket bath ready and waiting and left over burritos from the night before for us to eat. Best welcome ever. Then we sat in his hammocks for a few hours and read lonely planet books and commiserated. On a business note, I met the matron in his town who I will definitely want to work with some and she knew lots of people in my town. We also visited the Plan Mali headquarters. Then we rode our bikes into the bigger town 7 k from his and got cold beer and chicken and lots of good food. So so nice. Hello low standards for what qualifies as an awesome vacation. But then we were riding back and he wanted to show me this cool cliff with an awesome view, a rarity in flat Mali, and we made a wrong turn and all the sudden ended up at this house and saw a tubab. So we decided to go see what he is doing here and turns out he is a missionary, 7th day Adventist, from Texas living here with his wife and 2 kids, both under 5. They have been here for a year and they live in a cool house with a few Malians living in smaller houses around it too. So we chatted and then we went back the next day after market for lunch. The guy is pretty cool, I didn’t ask what his mission was, he says he is not leaving until he achieves “his mission”, and after scanning his book shelves I decided it was better not to ask. But he told us his life story and he is a really cool guy who we will visit often at around lunch time.
Side note- Michael Jackson is blasting in my neighbor’s concession right now.
Anyways, then Anderson and I rode to my site on Thursday and on the way found this awesome “coffee café” where we spent over an hour, delaying our trip but well worth it to make a few friends and drink African brewed and grinded coffee. Then we continued riding, I took funny videos of Anderson wading through the waters in routes that were most likely the worst ever, and then we finally got to my site and hung out here. The next day my APCD (boss) came to visit to evaluate how things were going and reintroduce me to the “authorities” as she calls them. The next day we wanted to start our mural but didn’t have paint so that evening we rode back to Andersons site so I could catch a bus into Bamako the next morning, since my sites transport has been unreliable because the road is so bad. So we stopped in the big town for dinner and then went to his site and I left the next morning at 6 and got into Bamako around 10, took the best shower ever, bought paint, and then met up with my friends who had an assortment of infections that landed them all in Bamako. My friend and I stayed in this really cool old French hotel with pretty colonialist era architecture and design, complete with a pool and nice showers. I am defiantly going to bring my family there. It’s about the same price as other places too but so much better. Hotel Rabelais, for those of you planning a trip to Bamako right now… but we got dinner nearby and just got to lay around and there was ever a nice TV so my friend even got to watch like 5 minutes of Manchester united against the wolves. But I had to get back to site on Sunday because of a meeting on Monday morning with ASACO, a board of health directors of sorts, but it was a great spontaneous trip into Bamako to say the least. So that meeting was today and now I am cleaning and decorating and integrating until Thursday when the national polio vaccination initiative begins, a 3 day door to door event that I am really excited about because it will give me a chance to literally see every person in this entire village. And then Sunday I am going into Bamako because I have no money left and the bank was closed when I was there buying paint… and it’s Halloween too. So things are moving fast right now and then when I get back from Halloween I really need to start my base line survey…. And then it will be thanksgiving at the ambassador’s house with friends and official people and then December IST! I forgot to say though that today I hung out with the guy from doctors without borders who was here giving out free malaria testing…. I swear, every kid we tested was positive. And the little ones don’t want to swallow the meds so it ends up all over their face and I doubt any of it makes it into their little bodies… bad plan. They need and injection. But also, Fodes wife has pretty serious malaria right now and she said that she was planning to go to the doctor tonight, but that Fode had to go fishing first before he could drive her there on his Moto…
The past week is over but god did it go by slow. Had my first mental break down since getting site, wondering why the hell I am here, and though I can’t say the question is answered, it helps to not be in my house alone. Even though it’s hard to stay out it definitely leaves me happier and feeling more productive which is vital to my fragile mind right now. But yesterday and today we vaccinated about 300 kids for polio so that has been really good. I like to think that maybe my presence acted as a catalyst to get things going, but I don’t know. It was just drops so even I could administer them when the kids weren’t running away from me in fear. Ironically enough, the only family to refuse the vaccine is the family in which the head of the household only has one good leg because, you got it, he had polio as a kid. So I am not sure what his logic is, but the doctor from a neighboring town is coming in tonight to try to convince him one last time and if that doesn’t work then they are off to the gendarme. I am not sure what happens at the gendarme but I can’t imagine. I am hoping to go into Bamako tomorrow but may have to wait till Sunday, depending on whether or not the neighboring town is done with their vaccinations because if they aren’t then I have to go over there and be the main spectacle to get people out and excited about polio vaccinations. Halloween in Sunday though and I have a few errands to run, including going to the doctor to zap and infection obviously since this is Africa after all, but all my friends are already in Bamako… so I am hoping to get outta here tomorrow morning but the last day is bearable so I won’t be too bummed, since no matter what I’ll leave Sunday and I need to stop spending money in Bamako like its play money. Gotta save up for my life after Peace Corps.

In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, “so it goes”

According to common myth and totem religion that some people in my village follow, Traores don’t eat panthers. And Kieta’s don’t eat hippos. In case I have already said this, my name here for these 2 years is Awa Traore. I have heard anyone call me Emily or spoke English face to face in a LONG TIME.
I spent the last week in Bamako waiting for the rain to stop and then the end of Ramadan came so I had to wait for that to be over too because my driver had to go to parties and public transport isn’t running because the road is too bad. But the week in Bamako was awesome! I didn’t realize how cool of a city it is. Things are starting to make sense in my head; I am starting to get a sense of direction around there. Hanging out with PCVs is really nice too because then I learn the secrets of Bamako, vacations, and Peace Corps life in general. I know what things bother them, what to expect around my one year mark, and that I definitely want to go somewhere with my family at the one year mark. Maybe visit Lars in Dresden, take the GREs somewhere in Europe, and then travel with my parents. Good time to leave and come back.
Today was funny. So weird. Such an emotional rollercoaster. I thought I felt something earlier but once I got to site, I was hit with a million thoughts. There was a moment when I was like ok; this is it- I can turn around, now or never. Then there were times I just wanted to cry and other times that I couldn’t have been happier.
I am their doll. The dress me up, parade me around in their headscarves and outfits, tell me what to say, pet me and play with my hair. It’s hilarious. It’s hot though. And I hope I don’t have skin diseases.
I forgot how beautiful this place is. The night sky is mind blowing. The hills and greenery. Am I really in Africa? Am I anywhere? It’s weird. Seeing a place on a globe for so long and then actually being in such an odd place. Mali of all places. The people here are wonderful. I can’t wait for my family to visit. My friends here are really excited too. They asked about it again today. I totally forgot that I had said something about my family visiting a few times in the next 2 years the last time I was here. Everyone is so happy to see me. I’m glad they think I have something to offer, because without their faith I would just leave. I’m not sure how I am actually going to help them. Sure, my presence is fun and great, but someone is paying me to do something here. Something tangible. So many ideas.
Tomorrow is September 11th. I wonder if people here know about it. I know I have read in blogs that some people’s villages didn’t know about it, and when they told them, everyone cried and was so upset. Today I was talking to my APCD about how this guy in Gainesville planning to burn Korans is a complete idiot. He is putting me and every other American working in a Muslim country in not only an awkward position but also at risk. But my APCCD was so mad. I actually regretted bringing it up, he got really heated. It started with me asking him if I should be concerned for my safety. He said no but then went off on how the terrorists are not Muslim and how this guy is not a Christian. He had good points, I totally agreed with him. It was a really interesting conversation.
Third night at site. September 11th went by without incident. I was worried. I didn’t bring it up around anyone though. I assume most know it happened. Today was a mile stone. I had been feeling awkward and useless but today I broke the barrier with 3 women in my neighborhood, one could say, and now I feel like it will be easier to hang out with them and form relationships where I could influence them positively and change behavior. I am bummed though because my very pregnant neighbor had her kid while I was gone… I missed it by 2 days. I was totally hoping that they would get me from my house next store so I could see the process and learn about what behaviors may need to be changed, like do they breast feed right after or wash the baby right after. But there are other pregnant women around so I will have to hang out with them. But her new son is so cute and today when I was waiting for my friend to call she asked if I could take pictures. I did and I definitely plan on getting them developed in Bamako and giving them to her. So is the most adorable woman, actually I know 3 women here who just make me smile. I am glad though, excited to form deeper prelateships. And I got to talk to my friend about their experience so far, it was so refreshing to talk to another Peace Corps volunteer from site. I had talked to my friend while I was still in Bamako and she said she had already weighed babies… I don’t think I will be doing that soon. But I have plans to start a baby weighing circle in collaboration with a women’s group but my language skills aren’t there yet. Maybe Fode can help me draft a speech. He I too kind though. Always trying to give me things from his own home and offering to tutor me for free once I pass the 30 hours that Peace Corps will pay for. Everyone here is too kind; they would give me the clothes off their backs if I said I liked them.

