Pictures of Guinea!

Sorry it has taken a while, but pictures of my trip to Guinea can now be seen in my Google photo album: just click "New Mali Album" and enjoy!

Rainy Season Comes to Mali

Its that time of year again; the season where the work just piles up and yet, most volunteers are bored out of their minds. Its raining in Mali.

In my area, the rains started coming sporadically in late June, but since then there is a steady downpour every other day. The rest of the time the weather is still pretty warm (if not downright humid, Miami-style) and the bugs are plenty. Thankfully, I've been gone from my village for a lot of the season already, although I don't mind the rainstorms so much; Mali has some terrific thunderstorms. The problem with rainy season is what happens after the rains: my village is turned into a sea of mud, and everyone heads for their fields. In a way, I rather enjoy the eerie quiet that has descended here. Its the first time in months that I haven't woken to the sound of my neighbors'pounding grain, or the kids on their way to school. The flip side is there is pretty much nothing to do. Its near impossible to get people together for meetings, and forget getting women to sit down for 10 minutes to talk about health problems. So most of the past week I have sat at the health center shooting the shit or in my hut, reading. Most villagers also think its pretty entertaining to try to get me to their fields. Nearly everyone I encounter wants me to go help them farm; the idea that I have no idea how to farm, much less African-style, does not register with them. How do I explain that I can't tell the difference between a weed and a peanut plant? They can't fathom the idea that I have never farmed, because everyone knows how to farm. I can't make them understand that I come from a city so large, there are no farms for miles. I am a city girl, born and raised, and proud of it, furthermore. But in all fairness, I did go out farming once or twice. And it is hard; more than that, its back-breaking. I know a little bit about farming, even if I don't know how to do it myself; my mothers' family is still in California's Central Valley, after all. The two have nothing to do with the other. Basically, there is no mechanized labor in Mali- everything is done by hand. Their hoes literally consist of a foot-long piece of wood with a crude metal spade attached. There is some access to pesticides and fertilizer here, but hardly used to the extent they are in the West. Because of this, most farmers are limited to farming small plots of land; mainly peanuts, millet and corn. I helped weed a peanut field for a few hours, and afterwards I was completely exhausted. I don't know how people here do it, day after day, but they do, and sometimes they grow just enough to feed themselves and a little to sell.

Frankly I think that if aid is going to help, it has to focus a lot more attention on the agriculture sector. Most of Mali's population is involved in farming, one way or the other, and unless better methods are introduced the poverty cycle seems likely to continue. I'm not advocating handing a tractor out to every farmer- that would be disastrous- but small changes may make big impacts.

Guinea- kind of like Mali, but with a crazier leader

As some of you know, I went on vacation last week to Guinea. The plan was travel down south, and then back up through the country until getting to the Fouta Djalon, this tropical rainforest-like area high up in the mountainsl; go hiking and make it back to Mali, all within a week's time. It actually took a little longer than week, but we were successful in getting to the mountains and going hiking. Now I'm not the biggest hiker in the world, but the sights were truly beautiful: 1000ft cliffs, waterfalls, lush vegetation, crazy rock formations and a little wildlife to boot (I promise pictures will be coming soon to an album near you). It was impressive to see such an amazing area because the reality is that most people have never heard of this area, even those from West Africa. It would be a great tourist spot and should be promoted more by Guinea as one of its great natural resources, but like so much of the country, that potential is left alone.
Which brings me to the rest of the country. In some ways, Guinea is a little better off than Mali, at least the parts that I saw. The huts are a little nicer than the ones in my village, and the villages themselves seem to be a little cleaner, a little more organized. The cities seemed a bit nicer than the one I'm used to, Kita, with them seeming to be set on a more organized system. There wasn't as much sewage as I'm used to, and the architecture was a bit more interesting, compared to the square, squat buildings that make up most of Kita. Food is also much cheaper than in Mali, and there seems to be a lot more business going on, more people setting up little enterprises to make a little extra money. In that respect, I was impressed with what I saw in Guinea and realized that there is a lot of promise in Guinea- if they ever get their act together. Unfortunately, along with the beautiful landscape and vast amounts of natural resources (including lots of gold) they also have huge political problems. For those who haven't heard political news from here in a while, back in December the longtime Guinean President died, throwing the country into a bit of a mess. Luckily there was no bloodshed but the military staged a coup, putting a young Captain in charge. Now, I'm sure most of you know where this is going: the military promises presidential elections will be held in December of this year, but most people think thats a bold-faced lie. But, to make things worse, the President is now showing some signs of having mental problems. Not just the issues that come with loving power too much and thinking everyone is trying to kill you, but some honest bi-polarity problems that make him more than the usual unstable. Add to this an army that hasn't been paid in a while, a really terrible currency and bordering neighbors like Sierra Leone, Liberia and Cote d'Ivoire, and you have a country that is going to be having some problems for years to come. However, I do have to recommend Guinea as a place to go, if you don't mind some adventure. The country IS beautiful and the people are nice, and if you can get past the initial problems, then I think it is a great place to be.

