Solar Panels!

Sorry it has taken me so long to keep you updated on recent happenings from Goro; with my imminent departure (give or take a few months) my mind has been full of too many things. But your donations and gifts were not in vain, because solar panels have been installed and the clinic has electricity!! The freezer is semi-working on the solar power, because it sucks up way too much energy; I'm working on remedying the situation. But the staff are very happy with having electricity at night when they have all those deliveries or medical emergencies. We actually had a big "inauguration" party on May 22nd to celebrate, with lots of dignitaries from Bamako and Kita coming in for the day, and speeches from everyone involved (including yours truly). I promise photos and more news updates will be coming in the next few weeks, just please have patience with me.

List Time!

Well, if you know me, you know I love to make lists. And because I have endless amounts of free time here, I've been able to make lots of them. Lately, I've been listing things I am going to miss when I leave here; lists of what I'm not going to; lists of what I'm looking forward to; lists of what I'm going to do first. I guess it gives you an idea, when one's honest with one's self, about whats important and what's not. To me, I am realizing that although I am really looking forward to coming home and fitting into American society again, there will be some things that I actually really enjoyed here. People talk about the going back and acclimating to US culture as the hardest part. We'll see if thats true, but I know that there will be some things that I'm happy to leave behind, and some that I'd be happy to never have to deal with again. So, anyway....

(p.s. Senegal photos have been put up! Some of them anyway. Its still a work in progress)


Things I will Miss
Being able to read for hours
My favorite little kids
The open sky
Those couple of kids that just have to run up and shake my hand, no matter what they, or I, am doing
Being able to hold anyone’s child
Being able to smack anyone’s child
Teaching people about the U.S. or learning about Mali
The friendly people
BBC radio (its just not the same over the internet)
Sitting quietly, just making tea or enjoying the day

Things I won’t Miss
Not being able to understand 50% of whats being said to me
Transport
The heat… the bugs… the dust
Being stared at
The food
The lack of communication with the outside world
Being the center of attention/ topic of conversation everywhere I go
The lack of privacy
Not really having anything to do
Being woken up at 6am every day because of children/ goats/ millet pounding, and then not being able to go to bed early because of children/ goats/ load music playing

The home stretch

Its hard to believe now that almost 2 years have gone by since I came to Mali. 22 months since I first arrived in country, 20 since I first moved into my little hut. I have to admit that although there are going to be some things I miss, and that I have grown fond of my little village, I am looking forward to going home. I feel like most volunteers feel the way I do- even though those of us that have stayed have made a great many connections here and learned a lot about not only Mali, but about ourselves, we are ready to move on with our lives. Not to say that we will ever forget our experiences here, or ever able to completely explain what these two years have been like. As for me, I have learned a great deal about myself. I’ve learned I’m stronger in some ways than I thought, and weaker in some. There were many moments when I truly didn’t think I would make it; now I am a little surprised that I have. I’ve learned why its so hard to effect change in places like Mali; why development is so slow. I realized that people from across continents who don’t even know me, and don’t have much themselves, can welcome me with open arms, despite our differences. I think we both have learned that despite those differences, there is still a lot of common ground, and hence, many opportunities for friendship. In the end, I believe they have given me as much, if not more, than I have given them.

With them knowing of my imminent departure, my villagers have started to get a little sentimental on me. People are telling me that I can’t go, that I need to stay longer because they are going to miss me. I admit I feel flattered- if nothing else, I have made a special place for myself in my villager’s hearts. I think they know, deep down, why I’m in such a hurry to go home. They understand my need to go back to my family, my own culture, even if they don’t understand all those specific things I miss like Starbucks and movie theaters. I feel a little guilty for being so excited to leave, but I don’t think they hold it against me. They are used to people leaving because they have to, for one reason or other. Now they wonder if they will ever see me again, and I wonder if they’ll still remember me if I ever did come back.

Senegal

Well, its hot season now here in Mali, so to escape the heat (and take a break) Dave took me to Senegal for a little vacay. He'd been to Dakar twice before, but since I'd never been we decided we could both use a little beach time. Overall I think Senegal was really nice, really modern in some ways that Mali will take a long time to achieve. The people weren't as friendly or as helpful as I've found Malians to be (especially in central Dakar) but everything else was great.