Oh man, today was yet another emotional rollercoaster. It started off well enough, heavy rains since 4 am meant a slow morning so I took advantage of that. I had a leisurely breakfast and a little after 8 30, I wandered to Fodes house. Fode is my teacher/friend if I haven’t mentioned that already. He is great, my saving grace. Doesn’t do enough for me to prevent pangs of loneliness, but today was the first time I felt lonely so I guess that pretty good considering I have been here a few days now. But we did our usual tutoring at the school, walked around town, had tea 9 million times, talked to some people, and looked in the maternity. Today was different though because we made plans. We are going to weigh babies on Monday, I can’t wait. And Thursday we are walking 4 K to a nearby town to go to the CSCOM and market day. So then I will meet some people and maybe feel like a health educator and not just a random seemingly stupid tubab. Who hangs around, butchering their language every chance I get. So then it was lunch time, I got stuck eating with a bunch of men, and I was the only one who washed my hands. Ugh. We share a communal bowl for symbolism… and as much as I try to only eat parts that I think haven’t been contaminated with the fecal oral cycle, it is impossible because they do me the favor of stirring my portion around because it’s hot food. AHHH. So after eating a little and then running into my house and stuffing a snickers into my body in less than 30 seconds, I mosey back out and then go to another luncheon. We eat fish. This is fine, till I found out today that they prepare the fish the night before and they don’t have refrigerators. And yesterday I drank cow’s milk by accident. I thought it was powered milk so as I was drinking it I said I like powdered milk, and they were like ‘oh no! Don’t worry! Its cow milk!’ Well, aren’t I lucky. So hopefully they boiled that for the full 3 minutes or else I could have bovine tuberculosis. Yet the 9 millionth time of the day where I just smile and curse under my breath. Then I wander around some more, speaking Bambara in a town where they speak Malinke, and look at some people killing a cow. I told Fode about it later and he said that he doesn’t eat meat, that cow was sick so that’s why they killed it and that’s why they were selling the meat. Super. So I guess unrefrigerated fish and bovine TB it is, because mad cow is probably a disease I will avoid. So then after my lunches I say I’m going to shower, which I haven’t done since arriving here but I use the excuse like 5 times I day to leave, and my homologue follows me into my house and sits down. I can never understand here. She must speak Malinke. I can’t even speak Bambara. So I give her a copy of people magazine and I read my book. She thinks my trashy magazines are hilarious so that’s good. So we sit like that for an hour and then she gets up and starts weeding my yard. So I join her, I guess that’s their way of telling me that my house looks like trailer trash. All the other women are like ‘wow, Awa Traore does yard work!’ so they all line up and tell me how great it is that I’m cleaning and the little kids peer through the cracks. Then my homologue leaves so I finish my book about the PC volunteer in Cote d’ivoire and depression strikes. She talks about how much she did there as a healht volunteer. So I wander around for a second before realizing I am defiantly not in the mood for chatting in Bambara and start reading the journal that the 2 girls before me left. That was a horrible idea, because in the midst of all their accomplishment they chronicle their frustrations, and then I sink deeper. So I call my parents and they are biking in France with friends and looking at castles and I lookout my door at the baby goat eating my Chaco and consider beating it. But I don’t. Instead I take pictures of the new born next door because she loves that. That is a mood lifter for like a second. It seems like I do a lot in my days but really I just do a lot of thinking, planning for things that are a month away, and wishing I could speak Bambara. I know they want me here, but man, I just feel worthless sometimes. But in the end, it’s the people that I value, not the place. So I gotta make some friends. I have been trying to become friends with my neighbor and her new born, so that’s going well. And the boy who lives next door to me and I are going to start English lessons tomorrow afternoon so that’s good. But I don’t know. At dinner I was basically one second away from just crying so I didn’t know what to do so I basically asked Fode for his life story so that I wouldn’t have to talk and sitting in silence was too painful, he could tell my head was a million miles away. I feel so removed. But then the conversation got good, and I asked him if the maternity in this town sells birth control, and he said it does. Fode is awesome. No conversation of off limits with him. He said that all women get BC for 3 months after a delivery and that many continue, with getting the shot. He said that his wife has been getting them for years. That’s great, but what am I supposed to do here? Women already know everything. I’m not going to be able to blow their minds with new knowledge. Changing behavior is great and all but it’s intangible. Sleeping will be hard tonight. When do I get a weekend? I was talking to my friend the other day and said I could see myself being a site rat, staying here for long period’s f time. But days like today, I really need a friend. It’s lonely as hell here sometimes. I feel so so so alone. Maybe it’s just today, I mean today if the first time that the feeling has struck, but man, I need a site mate who is closer. I can’t even visit my site mate till after rainy season because the road is too bad. So I’m stuck here. Day in and day out, no weekend, no time alone. Alone in my head. I would call a friend but most don’t have service and I don’t want to depend on others. Only 2 weeks till the week long language training with friends at tubaniso. But god, that’s far away when there is no escape, no weekend, no movie night. Day by day. These first 3 months are hard because PC is riding our backs making us stay at site all the time to make us integrate. Sue it’s a great idea, and I guess it doesn’t really matter for me because I live on an impossible road anyways so I am isolated by rainy season. But god, I need s break. Though I may seem miserable right now, I am still glad to be in this situation. I am happy to be pushing myself. I want to push myself. I love the friends I have made so far and the relationships and experiences even in the past 3 days are invaluable. And I have already overcome obstacles. But god, I could use a Bamako night.
Ok, things obviously got better. What a depressing day. I can’t even really remember why I was so upset. But I was moping around this afternoon, had just got back to my hut after lunch for the start of another lazy afternoon. I really wanted to break the habit. I got a text from a friend when I turned my phone on and it was about how happy he was and how he was on an awesome bike ride. It whipped me into shape, I realized that if I am going to turn my mood around, then I have to be active, I can’t just sit around. So I hooked my iPod up to my speakers and cleaned my house and started organizing my shelves. Just as I was finishing, my host mom person comes in. Perfect timing. I invite her to sit and she stays for a while. We read magazines, talk about my planes for baby weighing, and talk about her kids and things. Then the creepy guy comes back. While she is in my hut. Which was good maybe, because hopefully she could see that he isn’t my friend. I just stood in the door way and talked to him without inviting him in. Eventually he got the hint that he wasn’t coming in so he left reluctantly after I said goodbye like 5 times. After he left I asked my host mom about him and made it clear that I didn’t know or like him. Apparently he is from guinea and is a sort of migrant worker. So that explains why no one knows him. And makes him even creepier. I was stupid though, when he asked if I wanted to walk around that evening, I said I couldn’t because I was eating dinner with Fode and his family. So then later on today when I went to Fodes house, the creepy guy was there. Ugh. I hate this guy. So I talked to Fode and said look, he came over again, I don’t like or know him and I don’t want people thinking that he is my boyfriend. So Fode gets it but I’m still not sure. I'm not going to allow myself to put up with this like Malian women, it’s not ok but it’s hard not to be polite.
But then later on this evening I found the key to success. If I want to change behavior, I have to make friends and have good conversations and set an example. And today I got invited to cook with Fodes wife and his daughter. Hello beginning of a relationship. But unfortunately, both his oldest daughters got to boarding school in Bamako. Bummer. I would have loved to become close with them.
Today was a big day. It is the 16th of September. Not only is the big 50th Malian anniversary of independence from France in 6 days, (and I have a special outfit made with 50th anniversary fabric) but I went to the market in my market town 4 k away and went to the main CSCOM of the area. In case of emergency patients go 25 k to the bigger CSCOM of the area, in an ambulance donated by an English NGO (the driver is on the wrong side ahahah) but for my village and about 5 others, this CSCOM is it. I had met one of the doctors before; he is young and animated and seems really really great. He is happy and energetic and really fun to be around. Now if only I could communicate with him. I think he speaks French but I was kind of shell-shocked, meeting 9 million people and absorbing so much that I couldn’t formulate any sentences in French so I just stuck to my basic Bambara. There is a prenatal consultation room, a birthing room, a rest room (for a few hours after delivery… A FEW HOURS??! In France you get a week after delivery covered by insurance in the hospital.) A pharmacy room and a consultation room. All the doors lead to the front porch and there is a littering of NGO given flyers in French, good idea guys, about what vaccines are important and why you should use condoms. I also met a matron. I have a hard time shaking these women’s hands because I know that they profit from female circumcision- in most cases, they reform it, and make money off it. I saw in town today a sign in French from an NGO saying that only 70% of girls between 0 an d4 years were circumcised in 2008. This is great and all, but I know that in some cases girls are circumcised 3 days before their wedding- so is that other 30% just being circumcised later? Excuse my word choice- I can’t believe I called it circumcision- female genital mutilation is more accurate but around here, not only am I not allowed to talk about, but when I do, I have to ‘sensitive’. AHHH some things around here are just so frustrating. In Cote d’ivoire, one main reason that the practice continues is because women believe that if they aren’t circumcised, that sorcerers will kill their babies. SORCERERS?!?!? I mean many can’t understand science so it makes sense for them but I just want to bash my head against the wall. But I need to get over myself and work with the ‘sorcerers’. For example, I can tell them that the only a sorcerer can’t give you aids is if you wear a condom. But misinformation is misinformation and it’s hard.
