March is absolutely flying by and I can’t believe it’s almost April. I have a regional IST for a few days in Segou from the 28-3 then I’m heading back to site for Easter. I celebrated St Patrick’s Day in San with a bunch of friends where we started a new tradition with a new name, dubbed San Patrick’s Day. It was a great success and there were about 20 people here. We killed a pig and had the butcher cook it then we made yummy BBQ sauce and Cole slaw and salad…No green beer but we all rocked out green clothes. Hosting an event can be exhausting and I apologize for not getting an update out around the 17th but I knew I’d be back soon so I hope this will suffice.
As painful as hot season is, it’s more the dust storms that’s really getting to me. Sometimes when I’m walking through village and I see a tornado of dust come barreling towards me and I just put my head down in a fairly futile attempt to inhale as little dust as possible. Regardless, when I return home I have to brush my teeth to get the grime out of my mouth and shake out my clothes after my bucket bath. While my village is very dry, I have an all new respect for northern Mali and any dessert residents…it can be downright difficult to breathe in this environment. One of my friends from up north has been forced to wear his turban all day just to breathe.
My bike ride in today was anything but pleasant but I won’t bore you with the details, except that I left my house at 6am and arrived in San (should be 1:45 minutes later) at 11:15am…
On the other hand, I’ve had a great week at site. There was a wedding I returned just in time for from San Patrick’s Day. It was someone somehow related to my host family (the groom that is to say) and for days in advance extended family was arriving from Bamako. I’m not sure exactly how many sheep and goats and cows were killed for the festivities but needless to say I ate really well for a few days. The evening before the wedding there was a sort of rehearsal dinner were essentially everyone gathered at the host house and ate and danced till late into the night. In the morning it was super busy. The bride and groom went to mayors office to sign the marriage papers and all the men and women were eating and drinking tea all dressed in their best at the host families house. I found out the families tended to wear the same fabrics. For example, all the “bridal party” was in one of two fabric designs. All the Bamako women on the grooms side were in a fabric and another fabric for the Sebanso women on grooms side, etc. It was fascinating to watch. This was my first Christian wedding and I can’t get over some of the similarities. The bride wore a beautiful white dress and the groom a nice suit. There was a maid of honor and a best man that sat with the bride and groom for the THREE hour service. That was a little excessive and I have to admit that I fell asleep more than once. The singing was incredible though. Three choirs came (two in addition to Sebanso’s) and you couldn’t help but get totally caught up in their music. Several ministers led worship and there were some friends who did readings, there were vows made and I do’s said and rings exchanged. It was truly bizarre. Afterwords there was of course dancing and eating for the rest of the day and again late into the night.
One of my favorite moments since I last wrote actually took place during the socials at night. A lot of the young men and women my age all returned for the wedding and I was able to chat with them increasingly more. People who used to speak and I would stare at dumbly I could now have a semi intelligent conversation with. It was incredibly exciting and when I went to market on Thursday I had a similar experience. I was sitting with my friend Enice who was making and selling little cakes and I was playing with her son Kardi (almost a year old and so darn cute…I ‘ve sent pictures of him before). We were chatting and of course when people walk by and see a white person speaking Bambara they freak out and come joke with me. I’m definitely getting better at my communication (though I have so much to still learn) and it was the first time I really understood just how far I’ve come in the past nine months. I know have a new appreciation for why Peace Corps is a 27 month service…your first year is simply trying to survive. On the other hand, I had my first run in with a really mad Malian at market and I definitely could not keep up with his angry words (I have a feeling Peace Corps didn’t teach the kind of language he was using). From what I could gather it was a dispute about the price of something but these two guys decided to duke it out while we were biking home…My homologue's friend with whom I always ride to and from market with was the so called third party used to keep disputes under control and thus I spent much of the ride stopping and going trying to keep up yet not get caught in the middle of weaving bikes and angry fists. It was a bit of an adrenaline rush and made the 45 minute trip home fly by.
I’ll be leaving in the morning for Segou for a regional In Service Training with all the volunteers in the Segou region and I’ll return next Saturday and try to get another email out for the Easter holiday! March has been a whirlwind and I apologize that I couldn’t get to San more often. I’ll be in San briefly mid April before heading up north for a few days and I’ll be leaving for Bamako on the 30th of April for a Kentucky Derby party at the pool in Bamako. In the middle of hot season, I can think of nothing better (though there’s not really much worse than the transport to get down there…oh well).
