... this is weird.

Things that I think are funny: condom, literally translated back into English, is an “important hat”. I need to remember not to say that hoods are important hats when it is raining… people might get confused. Another thing is the tea. I hate the tea. I like it sometimes when they use a certain kind, but I never know which it is until I’m stuck drinking it with everyone watching me. I have learned to turn off my taste buds but by the second or third sip the I get curious but taste still creeps in and it is like sipping a shot of bitter ever clear, for those of you who know how bad that is, you know who you are. Or kind of like the rice vodka that Bryon brought back from china. But you have to sip it and it’s bitter and has chunks of tea in it. Another funny and awkward thing is that the third question I get asked by people when I meet them is whether or not I am married. In America this would be rude and I find myself kind of like, ‘what did you just say?’ But whatever, this is Africa. So I’m like no, I’m not married. ‘why? How old are you?’ Then I don’t know what to say because I don’t know how to explain in Bambara. To say that I’m too young and that I don’t want to be married yet, at all, would be hard to explain without them thinking something was wrong with me. It wouldn’t be so bad if this didn’t happen at every one of the nine million houses in my town. Sometimes I’m just like whatever yeah I’m married; I have 4 husbands but no kids. Then they get really confused. And another funny thing is that every time I’m sitting down, drinking this gnarly tea, like 5 million kids come up and pet my hair. They stroke the parts that have fallen out of my hair thing and play with them… I’m kind of scared of their skin infections but oh man. As long as I can avoid having them braid it I will be happy. They always say ‘kunsigi? Kuntigi?’ Which means hair? Braids? Or something like that and I just run away. And Ashley, the crickets that lived in your bathroom in muscle beach are nothing compared to the mutant monster crickets that live in my house here… nothing. And then today I spotted a giant skink lizard under my bed… sleeping tonight will be interesting. Good thing I have my bug hut. And people here are obsessed with bathing 3 times a day, which you wouldn’t believe if you passed someone too close on the sidewalk, but they seem to think that freckles are dirt so maybe that explains why they think I don’t bathe well. Hmm. But tomorrow I head out of here in the early morning to get to Bamako alone, which will be real funny when it’s over and I know that I didn’t die or puke on anyone. But then once I get through the supposed bush taxi transfers, and if I find my bike, then I go to stage house and hang out for a little then go to this peace corps volunteers house for a regional party so that will be real fun. Tubab time! Then Wednesday back to tubaniso, yay. I can’t wait to hear the horror stories that have come out of this week at site visit, there are bound to be some good ones.
First night at my future site! This week we are visiting our sites for the first time. We have to set up bank accounts, meet people, and figure out public transport. My site is awesome though. I really think I got so lucky- I have cell service, pump water instead of just a well, the men speak French… the only thing I wish is that there was another peace corps volunteer kind of close to me. The closest one is 30 k away, and after today’s public transport experience, that is no easy feat. I think I’ll be riding my bike there and then spending the night and returning the next day when I go see him. Some people have site mates like 6 k away and stuff like that which would be nice for those days when you just really need a tubab, but I guess this is good. I have met 2 people in my family who are close to my age and friendly so maybe friendships will form with them. I mean friendships will form, but I hope they turn out to be really good ones. Driving in was so crazy though. When we finally pulled into my town, I was like oh my god; I’m going to be here for TWO YEARS. But while that is long and scary- it is also relaxing because there is really no rush. I can take my time, get to know people, learn the languages… its going to be awesome. I met a group of men who are some sort of medical board and they are all cool and can speak French. Then I met the dugutigi and all his old blind friends who have an assortment of weird visible diseases, including missing body parts (remember body parts man Ashley? Ahahhaha). Then we went to the maternity center- a 2 room building in a field that I don’t think even has electricity- but tomorrow i will get a tour. They also do everything else that doctors do there, but it is meant to be for maternity care. The closest CSCOM is like 30 k so I guess they do what they can. I have to say, I was kind of surprised when I met the doctor. He was a very well spoken, smart man. I was surprised because I have heard so much about the problem of smart educated people, especially in the health field, who leave their country because they can get better pay in others. This guy chose to stay here though and work in this center… it’s really refreshing. This town is beautiful though. Big trees, neon green fields, big sky, beautiful friendly people.