Tomorrow will be good though because I am going to a meeting at the mayor’s office with the chiefs of the surrounding 8 ish villages about what kind of projects they have in mind for the next year. This will be a good basis from which I can launch my baseline survey next month, and just a good reader on what they need and if they see me as a money bank. I have been reading the journal that the girls who volunteered before me left, and they both expressed frustrations about this issue. But in the end, in a way I am a money bank, and if they can match with labor and enthusiasm and effort, then I am more than willing to find funds. Today they had a party planning meeting for the events of the coming week to celebrate the 50th anniversary. I am not allowed to go to Bamako to celebrate, because of the threat of riots (have I already said this) but I don’t mind. In case I haven’t- people are mad because they say "c’est pour nous", it is for us, but in reality, the only people benefiting from the 50th anniversary and all the new roads and monuments that the Chinese are building are rich people. Their nearly nonexistent school system isn’t being revamped and they certainly aren’t reforming welfare or the health care system. Not that I’m comparing or anything.
The last 3 days have been awesome. But a precursor note- it is mid afternoon and I just walked home from my teachers house so I could eat some of my American food stash (thanks again SO MUCH those of you who sent packages!!!!) but I walked by this kid absolutely crying hysterically and running, looking back at this guy who works in the bike shop who was carrying a switch, a little tree branch. Who knows what this kid did but it was really scary. I think he thought the guy wouldn’t hurt him if he was near me so he kind of stayed close which was good. The kid kept running though and then I watched as the guy turned around and walked away. I know people here threaten kids a lot, and I know they probably beat them, but it’s a concept I can’t get my head around to accept as something that actually happens. So then I went to my bathroom and saw him sitting there on the other side of the bushes crying. His back was to me but he was still very rattled, it’s a different kind of crying than the kind that kids do for show. He took off his shirt and his back was destroyed. He had literal whip lashing welts all over his lower and upper back. The skin wasn’t broken on all of them but I don’t know what to do. Should I have called him over and into my house? Probably, I regret not doing so now. But he was a boy of probably 12 and he probably would have been too embarrassed but ah I am so mad at myself for not taking him into my house, teaching him that it’s ok to cry, bandaging him, and letting him know that it was wrong of that man to do that. I’m so mad at myself now. Opportunity missed. Next time, I will act.
But anyways, 2 days ago was a meeting at the mayor’s office 4 k away. We went on our bikes in the morning, left at 9 for meeting that started at 10 that obviously didn’t get rolling till around 11 and then the power went out which added some time to fix the generator and then the meeting lasted till 5 pm at which point we left because it was raining really hard and getting dark…. Fun bike ride. It actually was really nice. But this meeting was interesting to say the least. There were about 20 old men, a few from each of the surrounding villages of about 1500 people or less. The meetings purpose was to update statistics on population, school location, building collapse in the rainy season, accessibility, and needs. All the men were old I wonder If things were altered by my tubab woman presence. The meeting started in Bambara, shifted into French, to impress me probably, then the old men would yell at the presenter to switch back to Bambara, at which point I would be completely lost yet again. But then after lunch which came the typical and expected 2 hours late, we got the generator running and all the word documents were in French so that was good. The needs part was interesting though, to see what types of things people wanted for their towns and what issues concerned them most- granted, this was a group of only men. The women’s needs would have been much different and I would have loved to hear them. But on that note, there is a women’s group here who I am going to meet with and also a Shea butter cooperative group, who I plan to meet with and start an income generating project, maybe to fund a garden or something. But back to the meeting- it was pretty frustrating to see that men wanted electricity, cell phone service, and other things like this. Sure, electricity would light up the streets, but what appliances do they need to plug in? Who is going to pay the bills? The road is too bad tot even get street lamp poles down to these villages. If I could do them one huge favor, it would be pave the roads. Then they could get things to markets easier. It would also be to get women bikes to ride to the markets and not let the men hog them all day to ride to their friends houses and to ride to the store to buy tea. Or even better, for the kid that they send to the store to buy tea to ride the bike. But I know a lot of non profits use bikes as rewards for coming to school and such- if any reading this knows of a nonprofit that gives out bikes- let me know what it is. I want to get some bikes here. The walk to market isn’t too bad but it would be better and more profitable with bikes.
Being that this is the third poorest country in the world, the issue trickles down into the fact that even if I could get supplies for the school, there aren’t enough jobs available so the kids are expected to fail out before high school… which, in full circle form, brings us back to the problem that this is the third poorest country in the world. I have been seeing a lot of negative things left behind from colonialism lately, one of which is the school system. I definitely plan to work in the school in my area. We will have a biology day and even if it doesn’t fit into their curriculum, I as a tubab am the only person who can demonstrate condom use on a wooden phallus without being scorned by the community and lord knows the kids will remember this lesson.
Today I weighed babies. Over the few hours we sat under the straw awning, we weighed 50 babies, all under 5. Baby weighing was great but it brings a few issues to light. One is that if women here don’t register their babies, not only are they not allowed access to government programs, but then the mothers also don’t know how old their kid is which hurts the accuracy of my baby weighing. And like I said earlier, sometimes just looking isn’t enough; normal looking kids can be in the red zone. But baby weighing was awesome and made me think that I might actually be a useful presence around here. When I get back from tubaniso in mid October I am going to do a follow up weighing to see if my advice helped and then have a follow up meeting form mothers of kids in red and yellow zones on how to add oil to food to make it fattier. And a lesson about increasing protein intake and how to keep themselves healthy while breastfeeding. And maybe there is a way to make women whose breasts have stopped producing milk start again, because it is really painful to see little kids who should be breast feeding not be because their mom is so malnourished that she can’t produce milk. Turns into a potential death sentence for the baby. There is no money to buy powdered milk and the water here is dirty anyways so it’s a problem. But then this afternoon after lunch I hung around my teacher’s house with the women. I finally got in with them. I made Shea butter with them yesterday morning for a few hours and today had a nail painting party for like 15 little kids and then took my camera out so now not only are the kids more comfortable around me, I am a welcome distraction for the moms to get away for a little and I can hang out with the women because they think I am good with kids and therefore a real woman. So now after doing laundry, making Shea, weighing babies, and getting in with the kids, I think relationships are coming much faster and easier. Thank god. It would suck to friendless for 2 years. And that would hardly make me an effective volunteer. And I forgot to say that in the afternoons when I used to be bored, now I have a regular English club for an hour of 2 with the 2 boys near me who are so cute and eager to learn, and the annoying creepy guy but the other boys don’t like him either so maybe he will get the hint sooner. But this one boy named Modybo is 18 and going back to Bamako for school in early October, so we decided that every afternoon till then we would get in at least an hour of English review. He is so good after just 4 years and definitely one of my favorite people in this village.
And a week from Friday I get to go into Bamako. I am happy here actually, I feel comfortable and am making groups of friends now, but I cannot wait for some tubab time. Right now I am feeling good but I know there will be a few dips before October first. I am so happy with the people in my region and I can’t wait to see them all. And from there, 2 months of intense site time… minus Halloween/my friend’s birthday and thanksgiving, which I am hoping to get invited to the embassy for. I hear their pies are to die for. And then after thanksgiving… freedom!!!! 2 weeks of IST in tubaniso and then I am a free volunteer, free to travel and visit friends and I will maybe even be able to speak Bambara by then. Then I can get some projects up and running before February when I go to Senegal for WAST. And looks like I will be going home to London slash wandering Europe to visit my sister in Dresden or meet her somewhere so friends, if you are in Europe next summer, let me know! I am going to take the GRE from somewhere in Europe because it is annoying to take in Mali, they only offer it twice a year and its paper form which I hear is easier but the dates are bad. This way if I can or want to, I can enter grad school fall 2012. University of Washington in Seattle is my top choice right now, global health is really big out there and they have a whole new program that started in 2007. I feel like I have already talked about this so I apologize but I am really excited and I hear that being a returned Peace Corps volunteer out there is awesome and there are tons. And regardless, I just always wanted to live there so I may as well start fresh out there for a little. We will see. But it’s fun to plan.
Things that are getting really annoying- little kids bringing their siblings into a 10 meter radius of my presence just to get them to cry and then laugh at them. GET USED TO IT. And then they talk about me and things and look at me and laugh and assume I can’t understand and it’s rude and frustrating. I am tired of always playing the fool and providing comic relief. Along the language issue line, my teacher and his colleagues have conversations in Bambara, even though both speak French, about birth control and interesting things but I can’t understand anything but the names of medicines that they drop and can’t participate at all. Ugh. But for god’s sake, a tubab has lived in this house for 5 going on 6 years… along those lines the thought is just reinforced at how stubborn these people are and how hard it will be to change anything. I mean my host family, who has had a health volunteer living here for the last 5 years still doesn’t wash their hands before eating. Even when I am with them and they know they should. And kids still don’t use negens, ever. Actually no one does for that matter but at least adults go deep into the corn fields. NO WONDER OUR WATER IS COMTAMINATED AND ALL KIDS HAVE DIAHREA ALL THE TIME! AHHH. This could be a long 2 years. I have already had multiple people barrage me for tubab medicines and special presents from Bamako but come on. It doesn’t bother me so much when Its random people who have nothing to lose but even my teachers wife has literally given me a shopping list of expensive things like coffee and the nice powdered milk to buy her. How many times do I have to say I AM NOT MADE OF MONEY? I am not going to buy respect and friendship. Of course, the problem is that this fact isn’t really true. Relatively, I am made of money and in certain situations, like a sick poor child or a good friend; I will buy presents or pay for medical care. But that isn’t sustainable in the least. Ethical dilemmas plague my mind all day long.