The first half of our vacation was spent in a little beach town a little south of Dakar. It was rather quaint; we stayed in a nice, simple hotel owned by some foreigners, and spent a lot of time on the beach eating and reading. It seemed like it was more of a hippie-ish influenced town, at least the area where all the foreigners came to vacation. Guys would hang out on the beach all day, doing nothing but working out or chatting up tourists or playing music; I was amused to see a lot of buff looking guys around, looking to act as "host" for any group of foreigners willing to take them on, preferably women. But the atmosphere was definitely relaxed, and thankfully they seemed a little used to tourists (although of course they were also looking to gouge us in some ways financially) so we were left to do our own thing.

Dakar was a little less hassle-free. Although Dakar was a surprisingly modern city, with skyscrapers, real downtown, good restaurants and plenty of foreigners walking around, there were also a lot of street hagglers and vendors who loved a white face. Walking around we got interrupted a lot by everyone selling everything. We also got interrupted by Senegalese just wanting to talk to a foreigner. I'm sure a lot of it was non-sincere, since Dakar has something of a reputation for being full of pickpockets and muggers, like any large city. But other than being annoying, the vendors did nothing worse to us.

I was a little surprised by how many foreigners live in Dakar. There is clearly a bigger expat community here, not just of Americans and French but other Europeans and Canadians as well. A lot of them work with NGOs, but I feel like a lot of them also just like living in Dakar and setting up businesses. Unlike Mali, there is also a larger community of affluent Senegalese. Where it seems that in Bamako only the expats and a few Malians are frequenting the expensive restaurants and the foreigner shops, in Dakar there were as many Senegalese teenagers lining up to get ice cream as there were foreigners. So although most of Senegal remains mired in poverty, the capital itself seems to be doing well.

One field trip we took in the middle of our vacation was to the island of Goree, which is really just a tiny isle 40 or 50 miles away from Dakar. What was significant about it however, was that it used to be a transport stop for the slave trade. There is one house turned museum on the isle for tourists to visit; it was interesting/ depressing seeing the cave like rooms downstairs where Africans were held before being shipped across the Atlantic. One can forget here after a while what happened for so many centuries here, but Goree was a stark reminder of all that terrible history. It also had a more recently distinguished history of being a French military post during WWII; there are several antiquated missile shooters and bunkers scattered around the island. Unfortunately, people have since taken over the bunkers as their homes, so there isn't that much to see except the outside of these things. But Goree was probably my favorite part of the trip; there is a history there that you don't see with a lot of other places. The architecture was beautiful; large, colorful mansions with yards full of flowers and balconies where one could just sit to watch the day pass by. We actually stayed in one of these mansions; we had a room to ourself, that looked like it was meant for an island governor or some well-off lady. There were old-fashioned shutters on the windows and a little balcony overlooking the courtyard. It was a rather romantic place to stay on the island, despite the sad history of the place.

And now here we are, back in Mali. I know many of you are wondering how my solar panel project is going; so am I. I head back to my little village soon, so I promise to give everyone an update next time I am in town and can access my blog again. I will try to put up more pictures next time in town as well; there are plenty left of my parents' trip, and now I will have plenty to show about Senegal.

Hollywood Comes to the Bush

The newest big thing here the acquisition of a TV with accompanying DVD player. There is no electricity here people buy small generators to make them run. Usually they buy a combination package with bad Hollywood action movies starring Jean-Claude Van Damm or some other terrible action actor; corny Chinese films; Malian music videos; and poorly made W. African soaps. I’ve gone to watch at some people’s houses’, but since its often in Bambara or French I figure I can sit around not understanding whats going on any time I want so I don’t have to sit around a TV to do it.

The latest person here in village to buy one is the pharmacist at my clinic. He kept asking me to come over one night to watch one of his numerous American films, so with my friend and host mom in tow I finally went. Since I was kind of the guest of honor I got to pick out the movie. Among the numerous doubtful choices were also some more watchable films; of which I decided to choose the Pirates of the Caribbean (which, to be honest, I love. I’ve watched it a hundred times and could watch it a hundred times more). I also figured it was tame enough for the viewing audience. In the process of getting the TV set up and picking out the right movie we soon had a crowd of 30 people or more, mostly children, who were not going to pass up the chance to watch this awesome invention. Unfortunately, due to some sketchy Chinese titling (China wins again!) it turned out to be the third Pirates movie, not the first. Well, not to outline the plot here, but this movie is pretty confusing, even when you watch it in your own language and have seen the prequels. I saw it in theaters and came out seriously scratching my head. So one could only imagine what the poor Malians were feeling, especially when the concept of the ocean, pirates and colonial England is unknown to them. Fortunately half the children crashed halfway through the movie, right there on the ground where they had been sitting (which made it seem like some sort of small battlefield). Well, three hours and one large squid-man villain later, my friend summed up the evening like this: “You’re right, Americans are crazy.” Exactly what I’ve been saying all along.

