Down my the Riverbank

October 17, 2010:

For the better part of a month I have heard from many people in village that there is a river near by. Only 5km away they would say, not far at all. But for the life of me I could never get anyone to tell me which road would lead me to this river. One morning I woke up feeling adventurous and decided to find this elusive river. Sure enough getting lost only twice I found the river. I was ecstatic, I find that when ever I am near a body of water I feel much happier and I can just sit and stare at the water for hours, granted Bani River is a little different than the beaches of California or Greece but hey, you work with what you got!

I had to get off my bike as the water erosion made it impossible to bike. I was looking for a shady tree where i could sit and read. During this search I ended up stepping in quite a bit of mud and had to go the the river bank to clan my feet and sandals. Here I found women half dressed bathing their children, washing their clothes and dishes. Men where out of colorful fishing boats. I chatted with the women as I cleaned myself and then left to find that shade tree.

Eventually I found the prefect spot- lots of shade, no people around and a perfect view of the brown murky water. I took out my book and started reading when i hear a woman greet me. She told me that we should go into the village together. It would have like to decline but this of course would have been rude. So there we went into the small village that surrounds the river.

She took me to her house which was located in the center of the village. There I found four mud huts, several chicken coops, a few donkeys and lots family members. She introduced me to her family. While I sat there I am sure that most everyone who lives in the village (which is not many) came by to see the white person. They all greeted me and chatted for a bit before they continued about there days work.

My new friend however, asked me if I like fish and I said "yes," again not wanting to be rude-- I mean these people are fishermen. Next thing I knew she goes into her house and brings out a large rice sack that is tied with rope at the top. She unties the bag and spills the contents onto the ground. Never in my life have I seen so many fish in one place. They were quite fresh as I could see their gills still moving.
She proceeded, while breast feeding here 5 month old baby, to cut 5 or 6 of the fish and cooked them over and open fire. She of course insisted I eat them, and I am glad that I did they were delicious, and now that I write this a few days after the event I didn't even get sick-- which makes every meal that much more enjoyable! After eating together she took me to meet the rest of the village people and then pointed me in the direction of Samene and I headed home.

I am constantly studded by the kindness and hospitality Malians show for complete strangers. While eating it is customary to say to passerby "A ga dumnike" which means come and eat. This is said to everyone who passes while people share a meal together. Although the response is "Ne Farra" I am full it is telling about the notion of sharing everything that exists in this culture.

The Psychology of Sitting

October 12, 2010

"... people in Western civilization no longer have time for each other, they have no time together, they do not share the experience of time. This explains why Westerners are incapable of understanding the psychology of sitting. In villages all over the world, sitting is an important social activity. Sitting is not a 'wast of time' nor is it an manifestation of laziness. Sitting is having time together, time to cultivate social relation"
                                                                          - Andreas Fuglesang

Before I found this passage among my many Peace Corps issued reading material  my biggest complain is "I have nothing to do" and "I am always board." But this is because i defined sitting as doing nothing. I found that I would get myself all geared up to leave my house to visit my Host family, the mayors office, the schools teachers or my homologue and once I reached my destination I would sit and do nothing! After reading this and pondering the passage I realized how true it is; sitting is in fact not a waste of time but rather an integral part of my job as a capacity builder. I am here to integrate to learn of the needs of the people and then to help them help themselves. Central to this is to come to know the people and the best way to do this is my sitting.

Central to Peace Corps mission and definition of development is "Development is a process, not a project" it is during these sitting times that conversations, can be had and the process of learning of needs and desires takes places; so, here's to sitting for two years!

If Twitter Existed in Village

Now, I am not sure if this is a good idea or if I will keep it up much after this entry but while in village there have been so many moments where I thought to myself wow, this is a perfect twitter moment. I never kept a twitter while I lived in the states, except for once as it was assigned for a class, so I am not sure if I am doing it right but hopefully these few moments will give you more of an idea what life is like in village.
I give you-

If Twitter Existed in Village:

October 12, 2010

Started to sleep outside in my tent because the heat in hut is getting unbearable, woke up this morning with a cockroach ( the size of a fairly large rat) on my leg, and who needs coffee to jump start their day!

October 14, 2010

Nothing makes you feel more like a catch than when a man buys you a fish!

October 14, 2010

Learned how to cook rice on an open fire, I could barely do it with a rice cooker in the states!

October 15, 2010

Happy International Hand washing Day! (you're welcome for that piece of information, now wash your hands)

October 16, 2010

Asked a group of kids what they were eating, as a bowl of what I thought was food was in front of them. They laughed and said it was mud.... gives you an idea of what Malian food looks like!

October 16, 2010

Got my first "icky finger" from the budget secretary in the mayors office... whoa lucky day!

October 17, 2010

In an attempt to integrate I think I drank river water- God help me!

October 19, 2010

Just came to the realization that if there is ever hair in my food while I am in village its got to be mine! Comforting!

October 19, 2010

And have come full circle, saw a cow birth today--and to think, I used to think the miracle of life videos from high school were bad!

Spitting, a Malian Art

September 18, 2010

When preparing myself to move to Mali I knew that there would be a number of things I would have to become used to. When I made the list in my head, and a few on paper, it always contained things like the food, dress and language but never did I once think about spitting and this in Malian is a prevalent activity.

Let me first discuss Malian tooth brushing. I have only seen women do this- which of course makes me wonder about male oral hygiene. The process goes something like this: a woman will be walking and suddenly stop and move toward a tree or bush or anything with branches and remove a one, she will then de-leaf and when applicable she will de thorn the branch and break it into a manageable size (manageable meaning, easy to fit in your hand and long enough to reach back into a those hard to reach molars). Then she will chew on one end exposing the inside and making that edge become something like bristles on a toothbrush. For the next 10 minutes or so she will scrub her teeth with it.