Love,
Cait
March 8, 2010
Hope all is well and everyone is enjoying March and the welcome break of spring. I am currently adjusting to the heat of hot season and I have to admit, it’s really hot. It’s only reached 108 degrees thus far, but apparently in April and May it can reach almost 130 degrees…sometimes I wonder if people were actually meant to live on this land, or any extreme climate like this. At least I’ve been here long enough now that my body has started to acclimate and the 90’s are actually the equivalent of a perfectly lovely day.
I’m mildly embarrassed to confess that I didn’t really need to come into san today, but I have quite literally been dreaming about a cold sprite at night and thus made the trip to San. Most of the time I can deal with drinking what I can most accurately describe as bath temperature water, but at a certain point in time, it just doesn’t cut it. Plus, my good luck finally ran out and I’m sick…you don’t want to know the details but I figured I wanted access to both cold water and a real toilet over the next few days.
Site has gone well since I last wrote; Senegal was a delightful break from the day to day grind. I’ve been attending the secondary school several times over the past two weeks and working with the female English teacher. It’s pretty much unheard of for a woman to teach English in such a small bruce community and she has thus far served as a valuable resource to me. She is helping me plan a monthly workshop for the 8th grade girls about some life skills…relationships, decision making, peer pressure, fighting with friends, etc. As frustrating as it is, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that as much as I work with the older generation, they are “stuck in their ways” so to speak and the only way to make significant behavior change is to work with the younger kids and hope it carries through to the next generation.
I’ve had my first run in of the season with a scorpion and I’m sad to say that this most certainly will not be the last. Apparently during hot season they are absolutely everywhere. This scorpion was huge but they say that that’s good because it’s the little ones that can kill you…oh joy. On the bright side, I have yet to deal with rats and mice thanks in large part to the local cats and my homologues dog, whom I’ve named Duke.
I’ve now been here long enough that when I greet people in village I can’t really ask names anymore because I should know them, but learning a few hundred names is hard for anyone let alone when their names are impossible for me to pronounce in the first place. Fortunately, it’s a compliment to call people by their last names and nearly everyone in my village is a Coulibaly, so I get by most of the time calling people Coulibaly. Even if it’s not their last name, the Malians just laugh because a huge part of Malian culture is joking cousins. Mali is full of ethnicities and minority tribes so Joking cousins are used as a kind of tension breaker. Coulibalys are known to be bean eaters thus calling someone a Coulibaly who isn’t insinuates that they stink because they eat beans all the time. Other joking cousins involve calling someone a donkey, a blacksmith, a younger sibling (age is a huge status symbol here), your slave, etc. There are quite literally about 20 last names in Mali and certain last names joke with others, except for Coulibalys who can generally joke with everyone. A typical greeting in my market village goes something like this
I ni ce (hey)
Nsay (doesn’t translate but can kind be the answer to anything…men say “nbah”)
I ni sogoma (good morning)
Nsay I ni sogoma (good morning)
I ka kene (how are you)
Torotay (great)
Somogow be di (how is your family)
Bashi te (no problems)
Somogow dun (and your family…yes, you must ask about the family twice…I don’t know why)
Toro tu la (they are great)
I Coulibaly (you Coulibaly)
Nsay (you bet)
Hahhahaha, I be sho dun, hahaha (hahahaha, you bean eater, hahaha)
Hahaha, I ye Fali ye (hahaha, you donkey)
Then repeat asking the questions…this is an extremely simplified version of a greeting; I’ve often greeted someone for at least 5 minutes because there were countless benedictions and blessings to accompany the standard greeting.
I hope you all are all doing well; I’m sad to say that I’m suffering another bought of illness though I’m waiting for my medicine to arrive from Bamako and am anxious to start feeling better. I miss you and think of you often, especially when I’m sick and I long to be home the most. Your thoughts and well wishes help get me through these harder days and I can’t thank you enough.
Love,
Cait
I’m mildly embarrassed to confess that I didn’t really need to come into san today, but I have quite literally been dreaming about a cold sprite at night and thus made the trip to San. Most of the time I can deal with drinking what I can most accurately describe as bath temperature water, but at a certain point in time, it just doesn’t cut it. Plus, my good luck finally ran out and I’m sick…you don’t want to know the details but I figured I wanted access to both cold water and a real toilet over the next few days.
Site has gone well since I last wrote; Senegal was a delightful break from the day to day grind. I’ve been attending the secondary school several times over the past two weeks and working with the female English teacher. It’s pretty much unheard of for a woman to teach English in such a small bruce community and she has thus far served as a valuable resource to me. She is helping me plan a monthly workshop for the 8th grade girls about some life skills…relationships, decision making, peer pressure, fighting with friends, etc. As frustrating as it is, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that as much as I work with the older generation, they are “stuck in their ways” so to speak and the only way to make significant behavior change is to work with the younger kids and hope it carries through to the next generation.