Anyways, sorry to vent. The other day was really great. Every Thursday is market day in the town 4 k from me. This is also where the CSCOM is and most of my teachers colleagues. So I rode my bike while Fode rode his old motorcycle next to me into town. We went to the CSCOM and then Fode left… so I was wandering around hanging out with this one nice doctor. But we did some baby checkups and it was really sad and hard to be there for. The mothers are always so young and quiet and especially this one little girl, her skin was just hanging off her and wrinkling everywhere. I don’t know what she had, maybe marasmus (spelling?) and severe malnutrition but her mom was healthy and had breast milk so I don’t know. He eyes looked really cloudy so that’s scary. To be blind in Mali would be nearly a death sentence. For that matter, any issue apart from normalcy is tough. There are a few older mentally handicapped people here and it is really hard for them and their families. In most situations, the person is forced to go to Bamako, since it is a capital city and that is where most other physically or mentally handicapped people go. Not for the government programs obviously but just because it is easier to hide, blend in. Just as it is in all countries, people flock to the cities. Then he introduced me to the matron and she was doing some prenatal consultations. Thursdays are huge because all the women come to market so they normally go to the CSCOM then if they need to. And it is also PNC day. Unfortunately, as usual something conflicted so there weren’t too many pregnant women there. The 50th Malian independence anniversary was the day before so women were still busy cooking and things. But the pictures I got from that are unreal and I will write about it later. But anyways, I sat with this young matron all morning and helped test women for malaria, take information and measurements, and hand out medications. It was really cool. She also worked with the 2 volunteers before me and she said that they could do the PNCs by themselves sometimes. And it’s also good because she gets it, and knows what I can and cannot do I think. Bed side manner is pretty nonexistent here. She didn’t do introductions, jabbed shots into their arm reaching across her desk to where they were sitting without swabbing the area first, and didn’t hide her frustrations from one patient to the next. Sometimes she would pull out the needle too fast and the tetanus vaccine would just be dripping down their arm but she didn’t care and obviously the women didn’t say anything. She ever wore gloves either but she did at least put all the needles in a bow to burn later and she did use a new needle every time so that was good. Pretty much all the materials in the CSCOM are donated by everyone from UNICEF to IPPF so I am not sure if they ever suffer shortages, but I would imagine they must and the pressure to conserve materials is definitely present. But then after the PNCs were done I went with Fode to this lady named Suzanne’s house to have lunch and hang out. She is really fun and cool and so interesting. She sends her kids to university in Bamako, boys and girls, believes in family planning and birth control, and is a working woman. I cannot wait to talk to her more. She is so cute too and asking me all these questions and it was so fun. It was just like we had been friends forever and were gossiping about friend’s ad kids and husbands and boyfriends and why we thought the other was prettier hahaha true story. So I will definitley be spending every Thursday afternoon at her house, maybe I can even spend the night sometimes just for fun and to get some alone time with her. She is going to teach me how to cook too. I am bummed though because on Thursday I am going to Bamako so I can’t go to her house but every Thursday I can, I will be there. It’s too bad because they have already had their allotted 3 health volunteers so there is currently no volunteer there, or even within a 2 hour radius of me. But I am hoping that Peace Corps will put one near me in the new stage in February. Man I can’t get over how cool it is to be a part of peace corps- such an incredible organization. Anyways, that thought just popped into my head.
Yesterday during my afternoon English chub with my neighbor we had an interesting conversation about his feelings towards France, China, and Arab investors. He said that first of all, he strongly dislikes France and Sarkozy. He is a really smart kid but no matter what, he says that unless he was the presidents kid or very wealthy, that there is now way France is ever going to let him in to study live or work. He hates the idea of colonization and thinks that France threw Mali under the bus. He says, if you notice, that there are no French NGOs working here. And it’s true. All the NGOs are American and Arab he says, and all the new roads and development is being done by china. He says that china and America are his best friends and he does not question Chinas motives, no matter how hard I pushed him with questions to say otherwise. I continued this conversation Fode during dinner and he said the same thing. We also had a really interesting conversation about marriage ceremonies and the lead up to them and how it differs from Mali. He thought it was hilarious that no dowries of any sort were paid. I said that in England most people don’t even bother getting married anymore, since it is a religious ceremony and there aren’t that many differences in government benefits for the single and married. He scowled at his but he is all for his daughters choosing their own husbands, with his approval of course, but he has the same opinions as my parents basically on the matter. His daughters are very lucky to have him as their father. Who knows what the neighbors daughters will have to go through to marry who they want.
I have a current plan of action. While I cannot start projects until January or ask for funding, I have a tentative list of projects. First of all, tomorrow Fode and I are going to build a mud stove in his compound. Unlike open stoves (3 rocks to lace the bowl on above an open fire) these mud stoves use less wood, heat food faster, reduce the work load of collecting wood for women, and reduce deforestation. There was apparently an NGO that came here to build those years ago and Fode was the main presenter. So when I said that I wanted to do that today, before I knew how involved h had been with the idea in the past, he was ecstatic. We use the dirt from old termite mounds though so I am definitely not looking forward to collecting the dirt. Also, I plan to treat and shock wells. During rainy season especially, wells can be very dirty. Last year there was a cholera epidemic about 3 hours from here so when I told Fode this idea, he was again very excited about it. By treating and shocking wells we can increase the amount of safe water around here and hopefully reduce the number of people who chronically suffer from diarrhea and dehydration as a result of this. A bigger project idea is to do some cervical cancer awareness programs and have the doctor in my town become trained. There is a very inexpensive way to visually check for precancerous cells that another volunteer a few hours north of me has developed so I am going to email her for some documents in Bambara on the matter so I can explain it more in depth to Fode. He was really excited about the new project idea though and had never even heard of cervical cancer and was alarmed by the statistics that do exist in Mali. We are also going to plant fruit bearing trees around the maternity to subsidize the nutrition for children and pregnant women. I need some money to build a fence though to keep out animals so this may have to wait a while but we have started planting seeds in plastic bags to get the baby trees going. We are also going to do some well top repairs to fix the wells whose walls are caving in. If we cement it, less debris and dirt will fall in; it will be cleaner, and safer. Small children and animals won’t fall in. Also, starting in mid October, I am going to buy paint just with my own money and paint a mural at the school. I am going to do Mali, Africa, and the world on 3 different walls. Fode is excited about this too. So far so good! Day to day things are pretty slow but in the long run, things will happen fast. Aside from these projects, I plan to do monthly baby weighing and follow up formations once every 2 weeks or so on health lessons. I am not yet sure who my audience will be but I haven’t met the women’s groups yet so maybe they will help. But in my audience will at least be the children and their families in the yellow and red zones. I also plan to do a HEARTH pretty soon but not till January maybe. But until then, I keep forgetting about my baseline survey where I talk to each family in my town about health issues. I observe their cooking habits, negen use, and ask if they are aware of STDs and proper weaning practices and such to gage what things are most urgently need around here. And Fode wants to do some AIDS stuff but he says that people always refuse to get tested so for now I will just focus on prevention and erasing the stigma and fear from the topic.
Also, on a very important note- today the subject of circumcision came up and not only does my town apparently not excise its women, they also apparently use a different blade for each boy that they circumcise. Way to go- now I just hope that this is true. He said that not only is the practice gone but it is also illegal. It is not illegal in Mali, only in government funded hospitals, so maybe I mistranslated his French/Bambara. But I just hope that it is true and that they practice what they preach and brag about to the tubabs. Fode is the coolest guy. I just could not have more respect for him. There is no conversation that is off limits and he is so so so smart and passionate about helping this community. I don’t know what this place would be without him.