Parents Visit to Mali

So, as many of you know, my parents came to Mali to visit me last month. They came to my village, met my friends and coworkers, got a little party, and then I took them up to the north of the country, where they got to do hiking in the Dogon cliffs and hang out by the Niger. After their trip, I asked them to write a little something about their trip. I thought it was going to be more about what they did and what they thought about Mali, but they had something different to say.

My father's essay is first (thats just how it came out, really) and then my mom's. Also, some of you have seen the pictures on my Mali album; there are more to come, I promise! However, if youre in Mexico (or the Bay Area) you can just call my parents up and they will be more than willing to show you every one of them themselves. Without further ado....

Our trip to Mali was a seminal experience for many reasons which I hope to detail below, but there is no question I came away with a tremendous sense of pride and admiration for Jackie’s physical endurance and especially for her strength of character. I know many other kids are doing the same in Mali, trying to improve the lives of a people who don’t always seem to want to improve their lot, and it is Jackie’s and their ability to cope with this frustration, in addition to the physical and emotional stresses of the experience, which impresses me the most.


February is not “hot” season yet in Mali, yet for someone coming from a temperate climate like Mexico the heat was oppressive. The combination of sun, wind and the ever-present dust gives one a new appreciation for cold water and clean clothes.


Clothes in Mali are a contradiction however you look at them. People love color (maybe as a contrast to their surroundings) and just like in Mexico it was impressive to see them, especially women - turned out in bright, colorful, but especially clean outfits; and when you realize what it takes for these clothes to be washed and dried it is even more amazing. You also see another side of clothing in Mali, mostly on the kids and young teens, and that is the presence of every random, defective or otherwise rejected t-shirt from the western hemisphere.


The people in Bamako were often tall, thin and with strong features, especially younger men and women, better looking than I had expected. The women in Mali, as you have no doubt seen and read elsewhere, do most of the “heavy lifting” in day to day life. They are up before dawn pounding millet for meals, collecting firewood, tending to vegetable gardens, cleaning huts and washing clothes, often for many children and relatives. Women and children are the ones in charge of water availability and delivery; everywhere we went we saw them carrying large green and yellow buckets or yellow plastic drums from wells or pumps up steep stairs or embankments to their homes.


The children were everywhere, just as in Mexico they are a source of labor and support for the family economy in one way or another. While malnutrition is not on a scale that often comes to mind when you think of Africa, the diet is obviously so deficient in protein that you do see your share of swollen bellies, and this is sometimes hard to reconcile with what we do with the food we discard in the west. However, they’re still kids, and when Karin broke out a bottle of bubbles and let them blow them, or when we took their picture and showed it back to them, their faces lit up like only a child’s face can; I remember looking at Jax during this and saying how amazing it was they could be happy with the smallest things.


It is on this same topic that I will close for now, lest this become a poor excuse for a documentary. One of the most moving experiences, and I can’t quite fathom why, was the visit to the stage house in Kita on the way to Jackie’s village. Like everything in Mali the house is hot, dusty and dirty, and everywhere there is evidence - both good and bad - that a bunch of twenty-somethings live here. There is the TV room with its DVD collection, and the bathroom which is a step up from the hole in the ground in most villages (but only just). But what really brought home to me the experience for you kids was the wall with cubbyholes were everyone “stores” their prize posessions for their breaks from village life. These were filled with what we take for granted here: drink mixes, soups, strawberry jam, granola bars, books, magazines, and things which in and of themselves have become luxuries and pieces of home for so many kids so far away.


I have nothing but the most heartfelt admiration for you, Jackie, and your Peace Corps teammates. For you to be the first volunteer in your village, so far from Kita and other members for 20 months, and under the conditions I have only experienced for a week makes me so proud of you I cannot easily put it into words. I am very glad your mother and I were able to get a taste of your life the last 2 years, and to see you interact in fluent Bambara with your villagers and the people in Dogon were moments I will never forget. Whatever the outcome in the next few months, you have made the lives of your village and of your parents better than before, and that is certainly something only a chosen few can lay claim to.