I’ve had my first run in of the season with a scorpion and I’m sad to say that this most certainly will not be the last. Apparently during hot season they are absolutely everywhere. This scorpion was huge but they say that that’s good because it’s the little ones that can kill you…oh joy. On the bright side, I have yet to deal with rats and mice thanks in large part to the local cats and my homologues dog, whom I’ve named Duke.
I’ve now been here long enough that when I greet people in village I can’t really ask names anymore because I should know them, but learning a few hundred names is hard for anyone let alone when their names are impossible for me to pronounce in the first place. Fortunately, it’s a compliment to call people by their last names and nearly everyone in my village is a Coulibaly, so I get by most of the time calling people Coulibaly. Even if it’s not their last name, the Malians just laugh because a huge part of Malian culture is joking cousins. Mali is full of ethnicities and minority tribes so Joking cousins are used as a kind of tension breaker. Coulibalys are known to be bean eaters thus calling someone a Coulibaly who isn’t insinuates that they stink because they eat beans all the time. Other joking cousins involve calling someone a donkey, a blacksmith, a younger sibling (age is a huge status symbol here), your slave, etc. There are quite literally about 20 last names in Mali and certain last names joke with others, except for Coulibalys who can generally joke with everyone. A typical greeting in my market village goes something like this
I ni ce (hey)
Nsay (doesn’t translate but can kind be the answer to anything…men say “nbah”)
I ni sogoma (good morning)
Nsay I ni sogoma (good morning)
I ka kene (how are you)
Torotay (great)
Somogow be di (how is your family)
Bashi te (no problems)
Somogow dun (and your family…yes, you must ask about the family twice…I don’t know why)
Toro tu la (they are great)
I Coulibaly (you Coulibaly)
Nsay (you bet)
Hahhahaha, I be sho dun, hahaha (hahahaha, you bean eater, hahaha)
Hahaha, I ye Fali ye (hahaha, you donkey)
Then repeat asking the questions…this is an extremely simplified version of a greeting; I’ve often greeted someone for at least 5 minutes because there were countless benedictions and blessings to accompany the standard greeting.
I hope you all are all doing well; I’m sad to say that I’m suffering another bought of illness though I’m waiting for my medicine to arrive from Bamako and am anxious to start feeling better. I miss you and think of you often, especially when I’m sick and I long to be home the most. Your thoughts and well wishes help get me through these harder days and I can’t thank you enough.
Love,
Cait
Feburary 23, 2010
I just got back from Senegal and spent a few days in Bamako before returning to San. I hope to get back to site this afternoon. Cold season was all too brief however and the days are already becoming incredibly hot so we’ll see what this afternoon brings.
Dakar was unlike anything I have seen in Africa thus far. The vast majority of the time I thought I was in Western Europe. There are developed roads with street signs that people actually follow, all the stores have windows and air conditioning and there are credit card machines and ATMs everywhere. It was the most bizarre feeling and I have to admit I’m glad Bamako is not Dakar because I would be hard pressed to leave.
WAIST overall was really fun. We had three softball teams and none of them made it to the finals but it was fun none the less. It was actually kind of eye opening seeing volunteers from other countries. I know I’m a little prejudiced because I am a Mali volunteer, but the first time I saw the Gambia volunteers I was struck by how healthy their team looked. Our guys can’t stop losing weight, but I swear some of those guys almost had guts on them…no wonder we couldn’t win a game. This is totally me trying to justify our terrible softball skills but it still makes me feel a little better. Speaking of food, I’m pretty sure I put on a few pounds over the past two weeks. I ate well in Dakar. There was ice cream.
The more time I spend in Mali and having the chance to travel a little outside of Mali to other developing countries I’ve started to find some untraditional poverty indicators. There is the obvious infant mortality rates literacy rates used to measure poverty but I’ve come to find some other measures. For example, you don’t see many joggers in Bamako but there were men and women constantly running near the beach (of course if Mali was as cool and breezy as Dakar we might have more runners too). Another was the moto-car ratio. In Mali only the most wealthy drive motos thus they are the main means of transport you see by Malians other than bikes and donkey carts. In Dakar I rarely saw motos because everyone was driving cars.
