I’m pretty sure the next two years will be a lot of my shuffling around between Kita and village, village and Kita, and then maybe traveling to other places in Mali once in a while. As for now though, we new volunteers are technically limited to staying in our own region for the first 3 months of training; no traveling into Bamako unless for specific reasons, and no visiting other volunteers in other regions. This will supposedly insure that we really get to know our villages and become well-integrated into our communities. That is basically the goal for us right now, since there is no other thing we can really do except learn the language and learn what kind of projects our village needs and wants, and what we can reasonably accomplish as volunteers here for two years. It’s actually a long, long drawn out process, much more than one would think. Most volunteers don’t really start doing any kind of work until January, at the earliest, because most are trying to come up with a good project that will be sustainable in the community long after the volunteer is gone; not an easy task in many Peace Corps countries. It helps that everyone is all on the same page when it comes to this, and at least in this way volunteers come together and support each other.
Anyway, I thought I’d actually explain what I do all day, because I talk a lot about how much I DON’T do and perhaps some people don’t really believe that? I get up early every morning, and walk to the water pump a hundred or so yards from my house to get water for my day. Make myself tea and heat up water so I can take a hot bucket bath (because cold water at 6:30 in the morning is nobody’s idea of fun, even if it gets to 90 or 100 later in the day). And then I go to my host family’s house, where I have a corn porridge type thing, with sugar mixed in. After that I sit around with my language instructor and some other men, sometimes with another woman (who are usually the ones doing all the work here, so not always likely). Normally we make green tea, the first batch of the day. Now let me stop and explain about green tea in this country, which is a big thing. Malians love to buy loose-leaf green tea and make it over a little wood burner. After the tea has been boiled, they had sugar to the mix, and then mix it by pouring the tea into the cup and back into the pot, repetitively. The cup is actually not like the mugs we use in the States; they more resemble shot glasses. So you know you have a person who knows how to make tea if you have a nice bit of bubbles and foam in your shot glass. Usually people only have one glass to serve with, so people are given the tea in order of importance, sex, age, etc. Normally I would be last to get the tea because of age and gender, but because I am the foreigner/guest, I get served first. And tea is made three times, until the third cup consists mostly of sugar and less of tea flavor. This whole process can take anywhere from a half to a whole hour. I mention this because this is a HUGE ritual in Mali, at least in the southern regions like Bamako and Kayes. Throughout the day I might get tea (and I mean the 3 different stages of) three or four times a day. As you all well know, I love tea, but I might never want green tea again after Mali. Anyway, after tea with my instructor, I might wander over to the clinic, or to another family’s compound, and chat. I like hanging out at the clinic because I sometimes get to work a little, such as helping with baby weighings or watching pregnant women get check-ups (although there still remains some confusion as to my role there, and how I am NOT allowed to help with births or anything that involves blood and bodily fluids). Sometimes we just sit around and chat, if there are no patients that day. Around noon I head back to my host family’s house and have lunch, which usually involves rice/corn and sauce, which I eat with my hands or a spoon, depending on how badly my host father thinks I suck at eating that day. After that, I usually hang around at my family’s compound, another compound or the clinic again and pretend to chat. With harvest time almost upon us, I can sometimes help shelling peanuts or corn while we sit around talking and drinking tea. Sometimes they worry about me hurting my hands and won’t let me do anything except sit there. This usually continues until about dinnertime, around 7, when I eat corn to, a dough like substance, and sauce, and sometimes fish balls (ground up fish fried into little balls, which sounds disgusting but is actually pretty good). After dinnertime I’m usually fed up with trying to speak Bambara and eating carbs and sugar all day, and do my best to explain that I want to go home and rest, and no, I don’t want to chat anymore, thank you, and no, I’m not weird because I want to be alone, I’m just American. They are slowly getting used to the idea of me being alone in my little hut for a few hours a day, because in truth Malians have no such thing as private or quiet time. People are always visiting each other, and always wandering in and out of each other’s houses. Which is another thing that is hard for most volunteers to adjust to, because even the most outgoing American likes to have an hour or two to themselves in a place they can call their own. But eventually they understand that I’m tired and want to go home, and my host father insists on walking me home the couple hundred yards from his compound to mine, because God knows what could happen to me in my little village of 2000 that hasn’t already happened after living in Mexico City and Los Angeles my entire life. And then I get my quiet time, where I listen to the BBC (in English, and not one of their other numerous languages) and read my book or study language. That’s my day in a nutshell; that’s what I’ve been doing since I got to Mali. Eventually I will be working, (I promise) and not sitting around using Americans’ precious tax dollars, after I learn how to.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
In Kita Once More.....