Our Malian Adventure


Chris & I thought we knew what to expect from our trip to Mali. Jacqueline has been there for a year and 8 months and we’ve heard of her experiences.


We came away impressed by the friendliness of the people and blown away by our daughter’s fortitude. We knew it would be hot, of course, but the unrelenting heat is exhausting: there’s no place with a fan to cool off and the temperature doesn’t drop significantly at night to give much relief. The dust is minute and permeates everything. Thirty seconds after exiting the bathroom from a bucket bath you’d like to take another because you’re already covered head to toe in a fine covering again. After experiencing the living conditions for ourselves, we’re even more proud of Jax for sticking it out and trying to make others’ lives better.


The people received us with open arms and smiles of welcome. We were given presents of chickens and food from people who didn’t appear to have enough for themselves, but wanted us to feel welcome and know that they appreciate having our daughter there. Interacting with people in Jacqueline’s village, especially the children, was a highlight of the trip. We had brought a bottle of bubbles, and the smiles and laughter as the children blew bubbles for the first time was wonderful. When was the last time we stopped and enjoyed doing something so simple? And the babies, after adjusting to the shock of another white face, were adorable.


Thank you, Jax & David, for arranging everything and showing us around “your” country. You were patient and forbearing, and wonderful hagglers while we helped the Malian economy (some people call it shopping).


I can’t honestly say that it’s a country I would want to return to; but I’m very glad that we visited. Jacqueline, and her fellow Peace Corps volunteers who have persevered, are examples of the best of their generation.

Updates from Mali... Music and more

Sorry it has been a while since I updated this thing. Not that I’ve been spectacularly busy around here, but it doesn’t seem like I have had much to report on lately. I arrived back in Mali a little over a month ago, and after readjusting to the time change and the cultural change, I went back to village to see if they missed me. They had, although life went on as normal. And I am readjusting to being back, although I am also getting used to the fact that my time left here is indeed rather short. Although I know I will miss Mali, I’m looking forward to moving back home; getting a “real” job; being able to go to a well-stocked grocery and cook my own meals again; and generally living out a normal life. But that’s getting ahead of myself because I still have about 6 months to go here before finishing service.

In other news, I have not been idly sitting by in village the ENTIRE month since I last wrote. One event I did go to back in early February was the Festival sur le Niger, or the Segou Music Festival. Since Mali is rather renowned for its’ music, there are several music festivals held every year here; one is the Festival in the Desert, held at Timbuktu, the other the aforementioned Segou Music Festival. The first we’re not allowed to go to, the second we are. Anyway, I joined the ranks of numerous other volunteers, expats, tourists and middle-class Malians heading to Segou to enjoy the cultural shows that were Mali, both professional and not. I was impressed with Segou, and with the Festival itself. I’d never been to Segou before, but it is one of the more touristy cities in Mali, being situated on the Niger river and having more tourist oriented hotels, shopping and sightseeing opportunities (unlike my own boring regional town). Of course, with this comes the ordained souvenir hawkers and beggars, who were having a field day with the influx. I personally was a little shocked at the number of white people wondering around; I couldn’t believe how many expats and tourists had come in for the festival, and was no little offended by being taken for a regular tourist by the Malians. Just saying.

During the day at the Festival there were the usual cultural events meant to display Mali’s wide-ranging ethnic heritage, along with an arts and crafts fair where people could buy items from far and wide. AT night there were the performances. It was actually well-done: the organizers had set up a floating stage on the river, and the audience could sit on the benches and the banks to watch the show (or stand in the shallow water). I saw several singing greats, both domestic and international. Habib Koite was there, as well as the known Salif Keita, among other Malian favorites. To be honest, I was a little disappointed with the big headliners, i.e. Salif and Habib. Their performances were more low-key than expected; I didn’t really feel the talent that they are usually known for. But there were other Malian performances that were surprisingly impressive, so in a way it made up for the disappointments. Overall, it being their 6th year that they have organized this festival, it is well done and gets some great artists to come perform.

In other news, many of you know that my parents will soon be arriving to see Mali for themselves, so I will be sure to make them write something on their impressions of this place. I feel that after a year and half I am a little jaded, and things have stopped failing to surprise me, but perhaps with two pairs of fresh eyes they’ll have something new and interesting to tell. I’ve also included pictures of the music festival in my picture gallery, so you can get a better idea of what the hell I’m talking about. Because a picture really is worth a thousand words, or maybe two thousand of mine.