Arrived in Bamako today after 3 weeks at site! WOO HOO I did it! Next time I will break it up with a visit to my site buddy and spend the night up there, but it’s about a 3 hour bike ride. And I’ll definitely be spending more time at this lady’s house 4 k away to detox and hang with some of her kids who are my age. (Prime suspects for my family planning brainwashing scheme!) But they probably already get it from their mom so I can ask them about their friends and how it is to grow up in Mali with liberal parents versus the alternatives. But, today was as usual absolutely ridiculous. There is nothing typical about public transport except that one thing stays constant- you will always be taken care of no matter what and you can definitely trust the drivers to get you where you’re going no matter what. Now maybe this isnt all drivers, but the ones who I take, everyone in my town knows them so they have a checks and balance system of sorts. So the plan was that I was going to go to Fodes house at 5 and wait for the bush taxi that would come at maybe 5 30. But Fode shows up at my window at 4 am, scares me half to death, and as I round up my things he says it’s time to go. About 3 minutes after he whispers in my window, I hear the honking of the bush taxi as it rolls through town. So we run over and load my things inside. This one actually has rows of seats parallel to the steering wheel instead of along the edges of the hollowed out van!! And something that relatively looks and feels like a cushion! Too bad there was a guy next to me who has obviously smoked a pack of cigs every day for the past 90 years who didn’t know the meaning of personal space and refused to stay on his side, but what can you do. Gotta pick your battles around here and on a bush taxi on the border of Guinea at 4 am where no one speaks English, he was as good a friend as I could ask for. So we bustle along the road in the darkness shifting gears as though we were on a paved road but instead we would shift up and down every 4 seconds which could explain the problems that we encountered 4 hours later. So we travel 1 k towards Bamako to get people. Then we turn around going back towards my town, away from Bamako… pick up people in my town and head towards guinea, through my market town where we get people and then keep going… towards guinea. At this point I am a little concerned because PC is currently not working in guinea because of security issues, I believe. But after a few more kilometers, we turn north… literally into the bush. I confirm with my new friends that we are in fact going to Bamako and not leaving the country and they give me the classic “you silly tubab laugh” and say that of course we are. This road is literally in the bush though. Not even one lane, with golden head high grasses on either side… I was in Tanzania in a game reserve in national geographic. It was actually quite beautiful, especially 2 and a half hours later when the sun started to rise. So now it is 7 am. Fode told me that if you catch the 4 am bush taxi then you get to Bamako at 7 am. Minutes later I find myself on the highway. Looking back, I know what he did- he went north through the bush for 3 hours because the road parallel to my road is paved and ours is not. So maybe he thought this would save time since the president is coming near my town tomorrow and maybe he thought the road was already closed. But this morning, this thought had not yet occurred to me and I had no idea where I was or what was going on, as usual. The car is vibrating like a ride at Disneyland but this one isn’t safe the water that splashes up through the floors when you hit puddles may have diseases. I just pray that we make it to Bamako, no matter how slow, every time we stop and have to push start the car again. Eventually, expectedly, the car dies. It is makes dying sounds and I’m concerned about carbon monoxcide because I had just read that scene from Slaughterhouse 5. So… I have no idea where we are, kids have gathered to look at me from behind bushes, some daring to near the tubab exhibit that has visited their town. We ironically break down next to a CSCOM so I took the opportunity to look around and greet the doctors. Nice office. Creepy posters, as usual. This is definitely not a good place for a hypochondriac (I have been having problems with this lately… but time will ease it off). So we wait around and I wonder what the protocol for this is, as they take apart the engine but I figure the driver knows what to do. Eventually he takes our money and then we wait for another bus, to which he gives the stack of money and we all head in. Sad day for a bush taxi driver. So we finish out the ride smoothly and arrive in Bamako about 7 hours after it began. Not bad, I would say. People here are just so friendly and trustworthy that even though there were a few times today when I was pissed off, it is a beautiful country. These guys have my back a hell of a lot more than the bus drivers in Copenhagen ever did.

In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, “so it goes”

According to common myth and totem religion that some people in my village follow, Traores don’t eat panthers. And Kieta’s don’t eat hippos. In case I have already said this, my name here for these 2 years is Awa Traore. I have heard anyone call me Emily or spoke English face to face in a LONG TIME.
I spent the last week in Bamako waiting for the rain to stop and then the end of Ramadan came so I had to wait for that to be over too because my driver had to go to parties and public transport isn’t running because the road is too bad. But the week in Bamako was awesome! I didn’t realize how cool of a city it is. Things are starting to make sense in my head; I am starting to get a sense of direction around there. Hanging out with PCVs is really nice too because then I learn the secrets of Bamako, vacations, and Peace Corps life in general. I know what things bother them, what to expect around my one year mark, and that I definitely want to go somewhere with my family at the one year mark. Maybe visit Lars in Dresden, take the GREs somewhere in Europe, and then travel with my parents. Good time to leave and come back.
Today was funny. So weird. Such an emotional rollercoaster. I thought I felt something earlier but once I got to site, I was hit with a million thoughts. There was a moment when I was like ok; this is it- I can turn around, now or never. Then there were times I just wanted to cry and other times that I couldn’t have been happier.
I am their doll. The dress me up, parade me around in their headscarves and outfits, tell me what to say, pet me and play with my hair. It’s hilarious. It’s hot though. And I hope I don’t have skin diseases.
I forgot how beautiful this place is. The night sky is mind blowing. The hills and greenery. Am I really in Africa? Am I anywhere? It’s weird. Seeing a place on a globe for so long and then actually being in such an odd place. Mali of all places. The people here are wonderful. I can’t wait for my family to visit. My friends here are really excited too. They asked about it again today. I totally forgot that I had said something about my family visiting a few times in the next 2 years the last time I was here. Everyone is so happy to see me. I’m glad they think I have something to offer, because without their faith I would just leave. I’m not sure how I am actually going to help them. Sure, my presence is fun and great, but someone is paying me to do something here. Something tangible. So many ideas.
Tomorrow is September 11th. I wonder if people here know about it. I know I have read in blogs that some people’s villages didn’t know about it, and when they told them, everyone cried and was so upset. Today I was talking to my APCD about how this guy in Gainesville planning to burn Korans is a complete idiot. He is putting me and every other American working in a Muslim country in not only an awkward position but also at risk. But my APCCD was so mad. I actually regretted bringing it up, he got really heated. It started with me asking him if I should be concerned for my safety. He said no but then went off on how the terrorists are not Muslim and how this guy is not a Christian. He had good points, I totally agreed with him. It was a really interesting conversation.
Third night at site. September 11th went by without incident. I was worried. I didn’t bring it up around anyone though. I assume most know it happened. Today was a mile stone. I had been feeling awkward and useless but today I broke the barrier with 3 women in my neighborhood, one could say, and now I feel like it will be easier to hang out with them and form relationships where I could influence them positively and change behavior. I am bummed though because my very pregnant neighbor had her kid while I was gone… I missed it by 2 days. I was totally hoping that they would get me from my house next store so I could see the process and learn about what behaviors may need to be changed, like do they breast feed right after or wash the baby right after. But there are other pregnant women around so I will have to hang out with them. But her new son is so cute and today when I was waiting for my friend to call she asked if I could take pictures. I did and I definitely plan on getting them developed in Bamako and giving them to her. So is the most adorable woman, actually I know 3 women here who just make me smile. I am glad though, excited to form deeper prelateships. And I got to talk to my friend about their experience so far, it was so refreshing to talk to another Peace Corps volunteer from site. I had talked to my friend while I was still in Bamako and she said she had already weighed babies… I don’t think I will be doing that soon. But I have plans to start a baby weighing circle in collaboration with a women’s group but my language skills aren’t there yet. Maybe Fode can help me draft a speech. He I too kind though. Always trying to give me things from his own home and offering to tutor me for free once I pass the 30 hours that Peace Corps will pay for. Everyone here is too kind; they would give me the clothes off their backs if I said I liked them.

Oh man, today was yet another emotional rollercoaster. It started off well enough, heavy rains since 4 am meant a slow morning so I took advantage of that. I had a leisurely breakfast and a little after 8 30, I wandered to Fodes house. Fode is my teacher/friend if I haven’t mentioned that already. He is great, my saving grace. Doesn’t do enough for me to prevent pangs of loneliness, but today was the first time I felt lonely so I guess that pretty good considering I have been here a few days now. But we did our usual tutoring at the school, walked around town, had tea 9 million times, talked to some people, and looked in the maternity. Today was different though because we made plans. We are going to weigh babies on Monday, I can’t wait. And Thursday we are walking 4 K to a nearby town to go to the CSCOM and market day. So then I will meet some people and maybe feel like a health educator and not just a random seemingly stupid tubab. Who hangs around, butchering their language every chance I get. So then it was lunch time, I got stuck eating with a bunch of men, and I was the only one who washed my hands. Ugh. We share a communal bowl for symbolism… and as much as I try to only eat parts that I think haven’t been contaminated with the fecal oral cycle, it is impossible because they do me the favor of stirring my portion around because it’s hot food. AHHH. So after eating a little and then running into my house and stuffing a snickers into my body in less than 30 seconds, I mosey back out and then go to another luncheon. We eat fish. This is fine, till I found out today that they prepare the fish the night before and they don’t have refrigerators. And yesterday I drank cow’s milk by accident. I thought it was powered milk so as I was drinking it I said I like powdered milk, and they were like ‘oh no! Don’t worry! Its cow milk!’ Well, aren’t I lucky. So hopefully they boiled that for the full 3 minutes or else I could have bovine tuberculosis. Yet the 9 millionth time of the day where I just smile and curse under my breath. Then I wander around some more, speaking Bambara in a town where they speak Malinke, and look at some people killing a cow. I told Fode about it later and he said that he doesn’t eat meat, that cow was sick so that’s why they killed it and that’s why they were selling the meat. Super. So I guess unrefrigerated fish and bovine TB it is, because mad cow is probably a disease I will avoid. So then after my lunches I say I’m going to shower, which I haven’t done since arriving here but I use the excuse like 5 times I day to leave, and my homologue follows me into my house and sits down. I can never understand here. She must speak Malinke. I can’t even speak Bambara. So I give her a copy of people magazine and I read my book. She thinks my trashy magazines are hilarious so that’s good. So we sit like that for an hour and then she gets up and starts weeding my yard. So I join her, I guess that’s their way of telling me that my house looks like trailer trash. All the other women are like ‘wow, Awa Traore does yard work!’ so they all line up and tell me how great it is that I’m cleaning and the little kids peer through the cracks. Then my homologue leaves so I finish my book about the PC volunteer in Cote d’ivoire and depression strikes. She talks about how much she did there as a healht volunteer. So I wander around for a second before realizing I am defiantly not in the mood for chatting in Bambara and start reading the journal that the 2 girls before me left. That was a horrible idea, because in the midst of all their accomplishment they chronicle their frustrations, and then I sink deeper. So I call my parents and they are biking in France with friends and looking at castles and I lookout my door at the baby goat eating my Chaco and consider beating it. But I don’t. Instead I take pictures of the new born next door because she loves that. That is a mood lifter for like a second. It seems like I do a lot in my days but really I just do a lot of thinking, planning for things that are a month away, and wishing I could speak Bambara. I know they want me here, but man, I just feel worthless sometimes. But in the end, it’s the people that I value, not the place. So I gotta make some friends. I have been trying to become friends with my neighbor and her new born, so that’s going well. And the boy who lives next door to me and I are going to start English lessons tomorrow afternoon so that’s good. But I don’t know. At dinner I was basically one second away from just crying so I didn’t know what to do so I basically asked Fode for his life story so that I wouldn’t have to talk and sitting in silence was too painful, he could tell my head was a million miles away. I feel so removed. But then the conversation got good, and I asked him if the maternity in this town sells birth control, and he said it does. Fode is awesome. No conversation of off limits with him. He said that all women get BC for 3 months after a delivery and that many continue, with getting the shot. He said that his wife has been getting them for years. That’s great, but what am I supposed to do here? Women already know everything. I’m not going to be able to blow their minds with new knowledge. Changing behavior is great and all but it’s intangible. Sleeping will be hard tonight. When do I get a weekend? I was talking to my friend the other day and said I could see myself being a site rat, staying here for long period’s f time. But days like today, I really need a friend. It’s lonely as hell here sometimes. I feel so so so alone. Maybe it’s just today, I mean today if the first time that the feeling has struck, but man, I need a site mate who is closer. I can’t even visit my site mate till after rainy season because the road is too bad. So I’m stuck here. Day in and day out, no weekend, no time alone. Alone in my head. I would call a friend but most don’t have service and I don’t want to depend on others. Only 2 weeks till the week long language training with friends at tubaniso. But god, that’s far away when there is no escape, no weekend, no movie night. Day by day. These first 3 months are hard because PC is riding our backs making us stay at site all the time to make us integrate. Sue it’s a great idea, and I guess it doesn’t really matter for me because I live on an impossible road anyways so I am isolated by rainy season. But god, I need s break. Though I may seem miserable right now, I am still glad to be in this situation. I am happy to be pushing myself. I want to push myself. I love the friends I have made so far and the relationships and experiences even in the past 3 days are invaluable. And I have already overcome obstacles. But god, I could use a Bamako night.