One Year and Counting

Sorry it has been so very long since last writing- my life has actually been very full and busy the last couple of months, which I am very grateful for. But now that I've reached the one-year mark since arriving in Mali, its caused me and my fellow volunteers quite a lot of introspection. Most of us still find it a little hard to believe that its been one year already (perhaps a little to our relief). And although it seems sometimes that there isn't much I've done or that there is still a long ways to go linguistically, culturally and professionally, when I stop to think about it I've realy come a long way. I've become used to a certain way of life, one that I never imagined possible this time last year. I've learned a new language and made some new and hopefully long-lasting relationships. I've learned patience (it helps when you bring a book with you) and to take things easy, because there is nothing that is worth rushing for. I've learned that I like my way of life here, but I also love the life I had back at home, where I had family and friends with me every step of the way. I've learned humility and graciousness and the ability to just know when to give up. I've learned what my own limits to the unknown are(larger than I would have originally thought). I've learned that its been one hell of a crazy year, and I have no doubts that the year to come will be just as crazy, so I should enjoy it to the fullest. And I've learned that when I come back to America next year it'll be with a whole new appreciation for West Africa, for home, and for myself.

Success!

After a week in Manantali, I finally saw the hippos! Atually, saw lots of hippos- as the hot season wears on, they keep letting water out into the river, so the tide is pretty high. Every morning I woke up with the hippos roaring and grunting in the middle of the river, and although I had to keep a far distance away from them, (hippos are temperamental creatures, for all their cuteness) it was great to see them finally.

Back once again...

So perhaps you may be wondering where I wandered off to; whether the hippos or snakes got to me, or perhaps Malian transport finally finished me off, like I am waiting for it too. Fear not, I am still alive and well. I have just been rather lazy about writing the past several months, for different reasons.

In April, I went to Paris and Italy for 2 weeks to celebrate Easter with my family. Strangely enough, Malian schools and organizations recognize Easter break too, although the country is majority Muslim. But whatever, a break is a break. I was expecting to have a little trouble re-adjusting to hot showers and electronics and streets with crosswalks and cars, but strangely enough, the big stuff was no problem at all. Even after 9 months away from my old familiar lifestyle, I didn’t have a problem remembering how things worked. The smaller cultural changes, however, did get to me a little bit. When needing to speak in a foreign language, Bambara automatically came out of my mouth, and I had to remind myself that I was not allowed to tell other people’s annoying children to behave. Sadly, two weeks with good food and good company passed by way too quickly, and I came back to Mali in the midst of hot season.

After a few days, again, in Manantali, where the hippos finally appeared this round, I came back to site where everyone was happy to see me. And so the past few weeks I’ve been back in site, trying to get some projects rolling while people have lots of free time on their hands. I can’t tell you the exact temperature; I am unsure as to whether the only thing that has a thermometer, my alarm clock, is actually correct. But it is pretty hot, I assure you, and the majority of people’s time in village is spent doing the bare minimum of activities for the day, and then lying around the rest of the time. This is especially true after lunch, from around noon to about 3pm. I take it as the perfect excuse to go lay in my hut for a couple of hours reading; hence the three books read in the last two weeks. Unfortunately, the mangos are not as plentiful as they were before, which was one upside of hot season. But relief is in sight, sort of. It has started raining sporadically in the last week, and rainy season begins next month, whereas everyone will be heading out to their fields, and I will be doing my best to avoid people who want to teach me how to farm.

