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.

emily in the mango rains

Precursor- I am writing this from a flooded stranded land cruiser sitting in the middle of a river that was once a road. I am on my way to site, to be installed and essentially start being a peace corps volunteer, but the car got stuck and I have been sitting here since 1 30… its almost 7 now. The road is littered with dead cars, busses, burning starter engines and batteries, and people walking. Apparently there was a lot of rain yesterday. This was supposed to be a 4 to 8 hour drive but as usual, we are now pushing 12 hours and the weird part is that there is no end in site, so that is why I am using this time to type of my blog from this incredible week. Doesn’t help that today was one of the two days since being in Africa that I have had to pound Imodium… oh well, this is Peace Corps and I love the unpredictability. But it’s fun because I am sitting in the car with this APCD who is really cool and I’m getting his life story out of him. Our driver decided to walk to a nearby town through the floods but I don’t want to get infections from the water… so I’m hanging out in the flooded land rover watching the fish swim by my door. The day got funnier. After many attempts at trying to push the car out of the water, the engine finally died and then so did the battery. Apparently it is a bad sign when the engines died. Lots of motorcycle engines were dead and same with cars, all you could hear was the starter engine going and going. Then they wanted to plug in the electrical cord into the car that was in waist deep water to pull out the tow cable… fortunately we convinced them not to do that. They kept making fun of me, saying I looked scared, and I wanted to be like yeah obviously because you guys are trying to jump a car battery in standing water. So after all the many varying efforts, we were still stuck there and we decided to wait for a Peace Corps car to come from Bamako. So we waited, it got dark, our driver decided he wanted to walk to a town. I didn’t want to walk. Going to the bathroom was a fun experience, it’s inevitable if you sit in a car all day, and the water was basically up to my hips so I definitely broke some codes of Malian decency as I stood there with my skirt around my waist. I hope I didn’t get schisto. The driver returned a few hours later with a giant truck that he paid to pull us out, backwards, from the sink pit we were in. Once we were out, the water was only thigh deep, so the car could drain out and that was good. Then we waited some more and then the Peace Corps car came to rescue us!
I spent this past week at tubaniso, finishing up things before we are inducted into Peace Corps as volunteers and leave for our 2 years at site. This week was so so so much fun; I don’t even know where to begin. Saturday we had our final language test at our home stay villages and we all had to get intermediate mid in Bambara in order to be sworn in at the embassy. Fortunately we all did, though I don’t really feel confident in my language skills yet, time will tell. I’m not worried, it will come. Then Saturday we hung around the home stay village and went to the bar/restaurant for a little to get some food, celebrate, and get things at the tailors to wear at swear in so that we look integrated. People from a neighboring village rode their bikes to the bar too. Typical Africa story- some of the guys wanted to get hair cuts before swear in so they asked the bar tender where the barber shop was. He said it was down the street so they said ok, let’s go after we eat. Then ten minutes later this guy on a moped shows up with a bag full of hair cutting gear. With the lack of electricity, I had to wonder how he was going to buzz cut a tubab. He pulls out a pack of razor blades and a fine tooth comb, and manages to give an awesome buzz cut, complete with neck and forehead trimming, the skin of which he poured bleach on afterwards. Saturday night was sad; I hung out with my host brother for a while and tried to absorb the people as much as possible. I also think I encountered my first drunk Malian. My host brother and I were sitting outside his hut on benches chatting and his friend comes over. He is wobbly and his pants are unzipped, and his is fumbling with the zipper trying to zip them during this whole story about ‘gerens’ and weird giggles, and weird touchy feeling actions towards my brother. Gerens are kind of scandalous places where men hang out in secret with mistresses or friends, but they do this never with their wives and never near other family members. For example, my teacher has his own geren but his brother has a different one. I told my host brother that I understood what they were talking about and he starting laughing and asked me how I knew about those.
But Sunday! Finally. The day of reunion with all my friends. Sure I had seen them recently, but this was the week that I had been looking forward to for so long. A week of care free time with all 80 of us, looking forward to swear in and excited/really scared for the day when we all go to site. I got back and went to my hut to unpack and things, after the hectic morning of leaving homestay, which was really sad. I can’t imagine leaving after 2 years.

