So, as a request from my mom I’m writing about my worst day in Africa…which I have to admit is kind of funny now that I can look back on it.
March 27, 2010. The wind when biking to San from my village is extremely strong, thus, I decided to leave my house at 6am to ideally get to San before 8am and meet my friend Holly on the way (her village is about 45 minutes from me). So I get up early and bike to the road and start biking to meet Holly when I feel my bike kind of deflate. I look back and my back tire is totally flat. I get my phone out to call Holly to tell her I will be late and guess what, my phone is dead (I was expecting a call the night before so I fell asleep with my phone on which effectively killed the battery). I had just enough to call Holly to tell her to go on without me and then it died for good. I walked to a neighboring village and they pumped up my tire. I hopped back on and continued along my merry way for about 20 minutes before the tire was totally deflated again. I wasn’t particularly close to a village so I was going to try to catch a ride with a passing truck/car so I took a seat on the side of the road under a tree (aka: bush) for as much shade as possible. 1 hour passes and no cars pass only moto’s. Finally, I get frustrated and start walking. Unfortunately I decided to wear my Teva sandals (endurance/trekking sandals) because I wanted to break them in before rainy season when blisters never heal and are easily infected. I hadn’t been walking more than 10 minutes before my feet were massacred with blisters. After about 8 kilometers (still no passing trucks or cars) a man on a moto finally helps me find a village where I can get my bike fixed. While on the mission to find a local village I get the chance to chat with the man who was extremely helpful and friendly…much needed after such a long morning. We find a village a few kilometers off the road and the people were extremely helpful and repaired my broken bike. I go to grab my money and realize I’ve left it at home because I brought my backpack to go to Segou instead of my purse (which ironically also had my bike repair kit in it). I apologize profusely and promise to return the following Saturday on my return from Segou IST and feel absolutely terrible. I finally get back to the road and start biking. It’s now about 10:30 and the wind is fierce. I stopped to take a drink and found that I had only one sip left because over the course of the morning I drank most all the water (usually I never have to stop to drink when I leave at 6am because it’s cool enough). I start biking again and am about 10 kilometers outside of San. I vividly recall looking to my right and seeing a tree, peddle several times, looking to my right and seeing the same tree…it hadn’t moved. I was exhausted and thirsty and it was hot and this stupid tree wasn’t moving. I started to cry. You do NOT cry in front of Malians, it is a huge faux pas. Thus I pulled off again and sat on the side of the rode in attempt to compose myself. After a few minutes I get on my bike yet again and am on my way. I’m totally parched at this point and quite literally can’t talk. When I passed some kids they naturally greeted me enthusiastically and I go to greet them in return and find that I have no voice. Perhaps the most insulting thing you can do in Mali is not return a greeting. As I passed unable to greet I heard them say approximately “the white person didn’t greet let’s get her!!!!” and so the take off running after me. Totally exhausted and against the wind I had no energy left so they caught up pretty easily and started throwing things at me (I know at least one rock because it hit me in the back and did not feel good). Any other day I could have retaliated but this day from Hell I was almost expecting it. They stopped after a few seconds and I was able to finish the last 3 kilometers to San in relative peace. The wind creates a bit of dust and my tear stained face was a dust magnet so by the time I arrived at our house in San at 11:45 (almost 6 hours later on a 2 hour trip) I looked just about as bad as I felt. I ran into the house and broke into tears again this time in the presence of other Peace Corps members who were able to help hydrate and comfort me. After a cold shower and some alone time to recover I was able to return to the outside world.
So, after Africa broke me, I realized some things:
I am incredibly lucky to have extremely supportive friends in San. I can honestly say that I am genuinely happy to see any of the 7 other volunteers in the San area which is very challenging to achieve when 8 strangers are thrown together in extreme conditions. I will never again ride my bike without my phone, money, air pump, repair kit, hand fan, extra water…haha. Mali won this day, but I’m definitely winning overall. Brownies are a great remedy to a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. You can make a new friend in the most unlikely of places. The generosity of strangers reminds us of the best parts of life, especially when we feel like it’s one of the worst parts of ours. I am one lucky girl.