So I realized that I had written a nice little description of the swear-in ceremony and the preparing in Kita for site drop-off, but when I arrived at the internet café to post it, I had forgotten to save the post on my USB drive. Hence, there has been no blog post since August, I know. A very long time to have no news. But here is my swear-in update, and an update on what has happened since I was dropped off at site…
The swear-in ceremony was held Friday morning, September 12th at the American embassy, and was everything a ceremony should be: short and simple. The country director spoke, as did the American representative to Mali and a few of my fellow volunteers. And then we took the oath to uphold the American constitution and defend America from all enemies, and to do our best as Peace Corps volunteers. Unfortunately we didn’t know the oath, and weren’t very good at repeating after the American official, so it came out sorta like: “I promise to defend America, uhh, from all enemies foreign and domestic, uhhhh….the end.” At least she made sure we said our actual name, and not just “state your name.”
After the ceremony we headed to the American Club, where we got to swim in the pool and eat hamburgers and hot dogs and just chill out. I imagine that they wanted to give us a piece of American culture before we head out into the wilderness (so to speak) and can’t get such a thing as a hamburger for a while. Then we headed out on the town, where we met other serving volunteers and celebrated becoming official volunteers ourselves. We also received our group name, chosen by our volunteer trainers, in grand Peace Corps fashion: my fellow ’08 volunteers and I are now known as the Honey Bunches of Oaters (Hobos). Saturday was spent getting too little sleep and spending too much money on food. Finally we all came back to Tubaniso So again, where we said our good-byes and packed up to leave early Sunday morning. I probably won’t be seeing the rest my teammates (especially those 5 I spent the long 2 months training with) until January, when we’re back in Bamako for more in-depth training. I was the first volunteer of my group here to be installed, and hence spent the first two days in Kita doing all kinds of shopping and packing since my compound was completely empty of everything. And then Tuesday morning, September 15th, I was packed into the Peace Corps vehicle with all my stuff, driven out to bush, and deposited in my little hut amid the Malian villagers. And then the car drove away. Probably one of the biggest, “Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into?” moments of my life.
However, it has actually been a nice couple of weeks, if not slightly crazy. My village has no telephone reception, no electricity, no running water, no radio frequency and no real contact with the rest of the world except for the villages directly surrounding it, sooo I didn’t see or speak to any of my fellow teammates since leaving Kita. I spent most of my days sitting around, speaking to people, drinking tea (green tea prepared over a little charcoal burner is a big thing here), trying to learn Bambara. Thankfully everyone has been very nice, very patient, very understanding so far with my lack of skills, although after a while my patience tends to wear very thin. Of course, I can’t say that it was easy either- most nights I was definitely left wondering what I had gotten myself into, and why. I keep telling myself that with time, and understanding of the language and culture, I will feel more comfortable in my role here and stop questioning everything right now. It is pretty much the same with all the volunteers here, since things are so very different from what we know, and right now we have no purpose and no tangible goals. Which is hard for us as Americans, because we are so used to always being busy, always working hard for some reason or other. I think it is going be like that a lot for the next two years, but especially the next couple of months as we spend time just learning about our village and learning Bambara.