"You're an emotional rollercoaster"

Well, first night back at home stay post site visit and site announcement and everything else that is revolutionary. Tons of events have happened in the past week or so that have made pretty big impacts on my Peace Corps life as I knew it. First of all I met my homologue and such as you know from my last post. Those were simply first impressions. I am still deep in the first impression stage of the Peace Corps; I don’t have a routine anywhere yet. But by IST (in service training) in December though, things should be relatively normal.
Nothing too revolutionary has happened since returning yesterday. We are reviewing our Bambara to get ready for the big test next Saturday. While I feel confident alone, I still can only carry out the most basic conversations where I already know the answer and have a problem with comparing myself to others and then feeling bad about my skills. But this week we learn how to do baby weighing to scan for malnourished kids, so that will be really interesting. I am curious to see what percent of the kids actually are dangerously malnourished, and how my perceptions have changed since getting here. A child in this town who is relatively ok may be malnourished but I just don’t see it yet. We also will teach the women how to make ameliorated porridge to feed the kids on the lower end of the scale. It is oatmeal beefed up with corn and rice and peanut powder, providing extra calories and nutrients. The only problem is that most kids don’t actually get to drink it. Sometimes, when the woman comes home with it or makes it for her family, it goes to the old person because of seniority but they aren’t the ones who will benefit most from it. Being a child under 5 here is like being a grass eating dinosaur. Everyone else is beating you to the food and it’s accepted that you’ll get chased away from the food bowl before you get any of the good stuff. Maybe that not the best analogy but it’s the first thing that popped into my head. Kids here are sent straight from breast feeding and into the food group with the other kids. Then the little 2 year olds forced to fend for himself. They eat slower and less. A good solution is to give them their own bowl. Many women here do not practice good weaning techniques so the babies quickly drop weight after they are denied breast milk. Then they are exposed to dirty water and a carb heavy diet that lacks variety. Women here don’t always exclusively breast feed until 6 months either, sometimes they add in water and other things thinking that it’s ok, but the little babies aren’t ready for all the diseases present, thus starting a cycle of diarrhea and all kinds of parasites and dehydration. Another problem is that women believe that breastfeeding while pregnant is bad, so if a woman gets pregnant while still breastfeeding then she will cut the kid off breast feeding cold turkey. Contributing to this issue is that women think that breast feeding is a form of birth control, which I don’t think it is. In the book I am reading right now, 9 hills to niamambuka (spelling?) She talks about this. This book is really good and is written by a Cote d’Ivoire health volunteer in the late 1990s I think. It’s great though and I definitely recommend it. I personally find it better than Monique in the mango rains, though both are good reads. But I am also in a rush to finish this blog post because I am reading ‘extremely loud and incredibly close’, and I really love this guys writing style. He makes me think of so many things at once and it written in a very natural tone. Makes me want to narrate my own life this way. There are tons of good quotes that I am writing down in my book since I am reading this off a friends kindle. I totally should have gotten one of those.