Ok, things obviously got better. What a depressing day. I can’t even really remember why I was so upset. But I was moping around this afternoon, had just got back to my hut after lunch for the start of another lazy afternoon. I really wanted to break the habit. I got a text from a friend when I turned my phone on and it was about how happy he was and how he was on an awesome bike ride. It whipped me into shape, I realized that if I am going to turn my mood around, then I have to be active, I can’t just sit around. So I hooked my iPod up to my speakers and cleaned my house and started organizing my shelves. Just as I was finishing, my host mom person comes in. Perfect timing. I invite her to sit and she stays for a while. We read magazines, talk about my planes for baby weighing, and talk about her kids and things. Then the creepy guy comes back. While she is in my hut. Which was good maybe, because hopefully she could see that he isn’t my friend. I just stood in the door way and talked to him without inviting him in. Eventually he got the hint that he wasn’t coming in so he left reluctantly after I said goodbye like 5 times. After he left I asked my host mom about him and made it clear that I didn’t know or like him. Apparently he is from guinea and is a sort of migrant worker. So that explains why no one knows him. And makes him even creepier. I was stupid though, when he asked if I wanted to walk around that evening, I said I couldn’t because I was eating dinner with Fode and his family. So then later on today when I went to Fodes house, the creepy guy was there. Ugh. I hate this guy. So I talked to Fode and said look, he came over again, I don’t like or know him and I don’t want people thinking that he is my boyfriend. So Fode gets it but I’m still not sure. I'm not going to allow myself to put up with this like Malian women, it’s not ok but it’s hard not to be polite.
But then later on this evening I found the key to success. If I want to change behavior, I have to make friends and have good conversations and set an example. And today I got invited to cook with Fodes wife and his daughter. Hello beginning of a relationship. But unfortunately, both his oldest daughters got to boarding school in Bamako. Bummer. I would have loved to become close with them.
Today was a big day. It is the 16th of September. Not only is the big 50th Malian anniversary of independence from France in 6 days, (and I have a special outfit made with 50th anniversary fabric) but I went to the market in my market town 4 k away and went to the main CSCOM of the area. In case of emergency patients go 25 k to the bigger CSCOM of the area, in an ambulance donated by an English NGO (the driver is on the wrong side ahahah) but for my village and about 5 others, this CSCOM is it. I had met one of the doctors before; he is young and animated and seems really really great. He is happy and energetic and really fun to be around. Now if only I could communicate with him. I think he speaks French but I was kind of shell-shocked, meeting 9 million people and absorbing so much that I couldn’t formulate any sentences in French so I just stuck to my basic Bambara. There is a prenatal consultation room, a birthing room, a rest room (for a few hours after delivery… A FEW HOURS??! In France you get a week after delivery covered by insurance in the hospital.) A pharmacy room and a consultation room. All the doors lead to the front porch and there is a littering of NGO given flyers in French, good idea guys, about what vaccines are important and why you should use condoms. I also met a matron. I have a hard time shaking these women’s hands because I know that they profit from female circumcision- in most cases, they reform it, and make money off it. I saw in town today a sign in French from an NGO saying that only 70% of girls between 0 an d4 years were circumcised in 2008. This is great and all, but I know that in some cases girls are circumcised 3 days before their wedding- so is that other 30% just being circumcised later? Excuse my word choice- I can’t believe I called it circumcision- female genital mutilation is more accurate but around here, not only am I not allowed to talk about, but when I do, I have to ‘sensitive’. AHHH some things around here are just so frustrating. In Cote d’ivoire, one main reason that the practice continues is because women believe that if they aren’t circumcised, that sorcerers will kill their babies. SORCERERS?!?!? I mean many can’t understand science so it makes sense for them but I just want to bash my head against the wall. But I need to get over myself and work with the ‘sorcerers’. For example, I can tell them that the only a sorcerer can’t give you aids is if you wear a condom. But misinformation is misinformation and it’s hard.
Tomorrow will be good though because I am going to a meeting at the mayor’s office with the chiefs of the surrounding 8 ish villages about what kind of projects they have in mind for the next year. This will be a good basis from which I can launch my baseline survey next month, and just a good reader on what they need and if they see me as a money bank. I have been reading the journal that the girls who volunteered before me left, and they both expressed frustrations about this issue. But in the end, in a way I am a money bank, and if they can match with labor and enthusiasm and effort, then I am more than willing to find funds. Today they had a party planning meeting for the events of the coming week to celebrate the 50th anniversary. I am not allowed to go to Bamako to celebrate, because of the threat of riots (have I already said this) but I don’t mind. In case I haven’t- people are mad because they say "c’est pour nous", it is for us, but in reality, the only people benefiting from the 50th anniversary and all the new roads and monuments that the Chinese are building are rich people. Their nearly nonexistent school system isn’t being revamped and they certainly aren’t reforming welfare or the health care system. Not that I’m comparing or anything.
The last 3 days have been awesome. But a precursor note- it is mid afternoon and I just walked home from my teachers house so I could eat some of my American food stash (thanks again SO MUCH those of you who sent packages!!!!) but I walked by this kid absolutely crying hysterically and running, looking back at this guy who works in the bike shop who was carrying a switch, a little tree branch. Who knows what this kid did but it was really scary. I think he thought the guy wouldn’t hurt him if he was near me so he kind of stayed close which was good. The kid kept running though and then I watched as the guy turned around and walked away. I know people here threaten kids a lot, and I know they probably beat them, but it’s a concept I can’t get my head around to accept as something that actually happens. So then I went to my bathroom and saw him sitting there on the other side of the bushes crying. His back was to me but he was still very rattled, it’s a different kind of crying than the kind that kids do for show. He took off his shirt and his back was destroyed. He had literal whip lashing welts all over his lower and upper back. The skin wasn’t broken on all of them but I don’t know what to do. Should I have called him over and into my house? Probably, I regret not doing so now. But he was a boy of probably 12 and he probably would have been too embarrassed but ah I am so mad at myself for not taking him into my house, teaching him that it’s ok to cry, bandaging him, and letting him know that it was wrong of that man to do that. I’m so mad at myself now. Opportunity missed. Next time, I will act.