African public transport. Oh. My. God. I’m so glad I didn’t die today. But really. So I show up at the ‘bus station’ at 7 30 with my homologue lady who only speaks Bambara. They drop us off in this swarm of people and my homologue leads me to our bus. It is a really old rapist van, stripped bare inside and re welded to ‘reinforce’ the roof so it can hold more. Then they welded wooden benches around the perimeter and had one in the middle that was removable. I had seen these bush taxis before but I knew my site was between 4 and 8 hours away… so needless to say I was confused. We give the guys our stuff and they put it on top, and then we wait three hours, literally, for the bus to fill. Keep in mind that this is your average plumber car. We had 27 people in it, no joke, and a 200 kg diesel engine in the middle of us where the removable bench usually is that had just been brought in from china, obviously. I decided that this couldn’t be real so I took what my homologue said to mean that we were taking this part way, where we would then switch onto a real bus. So we pull out into traffic, I’m so scared and people are laughing at me, for many reasons, one being that in the white tubab in a van of 27 Malians. The little girl next to me is COVERED in little blisters and her scalp is peeling- I wanted to die. I didn’t think it could be contagious until I saw that both her siblings also had it. Oh my god I hope I’m vaccinated against whatever that was. Ew. She wouldn’t stop scratching. So then for the next 7 hours, yes, I sat on a wooden bench next to 26 other people and all their ‘carry on luggage’ as we barreled down the unpaved, sometimes under water ‘highway’. After about the first hour I realized that maybe it wasn’t definite that I would die so I started to relax. Then we stopped to get gas and filled up with the car running while a tanker backed in. But I also survived that so then I was pretty happy. It was funny though because by the end of the ride I felt really comfortable around all the strangers sitting around me. One boy spoke French which really helped when this guy stopped our car and made us all give 10 dollars and I had no idea what was going on. Apparently it was a transport tax…. Ironic.
But now I’m in my new house! Alive!!Did I mention they broke my bike? Yeah that was a bummer, they bent the back wheel outta shape so the peace corps is supposedly coming to get it tomorrow… good thing my bike is going to see public transport 3 more times in the next 3 weeks. This could be expensive. And my god, my lower back has never been so sore. And I better not have measles or whatever those girls were carrying. Ew. But my house is awesome, the girl who lived here last in 2009 but she left all her furniture (double bed hell yeah!) and lots of books and things. Tomorrow I am going to clean and organize, I can’t wait. I’m using my bug hut for the first time, the bug tent, and it’s the best thing ever, I’m definitely sticking to it. Everyone I have met I have really liked though and I feel like I can definitely do this, and I can’t wait to get integrated and start experiencing things. So much to look forward too!! We have this week here; a few days at Peace Corps office, 9 days at home stay, and then swear in! swear in is going to be so much fun and we get to spend the night in hotels with pools and bars and we get the next day free. First free day everrrrr. Peace Corps office (tubaniso) is always so fun though because we finally get o see all our friends and be free. It’s still packed days but we can hang out late and things. And plan ahead for things like WAST (West Africa softball tournament)… PCVs (Peace Corps volunteers) organized it a long time ago and it is legendary. It is in Dakar so we bus out there (30 hours) in teams and I cannot wait. Apparently there is a form of it in dc too because the returned PCVs miss it so much. And then the new stage gets sworn in in April, yay!