Some funny things that happened soon after arriving back at home stay last night: I was bored and feeling antisocial so I got out my nail polish and rounded up the kids in my compound and painted all their nails. Even the boys wanted it but I called my host brother over for a second opinion and he said that was a bad idea. He will be coming with me to tubaniso in September for the swear in dinner and things, I am really excited. Each volunteer brings one member of their family and while I would love to bring my sister, all my time has been spent with my host brother so I asked him already. Another funny thing was when I got back; obviously my house had become the home of many animals, ranging from lizards to many obscenely huge spiders. So I opened the door, stepped back, watched some scatter, then rounded up the kids yet again and sent them in storm trooper style to get them all. Single file they came out with an assortment of dead animal body parts, some with only wiggling lizard tails and others carrying spiders by one leg. Successful mission. Then they all sat in my door way and watched me unpack… typical. I love these little kids. I will certainly visit this town at least once a year to stop by, since its relatively close to Bamako and I will be around pretty often to get things done in the city. Once at site, I will be there 3 months essentially with the exception of maybe 4 days before I am allowed to leave my region. This means 4 days of internet in 3 months, so September through December should be interesting. But another funny thing was that they shot down this giant hawk like bird for my return. My host dad had apparently been hunting with his revolutionary era rifle and managed to shoot down this giant oversized parakeet looking bird. It looked like a bird that you would see in the Amazonian rain forest but bigger and with giant claws, hopefully for killing snakes (side note- at tubaniso they found 3 black mambas and a king cobra…. These can reach 15 feet) but anyways, the kids were messing with me and the bird so I sat in my hut for a little while they put a leash on it and ran around with it in the air pretending that it was flying. Then they started hitting it against rocks to get some feathers off, and then these 5 year old boys lit it on fire to start plucking it. So basically they just manhandled it for 2 hours and then lit it into a flaming torch and ran around some more. Then they started plucking it and I could see the bullet hole in the wing. … Then I ate it for dinner. What is becoming of me? I don’t know but I miss American meat… I will never scoff at meat in Publix again after eating this for 2 years. It’s hard enough trying to gain weight in America… But I’ll give it till December and then assess whether or not I should start eating ameliorated porridge.
Is it better not to know? I remember when I wrote my Peace Corps essay I quoted this song that I think about a lot that says that ‘living is easy with eyes closed’. Strawberry fields I think. And I think he had a point. In my essay I said how he is right, but that I don’t want to live with eyes closed. Sure, a documentary is nice, I love watching those. But do I want to live one? Every time I leave my room, be confronted by more and more issues? Never get a break? When will I get a break? Do I have to do this? It’s hard. I hide in my room in my bug hut under the UNHCR blanket they give us because it’s the closest I can come from removing myself from the present. But is this far enough? Have I gone far enough? Can I go back, but that doesn’t make me feel good. Today is a free day. I rode 30 min down the road to visit friends. It was really nice. I love Peace Corps people. So different but all on the same page. We all jumped through hoops to be here but we all want it, need it. I rode home at the last possible minute before dark and as I changed out of my sweaty shirt in the negen, I see my host dads breaking truck crumble into the compound. Out pour 900 kids and all the women he took to the fields with him. Then he takes out two monkeys. It is a dad and a son, they boast. I smile and say that we don’t have those in America and that we don’t eat them. I grab my camera and take a picture, thinking, well this is Africa. They are all thrilled. Then I notice that the baby monkey is still alive. Fatally injured, but rolling around on his dad and making monkey noises, tail flailing, pushing its little hands into his dad. The kids, all probably 15 of them, are surrounding it. They are poking it with a knife, torturing it. My host dad is sitting off in a chair yelling at them every so often but I don’t know what he was saying. We were all standing around a dead dad monkey and a dying baby monkey. It felt so weird to be standing so close to something dead. I felt like I had killed it, standing above it. I don’t know how it felt but I had never felt so out of place and removed in my life. Then I snapped. Berated these kids in English and French and Bambara and told them how ridiculous it is that they are enjoying this. How inhumane and unnecessary to promote suffering for sufferings sake. Just kill it, just eat it already. My one host brother who speaks French was unfortunate enough to be next to me and I yelled at him in French too but unlike the kids, he could understand me. Then I knew I was going to start crying so I went and got my already full water bottle and said I was going to my friend’s house to fill it. On the way out I say my other host brother who I am closest with and told him that I can’t be here, near people who will poke and prod a living animal and how it is very important to kill it fast. But they don’t care and they don’t understand. Will they ever understand? Am I being unreasonable? Just add it to the reasons to laugh at the emotional tubab with her nalgene and chaccos and tubab medicines. So I get myself together and I’m petting my dog that has become a lap dog and its so cute. Then I go in my house and then I hear him crying. So I run out and I see the dog running around crying, dragging his butt on the ground. No one cares and everyone is laughing. I run to my house and they laugh at my urgency. I get my flashlight and roll the dog over and see something giant and white stuck to her butt. I thought maybe it was a scorpion but it looked more like a giant white play dough starfish. I didn’t know what it was so I told my host dad to get it off with the stick he was holding. I know the dog has been having issues lately because it has been constantly biting its butt and I could tell it was itchy or burning. But then the host dad pulls out this giant white thing out of the dog. I don’t know of this was some sort of female dog issue or what but it was disgusting. I went and washed my hands. Then the dog was laying there. People beat their kids and wives behind closed doors for the most part. But animals they don’t care. This is why I snapped- because I saw. So what am I not seeing? Will there come a point when I know enough, to not want to know? Will my naïve curiosity turn into a realistic knowledge? When will that happen? I hope it happens. When I no longer want to know, when I can’t do anything; when I no longer want to know just for the sake of knowing. It doesn’t help anyone.