Back once again

So here I am, safe and sound back in Kita, Mali. It was really nice to be able to come home for Christmas and see people, eat good food, and catch up with family and friends. I realized how much I missed hot showers and fast, accessible internet, really delicious food and good alcohol. I remembered what was so great about Mexico and the US, and why I want to come back soon. There wasn’t as much culture shock as I thought I might have, coming from being here and going straight back into American culture. It all felt very natural to me, almost like I hadn’t been gone that long, although I admit being overwhelmed at times with everyone owning a fancy phone.

Being back in Mali already, it seems like time has gone by very quickly. I think everyone in my group is a little taken aback at how far into our service we are, and how little time we have left. Everyone is starting to talk about closing projects, taking last vacations and plans for afterwards. I know I’m looking forward to finishing up my time here and moving on to the next stage of my life.

Turkey & Goat Feasting

Instead of my writing something about my celebrating two holidays this past week, I thought I'd share with you this article about Thanksgiving and Tabaski instead. Interesting how two different holidays can mean kinda the same thing.


Tabaski, Thanksgiving: Back to Back

Wednesday 25 November 2009

by Joseph Hellweg, for the other afrik

On-line source: http://en.afrik.com/article16535.html

The moon and sun align this year to bring two holidays together: the Muslim feast of Tabaski (also called Eid al-Adha and Aïd el-Kebir) and the United States holiday of Thanksgiving. They occur on November 26 and 28, respectively. Although Tabaski is explicitly religious, and Thanksgiving ostensibly secular, both re-enforce ties to one’s family and larger communities. Both focus on animals.

Those buying sheep right now may have to pay a hundred U.S. dollars [50.000 francs CFA] or more for one in the final days before the feast on Saturday. If one lacks the means, a goat will do. Wealthy benefactors even sacrifice cattle.

In the U.S., a frozen turkey from the grocery store is the main Thanksgiving course and less expensive than a ram. But Americans still make a fuss about buying it. They follow sales and compare prices and the quality of different brands. They may order it weeks or months in advance for fear of waiting too long and going without. Type just two words into any online search engine—Thanksgiving turkey—and you can gauge the extent of the obsession. You will find endless advice about how to choose, thaw, clean, bake, spice, serve, and eat a turkey. You can even order it online with overnight shipping. Frozen turkeys can’t walk, but they appear to be able to fly.

And they are easier to take home than sheep. You may have to make extra space in your freezer, but a turkey will fit. You don’t have to feed it. It doesn’t make a mess. It’s already cleaned. And unless you plan to deep-fry it outside—a specialty of the U.S. south—the trick is to keep the meat moist while it cooks in the oven. Despite all this attention lavished on an edible carcass, a family has little personal relationship with its turkey. It is meat from start to finish.

In Africa, things are different. A family lives with its meal before eating it. Last year in Kankan, Guinea, I saw rams tethered outside of every compound I visited in the days before Tabaski. Children and adults may name the sheep and play with it. They feed it and may grow fond of it, especially when purchased well in advance. Then the pet for a day becomes the plat du jour.

Processing the sheep is as much a family affair as taking care of it. When I was with Malian friends in Yamoussoukro, Côte d’Ivoire, in the 1990s, men killed the sheep, children cleaned the entrails, and women cooked the meat. In a way, the sheep is like family and, as such, the whole family prepares it.

But the goal of each feast is still the same: to share meat with relatives and friends, some of whom travel far to eat it. Last year in Kankan, I met Guineans who had returned home from Conakry, Europe, and the U.S. for the meal. Imagine my surprise when a man in sunglasses walked up to me and told me in fluent English that he had just arrived from Washington, D.C.

Thanksgiving in the U.S. is no different. It is the busiest travel day of the year. Airports are jammed, and flights run late, making national news every year.

The feasts are variations of each other. On Tabaski, families distribute meat to their neighbors. This happens at Thanksgiving, too. Families invite neighbors to dinner or send turkey, sweet potatoes, and gravy to those they know who will be spending Thanksgiving alone or in nursing homes. And soup kitchens offer free turkey and mashed potatoes to the poor and homeless.