“Killer Rabbits”



As an anniversary gift, I was given two little bunnies by my significant other here in Mali, with the intent that I raise them and hopefully they’ll start producing more little bunnies. However, they had the unintended side effect of bringing everyone and anyone to my stick door, as apparently rabbits are not seen in my village very often. Somehow my house as been turned into something of a zoo, since every day I will receive several or more visitors coming to see the animals. Maybe it’s because I’m used to seeing similar looking creatures in petshops across America, but I’m not quite sure why everyone is so fascinated. In some people’s cases, I’m not sure why they’re terrified either. That’s right, various people who come to see my bunnies are downright scared of the little things- I’ve seen little kids scream in terror and grown adults back away when the bunnies hop too closely. I can’t really find out why they are so afraid; do they think my miniscule little pet is going to somehow take down and eat a 150lb Malian? Have they seen Monty Python’s the Holy Grail, is that it? I can’t quite figure it out.

Coming to America (You Wish)

One of my least favorite topics of conversations, that also happens to be one of the most popular with Malians, is about how they want me to take them (i.e. current person I am speaking with at said time) to America when I go back. I will get this comment from everyone and anyone; people I’ve known for a while, and people I’ve just met. Some people are more proactive about it, like, “Why don’t you give me the money so I can buy a visa so we can go back to America together” or just “We should get married so I can go back to America with you”. I try telling them that 1) good luck getting a job right now, because there are none; 2) you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself once you got there anyway. I try explaining that, as I have no real-life skills that help me adapt to a Malian village (i.e. pounding millet, carrying water on my head, etc) they have no real-life skills to deal with a teeming, bustling city. I think they think I’m just being difficult.

It also intrigues/ amuses me that although the “coming to America” comments come up with almost everyone, they are not always talking about themselves. More specifically, I’ve noticed that when men (and its mostly men that say this, by the way) ask to come back with me, they are talking about themselves, and only themselves. However, when I get this comment from women, they hardly EVER ask me to take them; they tell me to take their babies back with me. Maybe they know that they probably wouldn’t do as well beyond the confines of their little village, but want a better life for their children? Maybe its not self-preservation on the men’s part, but an honest desire to make a good living to send back to their family? I don’t know, I am not a sociologist of any sort, but I do find this little social interaction interesting.

Voting, or the Party that gives more…

A few days after I got back to village from Paris, communal elections were held in Mali. Essentially, Malians were voting for a new mayor in what is like their district (since the leader in my village, like all villages, is the chief, nobody’s voting for anyone new anytime soon there). Having been a politics major at one point, I found the leading up to and voting pretty interesting. There actually seemed to be quite a bit of interest in what was going on before I left for vacation, even if I couldn’t seem to understand all of it. I missed all the campaigning while I was gone on vacation, however; unlike the US, candidates don’t really get out until about a month before the actual vote. So although there was a lot of talk before I left, I didn’t actually know who was running. However, a few people from the government did come down to my village for a few days to register all eligible citizens to vote. It was interesting to see this very educated, young workers working their laptops and cameras in the middle of my little mud village, surrounded by excited but confused villagers. It also highlighted one of the problems the government has: there is a lack of registering, of any kind, of citizens with the government. Although its getting a little better as people recognize the importance of government documents, there is no such thing as birth certificates. People have no idea when they were born, or any other kind of relevant information. There were several times that, looking at people’s paperwork, I saw the same person have different information on different papers, including different years of birth! Often, there is no individual paperwork, but simply a list of family members, written out by someone in the mayor’s office and given to the head of family. The said head of family would show up during registration with eligible citizens and show the government worker’s their family list. So although I was excited to see a good turn-out from my village during registration, there is a lot to be done otherwise.

The actual voting process was another matter entirely. I think (obviously keep in mind that I still only understand 50% of what is being said around me) that a lot of the decisions regarding who people are going to vote for is based a lot of gifts from said parties to villagers. It was curious to see a friend of my host father’s show up the night before election to my host family’s house, with a small box of Maggi cubes (like chicken boyen cubes). Although I didn’t understand everything that went on, it seems like they were being handed out to members of the family compound from a certain party. The other part that dismayed me a bit was the fact that family compounds all vote the same; i.e. members of the family vote as the head of family does, and not individually. So although everyone was participating in the voting process, most were not actually making their own choice.