Wow, I was definitely in the honey moon phase this morning. The thought actually crossed my mind that I was ‘too’ happy. But looking back, it’s because it was raining so I got to organize my room alone and she had just brought me a snack of the legendary green snot sauce but I really liked it and used a fork. I’m still happy but interacting with people in Bambara is a rollercoaster, an ‘emotional rollercoaster’, a term that we use all too often around here. So this morning I woke up and went to this guys house for breakfast. We had mango jam and milk, it was awesome. Then we explored a little and went to see the maternity center. I was talking to the doctor, the only doctor in the surrounding 5 or so villages and I asked him what difficulties he faces. He said that they need lights (that would be good for the surgeries they do) and forceps. They don’t have forceps in maternity ward?!?! Aunt Sue/ Aunt Carol, I would love to hear your thoughts on how and if it’s even possible to run a maternity ward without these. Their invention saved so many babies lives; I can’t imagine how that hasn’t reached this town yet. The family who invented forceps tried to keep it a secret and managed to for like 100 years, I don’t remember the statistics but they are astounding at how incredible they are. Anyways, maybe those 2 things can be project ideas. This town has a lot but there is another pcv doing a cervical cancer thing and I want to do that here. The only surgeries that they can do here are hernia repairs and some other small things. C-section have to go 30 kilometers away on the back of a moped- that is bad considering that C sections here are only used in emergency situations. From what I know, I know that part of the reason that C section rates are so high in the US is because forceps are a very feeling based tool; it takes a special feel to get it so many people opt for a c section instead of the doctor using forceps. So if they had forceps here and if the doctor could use them, couldn’t that prevent a lot of women from having to make the 30 k trip to the nearest CSCOM? I need to get some of these things, especially if that’s true. They see a lot of malaria, heart disease, and some other words that I don’t know what they are in English. Take this as you will- right behind this tiny, 2 room medical center for the whole 5 village area is a brand new giant mosque being built even though there are already multiple in this town. Needless to say, typical. It was cool though because when we were walking back towards the center of town we passed by this guy who worked for MSF (doctors without borders). He comes here every Friday to test people and treat them for malaria. It’s great to know that I will get to work with organizations like PLAN, IPPF, and MSF. I can’t wait to meet the other people. Then we were walking along and this dog looks at me and walks toward me confidently and I wasn’t sure what it was doing but it turns out that it was the former volunteers dog and I guess it recognizes white people because he came straight to me and knew I would love on him, he’s so cute and his name is Puppy. I love him already and I look for him all day. Then we went home and I organized and started cleaning my house. The last girl left a year ago but has been working in Bamako and has visited a few times since. Today I found lots of good books in the stuff that she left and this awesome journal. Both the previous volunteers who lived here wrote in it and it’s so cool. They both chronicle advice and thoughts throughout their service to help their replacements. I’m totally gonna continue that. I also found these funny books written by volunteers, for volunteers, as support books and full of fun things to do in each city and advice. Then this PC staff woman came and I had no idea what was going on as usual but we get in the land rover and it turns out that we were going to the mayor’s office. We went and she introduced us and we chatted. Bambara, French, and English all got mixed together because each of us spoke a combination of the 3 so things were getting passed around the circle in all 3 languages, it was cool. Then we went back via land rover which was awesome because the road was horrible so we got to test the land rovers skills at fording small rivers. Reminds me of Oregon Trail. Turns out that the guy who broke my bike on the bus yesterday came back and took my bike tire that got destroyed with the intention of fixing it. This is weird and news to me for like 9000 reasons. Not only are the bike parts needed not made in Mali but I didn’t even know he was taking it. Apparently my friend explained this to me but now that I think about it, when he said that the chauffeur was coming to fix my bike, I definitely assumed that they meant Peace Corps car driver, not bush taxi driver…. Lost in translation. So needless to say, I have a one wheeled American bike in Mali and I don’t know how I’m going to get out of here because I’m pretty sure I need to ride my bike to the bus station, basically a place on the mud road, and I don’t know how I’m going to do that. I gave my bike with one wheel to this Peace Corps lady today but I don’t really know what’s going on…. Fortunately it seems that things always work out in the Peace Corps. So far atleast. My brain is heavy, yet another bipolar year long day has passed. Ohhh mannnn. I really need to start typing this stuff when I’m in the honey moon phase of my day. Right now I’m just overwhelmed and really wonder if I will make any lasting difference that a Malian couldn’t do whether or not I was here. One thing that keeps me going is that my friend’s tour guide in the dogon country up north and many Peace Corps staff can speak English and have gotten jobs because Peace Corps volunteers lived in their town. I just need to be friends with one girl here and convince her to use birth control and not have 7 kids in 7 years and I’ll be happy. And this cervical cancer thing has me really excited too. I have to talk to the girl who started it and maybe visit her site for a tech exchange. Tomorrow will be cool though because it is prenatal consultation day. They happen every 3 months (doesn’t make sense because you need 4 prenatal consultations) but I’m really excited to start seeing my future. I’m so glad that I’m only here for a week because I am really looking forward to some tubab detox time. I’m scared for the first 3 months. Oh man. But also really excited to see how things come together and once I get used to the transport route of visiting friends. I also read in the book from the other PCVs who lived here that tubab holidays are some of their fondest memories. Halloween!! I’m definitely using some Bamako nights for that.