Now, it is impossible to discuss the act of tooth brushing without a through discussion of spitting (or at least that is what I am going to do next) and it would be doing Malian tooth brushing an injustice not to include this discussion here, for Malian spitting is an art. An art which every Malian has mastered from young boys to elderly women. An art that is practiced and distributed everywhere- inside the house, on the way to the mosque, while eating dinner, after eating dinner, while drinking tea, while preparing breakfast, while playing cards, while talking with friends, while on the bus, while sitting on MY porch- you get the idea.

The art, however, is not in the location but is in the act. There is the projectile spit which is like a bullet. I would be willing to put good money on the fact that if one of these were to hit someone they would require medical attention. Then there is the arch, the person leans back ever so slightly and created a perfect arch from their mouth to the ground. Then there is the sideways spit. This one is always done effortlessly and usually in the middle of a conversation. In the middle of a sentence they will quickly snap their head to one side spit then continue on without missing a beat. Its brilliant.

I am sure there are other types which I will be sure to keep you updated on as I observe them (because I am sure that you all are very curious about this topic, and if you have actually read this far into this entry I commend you).
I must say that with this in both of these areas, (tooth brushing and spitting) I have yet to "integrate" and not sure if I ever will. I still enjoy my Crest with Scope- but who knows, its only been three months.

Malian Independance Day

September 26, 2010


Wednesday September 22, 2010 marked Mali's 50th year of Independence from France. Since we arrived in this country we have been awaiting the, what I could only assume would be a large celebration that would mark this occasion. There have been signs up everywhere and a variety of fabrics that had this date written on it. So the day has come and passed and the party consisted of all day long music and dancing, a bike race, several games from the children, and speeches given by the mayor, representatives of the various districts of my village, and Peace Corps (to be fair this was not quite a speech rather me terrified as a microphone was shoved into my face and mumbling something I hope was a greeting and a thank you).
The day started with the raising of the Flag and the singing of the National Anthem and I must admit that I was scratching my head while four young boys started to sign as the flag was being raised and I realized that they were singing in French. As the day went on the French Language punctuated every event. It is odd that a country, celebrating its Independance from France would continue to conduct the majority of their official business in French when many of the people in village don't speak French. I attempted the large challenge of asking a few Malian's why this is, in hopes of understanding their perspective but of course don't understand enough of Bambara to get a response that can truly satisfy my curiosity. I hope to, one day, be able to engage in a conversation in which I can discuss this in more detail; but, for now head scratching continues.

In addition to the bike race and other activities my village slaughtered three cows in preparation for the fete.
I was woken up on Tuesday morning by a child telling me to follow him because the men of the village where killing a cow. I thought to myself, "cool, never seen that before" (so much for vegetarianism) and excitedly hoped on my bike and pedaled to what I can now only refer to as the killing field.

There I was greeted by a large cow and 6 or 7 men each armed with a knife, mind you no one had one larger than your average kitchen knife. Needless to say it took a little time and a lot of energy. I was the only female older than 10 who was there as "women bring life and therefore should not take it."
Malians use every part of the cow and boy are there a lot of parts! They used the hide as a carpet and made 100 piles of meat (placed on top of the hide) and the community split them up. Meanwhile one man started a fire with a few branches and roasted the head and the hoofs. I would look in his direction occasionally and see him picking pieces off and chopping away, apparently its the best part of the cow (second only to the heart) but I just took their word for it; or at least I think I did-- in reality who knows what parts I actually consumed.

I could certainly go into more detail on the process and what exactly I saw but I think you get the idea. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perceptive) my camera died and I was unable to capture these events. But in two years I am certain this image will still be with me (and remain there the rest of my life) so if you require more detail I will happy to provide it then.

For now, Happy Independence Mali.
　

Segoukow (People of Segou in Bambara)

September 7, 2010

Crocks!

The firsts days in Segou have been wonderful. The older PCVs have shown us a great time. We all got together as a region and had dinner the first night here. We ate at the Esplanade, which is an amazing Italian food restaurant that is located right on the Niger river which makes for amazing views. For some reason however, there are crocodiles caged up on their patio. Apparently the restaurant sells them-- I have not quite been able to bring myself to ask how much or what one would do with a crocodile once it was bought but I am sure in the next two years I'll have an answer to these questions.

Lindsey and I on the Niger River

Before this we took a boat ride at sunset down the Niger River, which runs through Segou. Its was spectacular. As we rode down the river in our gonadal like boat we saw women washing clothes, dishes and themselves in the river; young boys jumped in the river after long days of fishing; and children splashing each other. The river is by no means clean and although it was a beautiful ride these scenes were very real reminders of where we are and what we are doing.

View of our Boat on the Niger River

Segouknow

Offically a PCV

September 3, 2010




So here I am an official Peace Corps Volunteer. I am getting ready to head out to site where I will stay for three months before heading back to Tubaniso for another few weeks of training. Needless to say I am excited and nervous all at once.

We were sworn in as volunteers on Friday morning at the American Embassy in Bamako. There the Ambassador gave a moving speech and was actually brought to tears. She said that she would have never been courageous enough to do what we are doing and called us "America's best ambassadors" because we actually live among Malians. It was powerful and I can say I am very proud to call myself a PCV. The volunteers where dressed in our best Malian threads and were all very excited. It is nice to be done with constant classes and finally reaching the point where we can unpack our bags, decorate our huts and make our own schedules. It shall be glorious!