In other ways, Tabaski is incomparable. It has no equivalent in Judaism or Christianity. Like Christmas and Hanukkah, Tabaski evokes a spirit of giving. It commemorates Abraham’s sacrifice of a ram instead of his son, Ishmael. But like Easter and Yom Kippur, it is the holiest of holy days.

It is also like New Year’s Day and Rosh Hashanah, even though it is not the Muslim New Year. In Bambara, the blessings one uses as greetings on Tabaski make the case: “Ala ka san kura d’i ma,” ‘May God grant you a new year’, or “Ala k’i san hèrè chaya,” ‘May God give you peace in the year to come’. West Africans offer similar blessings in French, sometimes cutting to the chase with the expression, “Tous les tés,” which sounds to an English-speaker like, “two lay TAY,” an abbreviation for a range of blessings, all of which end in the French sound “tay”: bonté (plenty), prospérité (prosperity), santé (health).

Tabaski resets the ritual clock, whether in Bambara or French.

Both Tabaski and Thanksgiving recreate the world. Each marks a turn in the year—the start of the dry season and the beginning of Christmas shopping, respectively—and the hope that those who celebrate will endure these trials.

The day after Thanksgiving—always a Friday—is one of the year’s busiest shopping days in the U.S. How well sales do on that day is seen as an augur for the country’s economic welfare, a sign of how well Christmas sales and, as a result, the national economy will do in the coming year. Thanksgiving is the ritual sacrifice that precedes the divination of the kingdom’s future. I mean, post-Thanksgiving sales are key indicators in the nation’s economic forecast. When sales looks bleak, priests blame the failing ritual power of the sacred king. In other words, leading economic experts criticize the president’s fiscal policy . . .

Ironically, it is this commercial side of secular Thanksgiving that most closely resembles the religious side of Tabaski. Thanksgiving marks the opening of a month-long ritual of buying and spending that culminates in Christmas, the most elaborate American sacrifice in which gifts are given shortly before the New Year to assure that it will be safe and prosperous, Christian beliefs aside.

Similarly, Tabaski brings to a close a period of two lunar months in Islam that include Ramadan and the most intense season of pilgrimages to Mecca.

Just as Tabaski takes Muslims back to the first ritual expression of obedience to Allah, Thanksgiving takes Americans back to the first prayerful consecration of a sustained Anglo-Saxon presence in North America. Taking part in the harvest meal that contributed in some way to the eventual establishment of the United States is like taking part in the meal that spared Ishmael’s life. Both feasts renew their respective worlds through ritual participation: the Muslim community through Tabaski, and the United States via Thanksgiving.

Here we see the richness of these holidays as well as their limits. In the United States, the Christian, Anglo-Saxon origin story of Thanksgiving now bolsters a suspicion among some Americans of both Muslims and immigrants of color, just as claims of religious absolutism grounded in God’s revelation to Abraham justify hostility among some Muslims against secularism.

Religious or not, holidays are rituals. They operate beyond strict divisions between sacred and profane; they bridge the two. This year, occurring in such close proximity, they might raise a common prayer for a better welcome to Islam and immigrants in the U.S. and for increased dialogue between secularists and Islamists across the world.

But in the end, holidays are mostly about the small ways in which people connect through sharing. This Thursday, a Muslim friend of mine from Mali, Diadié Bathily, plans to attend my family’s Thanksgiving dinner in St. Louis, Missouri. My Catholic mother will help him celebrate Tabaski far from home (two days early) by making him mutton in addition to turkey. Knowing Diadié, he will eat both. Shouldn’t we all?

Joseph Hellweg is Asst. Prof. of Religion at Florida State Univeristy. He received his Ph.D. in anthropology from the University of Virginia and was a postdoctoral fellow at the Center for Interdisciplinary Research on AIDS at Yale. He has done research with initiated hunters (dozos) and on HIV and AIDS in Côte d’Ivoire from 1993-1997 and in 2002. In 2008-2009, he was a Fulbright Fellow at the University of Kankan, Guinea, where he taught social science research methods. He will complete his fellowship at the University of Bamako. He speaks French and Mandenkan and eats fonio with okra sauce whenever possible.

The views expressed here are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent or reflect the views of Afrik.com.

Thank you for all your help!!

What a nice birthday surprise it was come into town this week and find out my project has been completely funded. Thank you everyone for all your contributions!! I will keep this updated on how the project continues; currently, the community is still working on their share of the fund-raising, but I hope that in the next few months we will have finished everything. Thank you again, from myself and from everyone in my village!