But anyways, 2 days ago was a meeting at the mayor’s office 4 k away. We went on our bikes in the morning, left at 9 for meeting that started at 10 that obviously didn’t get rolling till around 11 and then the power went out which added some time to fix the generator and then the meeting lasted till 5 pm at which point we left because it was raining really hard and getting dark…. Fun bike ride. It actually was really nice. But this meeting was interesting to say the least. There were about 20 old men, a few from each of the surrounding villages of about 1500 people or less. The meetings purpose was to update statistics on population, school location, building collapse in the rainy season, accessibility, and needs. All the men were old I wonder If things were altered by my tubab woman presence. The meeting started in Bambara, shifted into French, to impress me probably, then the old men would yell at the presenter to switch back to Bambara, at which point I would be completely lost yet again. But then after lunch which came the typical and expected 2 hours late, we got the generator running and all the word documents were in French so that was good. The needs part was interesting though, to see what types of things people wanted for their towns and what issues concerned them most- granted, this was a group of only men. The women’s needs would have been much different and I would have loved to hear them. But on that note, there is a women’s group here who I am going to meet with and also a Shea butter cooperative group, who I plan to meet with and start an income generating project, maybe to fund a garden or something. But back to the meeting- it was pretty frustrating to see that men wanted electricity, cell phone service, and other things like this. Sure, electricity would light up the streets, but what appliances do they need to plug in? Who is going to pay the bills? The road is too bad tot even get street lamp poles down to these villages. If I could do them one huge favor, it would be pave the roads. Then they could get things to markets easier. It would also be to get women bikes to ride to the markets and not let the men hog them all day to ride to their friends houses and to ride to the store to buy tea. Or even better, for the kid that they send to the store to buy tea to ride the bike. But I know a lot of non profits use bikes as rewards for coming to school and such- if any reading this knows of a nonprofit that gives out bikes- let me know what it is. I want to get some bikes here. The walk to market isn’t too bad but it would be better and more profitable with bikes.
Being that this is the third poorest country in the world, the issue trickles down into the fact that even if I could get supplies for the school, there aren’t enough jobs available so the kids are expected to fail out before high school… which, in full circle form, brings us back to the problem that this is the third poorest country in the world. I have been seeing a lot of negative things left behind from colonialism lately, one of which is the school system. I definitely plan to work in the school in my area. We will have a biology day and even if it doesn’t fit into their curriculum, I as a tubab am the only person who can demonstrate condom use on a wooden phallus without being scorned by the community and lord knows the kids will remember this lesson.
Today I weighed babies. Over the few hours we sat under the straw awning, we weighed 50 babies, all under 5. Baby weighing was great but it brings a few issues to light. One is that if women here don’t register their babies, not only are they not allowed access to government programs, but then the mothers also don’t know how old their kid is which hurts the accuracy of my baby weighing. And like I said earlier, sometimes just looking isn’t enough; normal looking kids can be in the red zone. But baby weighing was awesome and made me think that I might actually be a useful presence around here. When I get back from tubaniso in mid October I am going to do a follow up weighing to see if my advice helped and then have a follow up meeting form mothers of kids in red and yellow zones on how to add oil to food to make it fattier. And a lesson about increasing protein intake and how to keep themselves healthy while breastfeeding. And maybe there is a way to make women whose breasts have stopped producing milk start again, because it is really painful to see little kids who should be breast feeding not be because their mom is so malnourished that she can’t produce milk. Turns into a potential death sentence for the baby. There is no money to buy powdered milk and the water here is dirty anyways so it’s a problem. But then this afternoon after lunch I hung around my teacher’s house with the women. I finally got in with them. I made Shea butter with them yesterday morning for a few hours and today had a nail painting party for like 15 little kids and then took my camera out so now not only are the kids more comfortable around me, I am a welcome distraction for the moms to get away for a little and I can hang out with the women because they think I am good with kids and therefore a real woman. So now after doing laundry, making Shea, weighing babies, and getting in with the kids, I think relationships are coming much faster and easier. Thank god. It would suck to friendless for 2 years. And that would hardly make me an effective volunteer. And I forgot to say that in the afternoons when I used to be bored, now I have a regular English club for an hour of 2 with the 2 boys near me who are so cute and eager to learn, and the annoying creepy guy but the other boys don’t like him either so maybe he will get the hint sooner. But this one boy named Modybo is 18 and going back to Bamako for school in early October, so we decided that every afternoon till then we would get in at least an hour of English review. He is so good after just 4 years and definitely one of my favorite people in this village.
And a week from Friday I get to go into Bamako. I am happy here actually, I feel comfortable and am making groups of friends now, but I cannot wait for some tubab time. Right now I am feeling good but I know there will be a few dips before October first. I am so happy with the people in my region and I can’t wait to see them all. And from there, 2 months of intense site time… minus Halloween/my friend’s birthday and thanksgiving, which I am hoping to get invited to the embassy for. I hear their pies are to die for. And then after thanksgiving… freedom!!!! 2 weeks of IST in tubaniso and then I am a free volunteer, free to travel and visit friends and I will maybe even be able to speak Bambara by then. Then I can get some projects up and running before February when I go to Senegal for WAST. And looks like I will be going home to London slash wandering Europe to visit my sister in Dresden or meet her somewhere so friends, if you are in Europe next summer, let me know! I am going to take the GRE from somewhere in Europe because it is annoying to take in Mali, they only offer it twice a year and its paper form which I hear is easier but the dates are bad. This way if I can or want to, I can enter grad school fall 2012. University of Washington in Seattle is my top choice right now, global health is really big out there and they have a whole new program that started in 2007. I feel like I have already talked about this so I apologize but I am really excited and I hear that being a returned Peace Corps volunteer out there is awesome and there are tons. And regardless, I just always wanted to live there so I may as well start fresh out there for a little. We will see. But it’s fun to plan.
Things that are getting really annoying- little kids bringing their siblings into a 10 meter radius of my presence just to get them to cry and then laugh at them. GET USED TO IT. And then they talk about me and things and look at me and laugh and assume I can’t understand and it’s rude and frustrating. I am tired of always playing the fool and providing comic relief. Along the language issue line, my teacher and his colleagues have conversations in Bambara, even though both speak French, about birth control and interesting things but I can’t understand anything but the names of medicines that they drop and can’t participate at all. Ugh. But for god’s sake, a tubab has lived in this house for 5 going on 6 years… along those lines the thought is just reinforced at how stubborn these people are and how hard it will be to change anything. I mean my host family, who has had a health volunteer living here for the last 5 years still doesn’t wash their hands before eating. Even when I am with them and they know they should. And kids still don’t use negens, ever. Actually no one does for that matter but at least adults go deep into the corn fields. NO WONDER OUR WATER IS COMTAMINATED AND ALL KIDS HAVE DIAHREA ALL THE TIME! AHHH. This could be a long 2 years. I have already had multiple people barrage me for tubab medicines and special presents from Bamako but come on. It doesn’t bother me so much when Its random people who have nothing to lose but even my teachers wife has literally given me a shopping list of expensive things like coffee and the nice powdered milk to buy her. How many times do I have to say I AM NOT MADE OF MONEY? I am not going to buy respect and friendship. Of course, the problem is that this fact isn’t really true. Relatively, I am made of money and in certain situations, like a sick poor child or a good friend; I will buy presents or pay for medical care. But that isn’t sustainable in the least. Ethical dilemmas plague my mind all day long.
Anyways, sorry to vent. The other day was really great. Every Thursday is market day in the town 4 k from me. This is also where the CSCOM is and most of my teachers colleagues. So I rode my bike while Fode rode his old motorcycle next to me into town. We went to the CSCOM and then Fode left… so I was wandering around hanging out with this one nice doctor. But we did some baby checkups and it was really sad and hard to be there for. The mothers are always so young and quiet and especially this one little girl, her skin was just hanging off her and wrinkling everywhere. I don’t know what she had, maybe marasmus (spelling?) and severe malnutrition but her mom was healthy and had breast milk so I don’t know. He eyes looked really cloudy so that’s scary. To be blind in Mali would be nearly a death sentence. For that matter, any issue apart from normalcy is tough. There are a few older mentally handicapped people here and it is really hard for them and their families. In most situations, the person is forced to go to Bamako, since it is a capital city and that is where most other physically or mentally handicapped people go. Not for the government programs obviously but just because it is easier to hide, blend in. Just as it is in all countries, people flock to the cities. Then he introduced me to the matron and she was doing some prenatal consultations. Thursdays are huge because all the women come to market so they normally go to the CSCOM then if they need to. And it is also PNC day. Unfortunately, as usual something conflicted so there weren’t too many pregnant women there. The 50th Malian independence anniversary was the day before so women were still busy cooking and things. But the pictures I got from that are unreal and I will write about it later. But anyways, I sat with this young matron all morning and helped test women for malaria, take information and measurements, and hand out medications. It was really cool. She also worked with the 2 volunteers before me and she said that they could do the PNCs by themselves sometimes. And it’s also good because she gets it, and knows what I can and cannot do I think. Bed side manner is pretty nonexistent here. She didn’t do introductions, jabbed shots into their arm reaching across her desk to where they were sitting without swabbing the area first, and didn’t hide her frustrations from one patient to the next. Sometimes she would pull out the needle too fast and the tetanus vaccine would just be dripping down their arm but she didn’t care and obviously the women didn’t say anything. She ever wore gloves either but she did at least put all the needles in a bow to burn later and she did use a new needle every time so that was good. Pretty much all the materials in the CSCOM are donated by everyone from UNICEF to IPPF so I am not sure if they ever suffer shortages, but I would imagine they must and the pressure to conserve materials is definitely present. But then after the PNCs were done I went with Fode to this lady named Suzanne’s house to have lunch and hang out. She is really fun and cool and so interesting. She sends her kids to university in Bamako, boys and girls, believes in family planning and birth control, and is a working woman. I cannot wait to talk to her more. She is so cute too and asking me all these questions and it was so fun. It was just like we had been friends forever and were gossiping about friend’s ad kids and husbands and boyfriends and why we thought the other was prettier hahaha true story. So I will definitley be spending every Thursday afternoon at her house, maybe I can even spend the night sometimes just for fun and to get some alone time with her. She is going to teach me how to cook too. I am bummed though because on Thursday I am going to Bamako so I can’t go to her house but every Thursday I can, I will be there. It’s too bad because they have already had their allotted 3 health volunteers so there is currently no volunteer there, or even within a 2 hour radius of me. But I am hoping that Peace Corps will put one near me in the new stage in February. Man I can’t get over how cool it is to be a part of peace corps- such an incredible organization. Anyways, that thought just popped into my head.