But enough of my internal turmoil. Since I have the time, I thought I’d give a little insight into Malian culture. I’ve written a little about Malian families, how men have more than one wife normally, lots of children, and huge numbers of relatives. It is infinitely more complicated in village. The social structure is basically the same: men have more than one wife, and numerous children, but everyone is also related to each other in my village, and there are only 8 or 9 different last names, so I am having a hard time keeping everyone’s name straight and who is related to who and how. To make things harder, girls in village actually get married and starting having children when they are still girls: around 13 or 14 years old. And they continue having children for as long as possible, which can obviously be up til 35, 40 years old. So my host mother, who I believe is in her late 30’s, not only has adult children who have babies of their own, but has babies herself. So it has been a huge shock to me over the past week, as I talk to the women who seem to be much older because they have been wives and mothers for a long time, but are really only my age. I think at least it has been as huge a shock to them to find out I am 23 and not married.
The other thing making life complicated, as I said, is the last names. Many ethnic groups in Mali live in certain regions, such as the Arabs/Tuaregs in the north, Dogon in Dogon country in the middle, etc. Most of the people in my village belong to two different ethnic groups, the Peulh and the Forgyron. Stereotypically, the Peulh were cattle herders, while the Forgyron (Numu in Bambara) were metal workers. I, Mamine (my last name has since been changed to Diallo) belong to the Peulh’, which I find rather fitting seeing as my mother’s family was in the dairy business for a long time. Among each group there are only three or four different last names, which is how people know what ethnicity you are. So, for example, among the Peulh there is the Diallo, the Diakite, the Sidibe and the Sangare. Which brings me to joking cousins, an important part of Malian culture and one of the more amusing ones. Among ethnic groups, and sometimes between, people of different last names will insult and joke with each other. There is really no limit to what people will say, but the general insults in my village between people is that they are each other’s little brothers, that they are thieves and liars, that they are not good people, that they are the other families’ slave (yes, I have told people they are my slave. No, I don’t think they got the irony). It’s a fantastic way to break the ice and get to know one another, which some people say is why Mali hasn’t had any major ethnic conflicts such as happens in other African nations. I had originally thought that many people would find it strange that the white foreigner was trying to insult them for being a Diakite or Sidibe, but actually the villagers get a huge kick out of it. Unfortunately, my insults are fairly limited right now, so I have gotten a little tired of talking about how much the other families suck compared to the Diallos’, but hopefully once I get better I can be really insulting. Because as we all know, I can be really insulting on a day to day basis.
I will actually be in Kita for the rest of the week, doing some training, so I will try to come back and post more about my life in a Malian village, and I hope to hear from you all too!
The swear-in ceremony was held Friday morning, September 12th at the American embassy, and was everything a ceremony should be: short and simple. The country director spoke, as did the American representative to Mali and a few of my fellow volunteers. And then we took the oath to uphold the American constitution and defend America from all enemies, and to do our best as Peace Corps volunteers. Unfortunately we didn’t know the oath, and weren’t very good at repeating after the American official, so it came out sorta like: “I promise to defend America, uhh, from all enemies foreign and domestic, uhhhh….the end.” At least she made sure we said our actual name, and not just “state your name.”
After the ceremony we headed to the American Club, where we got to swim in the pool and eat hamburgers and hot dogs and just chill out. I imagine that they wanted to give us a piece of American culture before we head out into the wilderness (so to speak) and can’t get such a thing as a hamburger for a while. Then we headed out on the town, where we met other serving volunteers and celebrated becoming official volunteers ourselves. We also received our group name, chosen by our volunteer trainers, in grand Peace Corps fashion: my fellow ’08 volunteers and I are now known as the Honey Bunches of Oaters (Hobos). Saturday was spent getting too little sleep and spending too much money on food. Finally we all came back to Tubaniso So again, where we said our good-byes and packed up to leave early Sunday morning. I probably won’t be seeing the rest my teammates (especially those 5 I spent the long 2 months training with) until January, when we’re back in Bamako for more in-depth training. I was the first volunteer of my group here to be installed, and hence spent the first two days in Kita doing all kinds of shopping and packing since my compound was completely empty of everything. And then Tuesday morning, September 15th, I was packed into the Peace Corps vehicle with all my stuff, driven out to bush, and deposited in my little hut amid the Malian villagers. And then the car drove away. Probably one of the biggest, “Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into?” moments of my life.