The next day was the elections, and everyone filed over to the schoolhouse. I was happy to see they gave preference to the women first, since they knew the ladies had to hurry back home and get back to their various chores, the men could wait. I was invited to sit down and observe the proceedings, which mostly involved people signing off on their name on the list, taking the ballot to the corner of the room (there was some cloth surrounding it) and putting a mark next to the party image. Pretty straightforward, I think. And a few days later we found out who the winner was, and as of the 1st of June, a local from my village will be the new major of my district. Already he wants me to help him do things too.

Malian Weddings

I attended two weddings in the past couple of weeks at site. Or more accurately, I attended parts of two weddings. A typical Malian wedding seems to go on for 2 or more days, with different parts happening different days. The first day mostly involves showing the bride off, who is covered in a large white cloth, around the village. People cheer and there was even an antique shotgun going off at both events. After the family shows the bride off, the women gather around the bride and sing and dance. This usually happens in the afternoon, and after a while the celebrating stops, and then resumes again after dinner. This time however, the bride is not present for the celebration, but people are out and about celebrating anyway. When I mean celebrating here, and this goes for various different types of gatherings involving dancing, is that there are usually a few musicians or a large boombox playing tapes in a large clearing; people form a large circle and a few of the bravest people dance in the middle of said circle while the spectators clap their hands and cheer them on. In a way, its like those middle school dances back in the day, where everyone was too shy to just dance, but stood on the edges looking on as braver classmates dared to be the center of attention. Anyway, both men and women get together that night to dance, although the couple is not there to join in. The next day, there is more dancing in the afternoon, although this time the bride (I don’t know what men do; during the day the sexes celebrate separately) is sitting in a room on her own, looking shy or aloof or whatnot (I couldn’t figure it out, exactly) while women dance outside. This ends again sometime in the midafternoon, and after dinner that night the same thing goes on as before, although this time the groom and bride may attend. The next day, people go to the couple (men to groom, women to bride) and give their blessings. This is mostly what I understood of what goes on. To be completely honest, I did not go to the festivities every day for either ceremony, for various reasons including my dislike of being out late at night and of dancing in front of crowds (which people consistently try to make me do, because they want to see the foreigner dance), so I can’t give a very accurate description of what goes on all day and what the appropriate wedding formalities are. I am not really that impressed with Malian celebrations, but then again, I come from a country where people like to throw a really good party.

Fun Facts with Numbers

○ 7- hours I waited for the bus from my village to Kita to be fixed; another 4 hours to actually drive 90k

○ 104oF/ 40oC- day temperature in Kita (and always 10 degrees hotter inside)

○ 3- number of baths/showers I now take every day

○ 6 to 8- liters of water I now drink every day

○ 27- hours it took me to finish off a package of Double Stuffed Oreos

○ 21- mosquito bites on my body

○ 8 &1/2- hours I went without going the bathroom, traveling (you better believe it, people)