Yesterday during my afternoon English chub with my neighbor we had an interesting conversation about his feelings towards France, China, and Arab investors. He said that first of all, he strongly dislikes France and Sarkozy. He is a really smart kid but no matter what, he says that unless he was the presidents kid or very wealthy, that there is now way France is ever going to let him in to study live or work. He hates the idea of colonization and thinks that France threw Mali under the bus. He says, if you notice, that there are no French NGOs working here. And it’s true. All the NGOs are American and Arab he says, and all the new roads and development is being done by china. He says that china and America are his best friends and he does not question Chinas motives, no matter how hard I pushed him with questions to say otherwise. I continued this conversation Fode during dinner and he said the same thing. We also had a really interesting conversation about marriage ceremonies and the lead up to them and how it differs from Mali. He thought it was hilarious that no dowries of any sort were paid. I said that in England most people don’t even bother getting married anymore, since it is a religious ceremony and there aren’t that many differences in government benefits for the single and married. He scowled at his but he is all for his daughters choosing their own husbands, with his approval of course, but he has the same opinions as my parents basically on the matter. His daughters are very lucky to have him as their father. Who knows what the neighbors daughters will have to go through to marry who they want.
I have a current plan of action. While I cannot start projects until January or ask for funding, I have a tentative list of projects. First of all, tomorrow Fode and I are going to build a mud stove in his compound. Unlike open stoves (3 rocks to lace the bowl on above an open fire) these mud stoves use less wood, heat food faster, reduce the work load of collecting wood for women, and reduce deforestation. There was apparently an NGO that came here to build those years ago and Fode was the main presenter. So when I said that I wanted to do that today, before I knew how involved h had been with the idea in the past, he was ecstatic. We use the dirt from old termite mounds though so I am definitely not looking forward to collecting the dirt. Also, I plan to treat and shock wells. During rainy season especially, wells can be very dirty. Last year there was a cholera epidemic about 3 hours from here so when I told Fode this idea, he was again very excited about it. By treating and shocking wells we can increase the amount of safe water around here and hopefully reduce the number of people who chronically suffer from diarrhea and dehydration as a result of this. A bigger project idea is to do some cervical cancer awareness programs and have the doctor in my town become trained. There is a very inexpensive way to visually check for precancerous cells that another volunteer a few hours north of me has developed so I am going to email her for some documents in Bambara on the matter so I can explain it more in depth to Fode. He was really excited about the new project idea though and had never even heard of cervical cancer and was alarmed by the statistics that do exist in Mali. We are also going to plant fruit bearing trees around the maternity to subsidize the nutrition for children and pregnant women. I need some money to build a fence though to keep out animals so this may have to wait a while but we have started planting seeds in plastic bags to get the baby trees going. We are also going to do some well top repairs to fix the wells whose walls are caving in. If we cement it, less debris and dirt will fall in; it will be cleaner, and safer. Small children and animals won’t fall in. Also, starting in mid October, I am going to buy paint just with my own money and paint a mural at the school. I am going to do Mali, Africa, and the world on 3 different walls. Fode is excited about this too. So far so good! Day to day things are pretty slow but in the long run, things will happen fast. Aside from these projects, I plan to do monthly baby weighing and follow up formations once every 2 weeks or so on health lessons. I am not yet sure who my audience will be but I haven’t met the women’s groups yet so maybe they will help. But in my audience will at least be the children and their families in the yellow and red zones. I also plan to do a HEARTH pretty soon but not till January maybe. But until then, I keep forgetting about my baseline survey where I talk to each family in my town about health issues. I observe their cooking habits, negen use, and ask if they are aware of STDs and proper weaning practices and such to gage what things are most urgently need around here. And Fode wants to do some AIDS stuff but he says that people always refuse to get tested so for now I will just focus on prevention and erasing the stigma and fear from the topic.
Also, on a very important note- today the subject of circumcision came up and not only does my town apparently not excise its women, they also apparently use a different blade for each boy that they circumcise. Way to go- now I just hope that this is true. He said that not only is the practice gone but it is also illegal. It is not illegal in Mali, only in government funded hospitals, so maybe I mistranslated his French/Bambara. But I just hope that it is true and that they practice what they preach and brag about to the tubabs. Fode is the coolest guy. I just could not have more respect for him. There is no conversation that is off limits and he is so so so smart and passionate about helping this community. I don’t know what this place would be without him.
Arrived in Bamako today after 3 weeks at site! WOO HOO I did it! Next time I will break it up with a visit to my site buddy and spend the night up there, but it’s about a 3 hour bike ride. And I’ll definitely be spending more time at this lady’s house 4 k away to detox and hang with some of her kids who are my age. (Prime suspects for my family planning brainwashing scheme!) But they probably already get it from their mom so I can ask them about their friends and how it is to grow up in Mali with liberal parents versus the alternatives. But, today was as usual absolutely ridiculous. There is nothing typical about public transport except that one thing stays constant- you will always be taken care of no matter what and you can definitely trust the drivers to get you where you’re going no matter what. Now maybe this isnt all drivers, but the ones who I take, everyone in my town knows them so they have a checks and balance system of sorts. So the plan was that I was going to go to Fodes house at 5 and wait for the bush taxi that would come at maybe 5 30. But Fode shows up at my window at 4 am, scares me half to death, and as I round up my things he says it’s time to go. About 3 minutes after he whispers in my window, I hear the honking of the bush taxi as it rolls through town. So we run over and load my things inside. This one actually has rows of seats parallel to the steering wheel instead of along the edges of the hollowed out van!! And something that relatively looks and feels like a cushion! Too bad there was a guy next to me who has obviously smoked a pack of cigs every day for the past 90 years who didn’t know the meaning of personal space and refused to stay on his side, but what can you do. Gotta pick your battles around here and on a bush taxi on the border of Guinea at 4 am where no one speaks English, he was as good a friend as I could ask for. So we bustle along the road in the darkness shifting gears as though we were on a paved road but instead we would shift up and down every 4 seconds which could explain the problems that we encountered 4 hours later. So we travel 1 k towards Bamako to get people. Then we turn around going back towards my town, away from Bamako… pick up people in my town and head towards guinea, through my market town where we get people and then keep going… towards guinea. At this point I am a little concerned because PC is currently not working in guinea because of security issues, I believe. But after a few more kilometers, we turn north… literally into the bush. I confirm with my new friends that we are in fact going to Bamako and not leaving the country and they give me the classic “you silly tubab laugh” and say that of course we are. This road is literally in the bush though. Not even one lane, with golden head high grasses on either side… I was in Tanzania in a game reserve in national geographic. It was actually quite beautiful, especially 2 and a half hours later when the sun started to rise. So now it is 7 am. Fode told me that if you catch the 4 am bush taxi then you get to Bamako at 7 am. Minutes later I find myself on the highway. Looking back, I know what he did- he went north through the bush for 3 hours because the road parallel to my road is paved and ours is not. So maybe he thought this would save time since the president is coming near my town tomorrow and maybe he thought the road was already closed. But this morning, this thought had not yet occurred to me and I had no idea where I was or what was going on, as usual. The car is vibrating like a ride at Disneyland but this one isn’t safe the water that splashes up through the floors when you hit puddles may have diseases. I just pray that we make it to Bamako, no matter how slow, every time we stop and have to push start the car again. Eventually, expectedly, the car dies. It is makes dying sounds and I’m concerned about carbon monoxcide because I had just read that scene from Slaughterhouse 5. So… I have no idea where we are, kids have gathered to look at me from behind bushes, some daring to near the tubab exhibit that has visited their town. We ironically break down next to a CSCOM so I took the opportunity to look around and greet the doctors. Nice office. Creepy posters, as usual. This is definitely not a good place for a hypochondriac (I have been having problems with this lately… but time will ease it off). So we wait around and I wonder what the protocol for this is, as they take apart the engine but I figure the driver knows what to do. Eventually he takes our money and then we wait for another bus, to which he gives the stack of money and we all head in. Sad day for a bush taxi driver. So we finish out the ride smoothly and arrive in Bamako about 7 hours after it began. Not bad, I would say. People here are just so friendly and trustworthy that even though there were a few times today when I was pissed off, it is a beautiful country. These guys have my back a hell of a lot more than the bus drivers in Copenhagen ever did.