However, it has actually been a nice couple of weeks, if not slightly crazy. My village has no telephone reception, no electricity, no running water, no radio frequency and no real contact with the rest of the world except for the villages directly surrounding it, sooo I didn’t see or speak to any of my fellow teammates since leaving Kita. I spent most of my days sitting around, speaking to people, drinking tea (green tea prepared over a little charcoal burner is a big thing here), trying to learn Bambara. Thankfully everyone has been very nice, very patient, very understanding so far with my lack of skills, although after a while my patience tends to wear very thin. Of course, I can’t say that it was easy either- most nights I was definitely left wondering what I had gotten myself into, and why. I keep telling myself that with time, and understanding of the language and culture, I will feel more comfortable in my role here and stop questioning everything right now. It is pretty much the same with all the volunteers here, since things are so very different from what we know, and right now we have no purpose and no tangible goals. Which is hard for us as Americans, because we are so used to always being busy, always working hard for some reason or other. I think it is going be like that a lot for the next two years, but especially the next couple of months as we spend time just learning about our village and learning Bambara.
But enough of my internal turmoil. Since I have the time, I thought I’d give a little insight into Malian culture. I’ve written a little about Malian families, how men have more than one wife normally, lots of children, and huge numbers of relatives. It is infinitely more complicated in village. The social structure is basically the same: men have more than one wife, and numerous children, but everyone is also related to each other in my village, and there are only 8 or 9 different last names, so I am having a hard time keeping everyone’s name straight and who is related to who and how. To make things harder, girls in village actually get married and starting having children when they are still girls: around 13 or 14 years old. And they continue having children for as long as possible, which can obviously be up til 35, 40 years old. So my host mother, who I believe is in her late 30’s, not only has adult children who have babies of their own, but has babies herself. So it has been a huge shock to me over the past week, as I talk to the women who seem to be much older because they have been wives and mothers for a long time, but are really only my age. I think at least it has been as huge a shock to them to find out I am 23 and not married.
The other thing making life complicated, as I said, is the last names. Many ethnic groups in Mali live in certain regions, such as the Arabs/Tuaregs in the north, Dogon in Dogon country in the middle, etc. Most of the people in my village belong to two different ethnic groups, the Peulh and the Forgyron. Stereotypically, the Peulh were cattle herders, while the Forgyron (Numu in Bambara) were metal workers. I, Mamine (my last name has since been changed to Diallo) belong to the Peulh’, which I find rather fitting seeing as my mother’s family was in the dairy business for a long time. Among each group there are only three or four different last names, which is how people know what ethnicity you are. So, for example, among the Peulh there is the Diallo, the Diakite, the Sidibe and the Sangare. Which brings me to joking cousins, an important part of Malian culture and one of the more amusing ones. Among ethnic groups, and sometimes between, people of different last names will insult and joke with each other. There is really no limit to what people will say, but the general insults in my village between people is that they are each other’s little brothers, that they are thieves and liars, that they are not good people, that they are the other families’ slave (yes, I have told people they are my slave. No, I don’t think they got the irony). It’s a fantastic way to break the ice and get to know one another, which some people say is why Mali hasn’t had any major ethnic conflicts such as happens in other African nations. I had originally thought that many people would find it strange that the white foreigner was trying to insult them for being a Diakite or Sidibe, but actually the villagers get a huge kick out of it. Unfortunately, my insults are fairly limited right now, so I have gotten a little tired of talking about how much the other families suck compared to the Diallos’, but hopefully once I get better I can be really insulting. Because as we all know, I can be really insulting on a day to day basis.
I will actually be in Kita for the rest of the week, doing some training, so I will try to come back and post more about my life in a Malian village, and I hope to hear from you all too!
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