○ 3-4- mangos I eat these days, on average

○ 821- pages read in the past two weeks

To Smack or Not to Smack

When you stop to think about it, it is strange what cultural adjustments are easy for people, and what are not. Thinking about this one day in village (have you noticed? I sit a lot and think), I realized that many of my teammates and I have adopted several Malian practices; more specifically, there are certain cultural practices regarding children that we’ve become comfortable with. One of these is “chiing” children, or telling children to do something for you. This can range from telling children to mind their siblings, to sending them to the store, to hauling water, to whatever you need done and your child is available for. Funnily enough, this is not limited to commanding your own children to do it. In a way, children in Mali are public property; you can hold, play with, command or smack any child you want, even if you don’t know whose child it is. There have been numerous occasions where random children have wandered up to the clinic, and have been given money to go buy tea or cigarettes, for example. There has never been a time when a parent has told me that I could not hold their child or to stop whatever I’m doing in regards to their child. At first, I was a little apprehensive about telling kids to go do things for myself, as am I pretty capable person, but after 8 months here I’m coming around to the idea.
The other practice regarding children in Mali, to which I am also quickly coming around to, is the practice of smacking children. Maybe you’re wondering why me, of all people, would smack children. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids; but in truth, Malian children are tremendously rude by Western standards, and even a little so by Malian ones. Many children, both in the larger towns and in our villages, will not hesitate to try and get your attention by calling out “Toubab!” as loud and as many times as they can; at times they are honestly just trying to be nice and greet you, but mostly they regard you the same way one regards the monkeys at the zoo. My biggest pet peeve at the moment is children in my own village calling me “tubabmusoni!” i.e. little French/foreign woman, when they actually know my name. Another pet peeve involving children, and Malian culture, is asking for gifts. It is ok in Mali to ask, in a joking kind of way, where one’s gift is when one has gone on a voyage. However, because of my being white, this question is taken more seriously and asked more often, especially by children. I will, on a regular basis, be asked by kids in the street to give them a gift. I’ve been told that they have been taught how to say this in French at school, because foreigners will often hand out trinkets and what not all the time; whether this is true or not, I don’t know. Many children will also overstep the boundaries, trying to get in my house to see what I’m doing, petting and touching me, mocking my language skills, etc. which incites my ever natural reaction to teach them a lesson.
Before you worry, however, that I end up in trouble because I threatened to kick the village chief’s son’s ass, it is perfectly ok in Mali for people to beat children. I’m not saying its right, but it is definitely culturally acceptable for adults and older siblings to hit a wayward child (need not be your own!). In fact, I am constantly encouraged by the adults around me to threaten those offspring that step out of line. I don’t even need to actually touch them; Malian children are familiar enough with a raised hand, stick or tree branch, that they will hightail it in the opposite direction. For my part, I am always surprised that there does not seem to be more violence in Malian society, since spanking children is so common; but then I guess everyone gets over it, and then just does it to their own children when they’re old enough.

The Safest Place I've Ever Lived In

I pride myself on that I feel like I am slowly getting my bearings around here, after 8 months in Mali and 6 living in my village (go me!). Things that normally would have shocked me a year ago seem commonplace now, and I am forgetting how different I found life here. However, there still are those moments of surrealness, where I shake my head and remind myself to let it go. Like when I come to my host family’s for dinner one night, and find a cow head roasting in a fire, its big tongue lolling out of its mouth. I stood there in the compound, watching it slowly roast. I’m not sure who was more intrigued: me, by the fiery cow’s head, or my family, intrigued that I was intrigued (no, I don’t know what happened to it afterwards, and no, I don’t want to know). Or when the doctor tells me that everyone will be on vacation for “Paques” next month, and seeing my confused look, explains to me that this is when Jesus Christ died and then rose from the dead (“it’s a Christian holiday”). I guess I am grateful that there are still moments like these that keep me on my toes.

Anyway, time for your cultural notes of the day from Mali. This topic was suggested by my father, who m in our phone conversation the other day, was surprised by the polar opposites that make up security, and violence, in our separate worlds right now. While the BBC keeps me up to date on how the drug cartels are running amuck in Mexico, the only thing dangerous about my village is the donkeys wandering around. In reality, there is little crime or violence in my little town, and if there is, there is no police force that would deal with it. As far as I have been able to tell, any matters dealing with property damage or loss, or other such disputes, are either taken to the chief of village or to the commune mayor’s office. There are no security forces, either local or military, in my area; as far as I can tell, there is a slight presence at the Guinean/Malian border 25k south of me, and in Kita, 90k to my north. Which often surprises me, because although Mali is a fairly peaceful country (especially in my area) it is also well-known that people are continuously smuggling goods (and God knows what else) from Guinea.
The only governmental presence I have seen is the mayor’s office, the nature reserve rangers, and the border control force (the only people I’ve seen with weapons). Because of the decentralization process that Mali undertook 10 to 15 years ago, the aim is that local communities are responsible for development and governance, and not the central government. Although this doesn’t mean that my village is responsible for patrolling the area, there is less of a federal presence, at all governmental levels, than one would expect. It is meant to encourage local participation in solving local problems, although so far I have heard mixed results.

And Hot Season Begins...