Sometimes I wonder what Peace Corps is doing to me. Its creating a precedent- is it setting me up to always be looking for something more? Is it making my life complete, by risking everything that I know and love to start over in a mud hut in Africa? It is starting from scratch. Some would say that this is living. Will I be overly judgmental of others when I get back? Will I be a social outcast and just want to stay on the move? Will I look down upon people who haven’t done Peace Corps but work for NGOs that do things in Africa and think that they don’t understand first hand? Will my ego become huge? Maybe ill become socialist? Or maybe I'll become a home body and want nothing more than the most stable life that any average American wants. It’s invigorating to know that being here is starting my brain over, questioning and reinforcing everything I have ever formed an opinion on. Will I see where the socialist teachers that I disagreed with in college are coming from? Will I become religious? It’s cool, knowing that I am living to the max I guess. Risking. Potentially dying of malaria, I’m not really sure. Round 2 of cipro has just begun, following a sudden fever which hit 103 in the span of 3 hours before I took max dosages of Tylenol… peace corps is a love hate relationship but I have to say, I enjoy the pain of a fever because I know I’m doing something, I know I’m creating a story and an experience that when I do fall into a routine lifestyle back in America, I can look back on this and know I can do it. I just wonder. In the beginning here when I was actually wondering if I was meant to do this, I realized that going home wouldn’t make me magically happy. Then I wondered, if I’m not happy here, then where will I be happy? Am I even the humanitarian women’s rights loving person that I thought I was? We will see. Right now I think so but I have only been here 6 weeks. I am curious to see what I will be thinking in a year. But already, I love the friends I have made here and there is so much to look forward to. The friends we make here are friends of a whole different sort, we don’t know anything about each other’s personalities and material belongings in America, all we know is why we are here and that makes us all connected. I know I sound retarded right now but it’s true. So many ups and downs to look forward to but even the downs I enjoy. But will I be able to enjoy the downs when I return to America? Right now the downs are exciting and adventurous and I feel free because I am in Africa and I’m speaking Bambara. But will all my feelings be muted once I return to the life I was living? Will I ever go back? Will I be forced to seek this adrenaline for the rest of my life, thus forgoing all plans of a family and a golden retriever? Can I have both; I guess is what I really want to know. And only time will tell. But I’ve got time on my hands to wonder. Like in the book the Lunatic Express, he wonders if his life style is what has made him who he is, the adventurous fun guy, or has it made him torn between 2 worlds, the world of being exhilarated by being so alone and the world of having family. I love the feeling of Africa because I am so alone, I’m free and I’m growing alone. Can I find a balance and have both? Have I created a wall? I don’t think so but I don’t know. Has Peace Corps in a way opened Pandora’s Box and ruined my life? I say that laughing but seriously. Time will tell and I’m excited, even as I pound cipro and lay in the fetal position in my bed taking my temperature every 5 minutes to see if it’s rising again. It’s still so unreal when I get lost in my thoughts and look up, out my screen door and see the mud huts around me- is this a dream? I have wanted and wondered and talked about the Peace Corps so long but I really don’t think that I ever actually thought I would do it. And why should I feel at all special, when I am getting paid to do something that everyone living here does for free, normal? Why do I feel so entitled and experienced by being here when to all the people in my village, this is the only life they know? Why is this even hard for me? Oh boy. I can totally see why 70 percent of all Peace Corps volunteers marry other volunteers… because we all go a little insane.