The past few weeks have been super crazy. Upon my return from regional IST in Segou I barely made it back to site in time for Easter. I was able however to return to the little village who doctored up my bike on my day of Murphy’s Law and pay Solomon Coulibaly the 250 cfa (approximately 50 cents).
Easter was celebrated much like any other event in my village, dancing and eating. We killed a couple of pigs (huge because in a Muslim country you don’t eat pork…fortunately, Christians do!) and danced all night before Easter and then again all night Monday. The actual festivities on Easter consisted on a Sunday morning service immediately followed by singing and dancing (all the village married men, all the older women, all the married women, all the young adults and all the kids danced in respective order). I made a dress of Malian fabric and delighted my village with my new outfit…normally I wear exclusively American clothes which still confuses some people to see a women in pants but I like to push the boundaries a bit.
The heat is something I continue to write about not to bore you, but because it’s hard not to live in Mali without mentioning the heat. It’s getting to such a degree where it barely cools off into the 90’s at night thus you never really get the chance to stop sweating even sleeping outside. Heat rash has taken over my body but unfortunately there’s not too much you can do to stop/prevent it when you live in this environment (unless perhaps I install AC in my hut???). Suggestions from fellow volunteers include taking my bucket bath with my clothes on so they can cool me off as they’re drying…I dried out in about 20 minutes then started sweating again. Others sleep on their roofs to try to get more wind flow but have to wake up by 5 when the sun rises and other keep buckets of water next to them so when they wake up (most can sleep for 15-30 minute intervals) douse themselves the fall asleep again for a bit.
By some divine reason I truly can’t explain I decided to call my mom the Wednesday after Easter…highly unusual for me to call let alone so shortly after I talked to her on Easter because it’s extremely expensive but for whatever reason I called and found that my grandma had passed away just hours before. I have never been one to cope well with death and found that I was grateful to have a bit to time to myself in my hut, not only to cry but to reminisce. I also became increasingly grateful for my dad’s foresight to take me to Lawrenceville last June where I had a chance to find some closure in saying, as it goes, my final goodbye. I was able to hug and kiss the Grandma whom I remember from my childhood and that memory has proven to be a huge comfort and eased the pain of my mourning. Having a good friend to support me also eased the pain of loss of my grandma and I can’t be more grateful for what he did for me.
I’ve been busy at site taking Food Security Survey’s. Food Security is severely under addressed in most developing countries and as a result countries like Niger are facing massive famines and unimaginable deaths from starvation. I interviewed 10 farmers in my village about the kinds of grains they grow, income generating activities, garden products, how to deal with running out of food, etc. I was struck by a couple of the questions and results. (1) when asked how many kids are in the family there is always a minimum age of 5 before the children are actually taken into account by the government because the chance of death before 5 is so high. (2) Every single farmer I interviewed ran out of food as early as August and definitely by September…I knew hungry season was a problem, but its extent still continues to impress upon me how dire the situation is. (3) Every single farmer I interviewed admitted they were regularly worried their children did not get enough food and often they would eat only once a day in attempt to prolong the duration of their food. (4) Each farmer had a least one of their children die in their life. (My homologue for example is relatively well off and still, two of his children died from malnutrition and disease). Last year was a terrible harvest and I fear that hungry season will be particularly cruel this year in Mali.
On a happier note, I took a mini vacation up to Sevare then onto a village about 5 hours north called Hombori. Mt Hombori is the highest point in Mali and my friend Justin and I climbed it…sort of. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done but really exciting and so rewarding. When we neared the summit and could look out over what felt like all of Mali the view was intoxicating. Carefully looking in the distance you could see the sand dunes of the Sahara just before the horizon. Fortunately Justin grew up with mountains and was able to navigate the cliffs but talk about an adrenaline rush! Going down the mountain was essentially me scooting down the mountain on my butt…but we made it in one piece with only a few bumps and bruises…and a lot of sore muscles.
Getting back to the “hotel” we took delightfully cold showers and continued to hydrate (we each drank about 7 liters of water on the hike and were still so thirsty when we reached town). We didn’t rest long however as we decided to go see the elephants before they crossed over to Burkina Faso. We hired a guide and driver and set off into the African wilderness. We drove about two hours deep into the heart of Mali until we came upon one of the last watering holes that still had water. We didn’t have to wait long before we saw three gorgeous elephants drinking and bathing at the hole; a female, yearling and the Chief male. At one point the male was probably 30 yards from us. I’ve seen an elephant in zoos before but to be out in the wild with nothing between you and this beast of an animal was extremely exciting and awe inspiring. These animals are totally free, roaming as they please without any fences to confine them. After about 30 minutes of admiring the elephants at the hole we headed out into the brush and saw a dozen more eating and foraging. Beautiful is too cliché a word but it’s impossible to articulate what exactly I felt. All I know is that in less than 24 hours I was humbled twice with just how small I am and how huge this world is.
I’ll wrap it up now because I’ve written too much already. I’ll be at site for about 10 days then I’m headed to Bamako for Derby Day and then back to San to celebrate my birthday with some friends so look forward to more updates in two weeks!
Love,
Cait