My mother pointed out that it has been over a month since I last wrote on here, and I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t know what to write about, what will be interesting or what cultural norms people are interested in. And I have been traveling about the countryside a bit the past month, which has been nice. Like I said, I did some visiting after the January training: I went to Manantali (again) with some girlfriends, and saw my significant other, all of which was great. Unfortunately, the rest of my travel plans had to be cancelled because something came up, so I didn’t get to go to the rest of the places I was planning to. But Manantali is always very relaxing (even if the hippos still refuse to show up) and I spent a week doing nothing but reading and relaxing. And then it was back to site; everyone was very happy to see me and thought I’d been gone for a very long time. I’m slowly starting to get things I want to get started done, although like everything in Mali, its slow-going. But that’s how it is here. Which brings me to hot season… because if there wasn’t much happening before, there is even less now. There is no farming going on, and all the harvesting is done. Mostly women still carry out their day to day chores, like cooking, washing, etc. and tend to small garden plots on the side. Many also try to do some small income generating activities, like selling vegetables. The men still kinda do what they always do: make tea and chat, a lot. This is also the season of making the mud bricks they use to build houses, and of fixing the thatch roofs and fences that are everywhere. But there is definitely a lot more sitting around and chatting than before. Which works well for me a lot, because I don’t like the heat so much. Its not so bad yet, but will be soon. I’m not sure the actual temperatures; I think right now daytime temperatures outside reach to well over 100o. It’s a little cooler in my thatch hut, but only by about 10 or 15 degrees. The mud huts here are very nice because they stay relatively cool during the day, but at night its pretty unbearable. Most people tend to sleep outdoors, which I have been doing. At first it was relatively frightening, sleeping on my little mattress in the middle of my compound by myself, but after living in Mexico City and Los Angeles, I think my village is pretty darn safe. For some reason I have also taken to sleeping more now, probably because of the heat. I know its always gotten very hot in California, but without so much as an electric fan or cold water anywhere, there is not much to do to cool off. What makes it a little more unbearable is that it is also terribly dusty; the harmattan winds coming off the Sahara blow dust and dirt everywhere and anywhere, so not only am I sweaty, but I am also very dirty. Its an interesting state to be in, to be honest. I’m glad I will be spending a few weeks of it on vacation in Parisnext month with my family, because its going to be hard to be that sweaty for the next several months. There is one other topic I wanted to mention, since I think there are probably some misconceptions about it, and that is modesty in Mali. Surprisingly, for a Muslim country, Mali is pretty lax. Part of it is just cultural, part just common sense. Not that Malians don’t care a great deal about their appearance and show as much skin as Americans do, but women aren’t required to cover their heads or worry about showing off parts of their body. For some reason, which I guess has something to do with men thinking naughty thoughts, women do not show their legs, or at least anything above their knees (unless they are working). Women don’t wear pants ever in my village, but wrap a 2 meter length of cloth around as a skirt, called a pagne. Its surprisingly comfortable and once you figure out how to wrap it, pretty secure. Actually, the top half of a woman’s body is pretty laissez-faire, because odds are that they have a small baby that needs to be fed constantly. So I (and this includes all volunteers, even males) have seen a fair amount of breasts here. Probably more than I will ever want to see, ever again. And, although I have never said this before, I am now pretty thankful for bras. Because you can imagine what a lifetime of feeding numerous babies and wearing loose shirts with no support does for your chest. Women in my village are actually fairly jealous of my bras, and ask constantly if they can have them (maybe when I leave). So its not as modest as one might think. If they are working, women generally wear a pagne and a t-shirt; if they are going out or it’s a holiday, they wear a complet (notice my photos from swear-in). Men do not show much skin either; men never wear shorts and always have a shirt on. A lot of men, especially the younger set, wear Western style clothing for working in the fields or just being around village, but during holidays will wear Malian outfits. The typical Malian male outfit is called a bubu, and consists of pajama-like pants, and a long, flowy, loose tunic with big sleeves that extends down to the men’s knees. These are made from several different types of fabric, regardless of color or brightness (and believe me, neon pink is not a problem here). Malians do like to be put together and presentable when they are out in public, and will go to great lengths to do so. Personally, I still have problems comprehending how anyone stays clean here, but I try my best to keep up.