But I love the Peace Corps. I can’t stress it enough. I have never been happier. If anyone is reading my blog and thinking what I was thinking a year ago- start the application process some rainy night and you will see. I can’t believe I am here. There are reasons that I am here. We did a baby weighing yesterday. Literally all of the kids that showed up looked pretty good. But I was amazed to find out their ages. A normal looking kid, who doesn’t even look underweight, can be in the red zone meaning that he is critically malnourished. They have to go to the CSCOM asap. We had a 26 month old who weighed 7 kilo. He looked normal, but not when you factor in his age. That’s what blows my mind though. He wasn’t skinny. But he was in bad shape. So today we had an ameliorated porridge making session to teach women about construction foods that will help their kids stay in the green. There are lots of behaviors to be changed and I keep hearing the Peace Corps beat it into our brains- we are here to change behavior.
Side note- Ashley- remember the incident which I can’t explain for politically correct reasons when we were standing in our door ways in muscle beach and I said something stupid then you clapped to kill a bug but I was mistaken? Jajajajajj I would call you right now and tell you that right now if I had phone credit. You lie like a bug.
Last day at home stay. It’s sad saying good bye but I am so, so ready to get a routine and cook for myself and have a say in what I do. Today I learned that my 16 year old sister is married and that her husband lives in Bamako but she lives here, until she is done with some school and wants kids. I had no idea. I was just talking to my host brother about when people get married here, and he said that the average for girls is about 18, but that it varies based on puberty and things. And he said that men get married around the age of 30, to the 18 year old. He had some interesting explanations for this age gap. I said I want a husband near my age. Another experience today was when my host mom came home from the doctor’s office. Her one year old has been sick lately and he doesn’t look too good. So he went to the CSCOM today and she came back with 5 bottles of medicine. I looked through them, the instructions to which were in English and French and while she can’t speak either language I don’t think she can read either. But the instructions were obviously translated from Chinese or something because they made no sense and basically said to follow the doctor’s instructions. But she had medicine for everything from amoebas and giardia to malaria. I hope the pharmacist didn’t rip her off, because a blood test could have narrowed down the medicine list for sure. But she’s giving this poor kid the medicines and he doesn’t want any of it and it says to take with food and milk and things but she doesn’t know that… it was depressing to watch. Her breasts dried up so the kid has been sucking on nothing for too long now and I am trying to be optimistic for the kid but it’s hard. The other one year old in my family came back from some time away and its skin looks like kwashiorkor to me. I don’t think it is because its limbs aren’t swollen but it isn’t looking too healthy either… and as usual, every kid has eternal amounts of snot dripping on their faces and coughs akin to TB. Being a kid here is hard- I look around at the teenagers and wonder how many didn’t make it that far. I was happy to see that my host mom could afford the medicines though and that she didn’t depend on only African traditional medicine. I know she had been using it a few weeks ago, but I am glad to see that she went to the CSCOM. I wish I was going to be around for long enough to see this kid get better, but I am off to my new site. I do plan on visiting though and I have my host brother’s phone number.
And a BIG THANKS goes to AUNT SUE, CARIN GREENE, MY MOM, AND THE LEARS!!! THANKS SOOOOOO MUCH for the packages- I cannot express how much my friends and I enjoyed that. THANKS!!!