The American club in Dakar, which is where the softball tournament took place, was beautiful with a huge pool and yummy delicious food. Needless to say my days were not spent sightseeing but relaxing by the pool with grilled cheese in hand…Cheese, it’s been 8 months since I have had cheese!! Part of me regretted not seeing much of Dakar but I’ve come to really value what a difference knowing a local language makes in getting around a foreign town. I hate getting ripped off and hassled thus I much preferred hanging out with friends by the pool. I did hike up to the light house and had an incredible view of the city and coast which I’ll send pictures of soon.
The bus ride to and from Senegal was exhausting. Spending 30 hours on a bus with no AC and very little leg room probably gives the impression that it was a miserable trip, and I assure you, it was. Fortunately I have medicine for motion sickness that has the lovely side effect of knocking me out. Thus I would wake up at the check points and show my passport, wipe the sweat from my face and fall asleep again. All in all, not a bad trip.
I came back to Bamako on the night of the 17th and spent a few days in Bamako. The Peace Corps bureau moved over the weekend so I went to visit the new bureau which was gorgeous and so nice and clean! We have a stage house in Bamako that I stayed in while in town. I came back to San on the 20th with my friend Justin who stayed until this morning when he left for home in Mopti. It’s been relatively uneventful so I’ve been enjoying the break and soaking up the luxury of San for the day. I am however, sad to say that hot season is arriving with vengeance and it’s a pretty formidable forerunner of what’s to come. I’ll keep you updated.
I’ll probably be at site for the next two or three weeks but I’ll try to write again when I come into San for St. Patrick's Day. A bunch of people are coming into san which will be nice. I like the people in my stage a lot but only in small doses and while I was ready to leave Dakar, it will be nice to see some of them again in a few weeks. I hope you all are doing well and can’t wait to hear from you all soon.
Love,
Cait
Dakar was unlike anything I have seen in Africa thus far. The vast majority of the time I thought I was in Western Europe. There are developed roads with street signs that people actually follow, all the stores have windows and air conditioning and there are credit card machines and ATMs everywhere. It was the most bizarre feeling and I have to admit I’m glad Bamako is not Dakar because I would be hard pressed to leave.
WAIST overall was really fun. We had three softball teams and none of them made it to the finals but it was fun none the less. It was actually kind of eye opening seeing volunteers from other countries. I know I’m a little prejudiced because I am a Mali volunteer, but the first time I saw the Gambia volunteers I was struck by how healthy their team looked. Our guys can’t stop losing weight, but I swear some of those guys almost had guts on them…no wonder we couldn’t win a game. This is totally me trying to justify our terrible softball skills but it still makes me feel a little better. Speaking of food, I’m pretty sure I put on a few pounds over the past two weeks. I ate well in Dakar. There was ice cream.
The more time I spend in Mali and having the chance to travel a little outside of Mali to other developing countries I’ve started to find some untraditional poverty indicators. There is the obvious infant mortality rates literacy rates used to measure poverty but I’ve come to find some other measures. For example, you don’t see many joggers in Bamako but there were men and women constantly running near the beach (of course if Mali was as cool and breezy as Dakar we might have more runners too). Another was the moto-car ratio. In Mali only the most wealthy drive motos thus they are the main means of transport you see by Malians other than bikes and donkey carts. In Dakar I rarely saw motos because everyone was driving cars.
The American club in Dakar, which is where the softball tournament took place, was beautiful with a huge pool and yummy delicious food. Needless to say my days were not spent sightseeing but relaxing by the pool with grilled cheese in hand…Cheese, it’s been 8 months since I have had cheese!! Part of me regretted not seeing much of Dakar but I’ve come to really value what a difference knowing a local language makes in getting around a foreign town. I hate getting ripped off and hassled thus I much preferred hanging out with friends by the pool. I did hike up to the light house and had an incredible view of the city and coast which I’ll send pictures of soon.
The bus ride to and from Senegal was exhausting. Spending 30 hours on a bus with no AC and very little leg room probably gives the impression that it was a miserable trip, and I assure you, it was. Fortunately I have medicine for motion sickness that has the lovely side effect of knocking me out. Thus I would wake up at the check points and show my passport, wipe the sweat from my face and fall asleep again. All in all, not a bad trip.
I came back to Bamako on the night of the 17th and spent a few days in Bamako. The Peace Corps bureau moved over the weekend so I went to visit the new bureau which was gorgeous and so nice and clean! We have a stage house in Bamako that I stayed in while in town. I came back to San on the 20th with my friend Justin who stayed until this morning when he left for home in Mopti. It’s been relatively uneventful so I’ve been enjoying the break and soaking up the luxury of San for the day. I am however, sad to say that hot season is arriving with vengeance and it’s a pretty formidable forerunner of what’s to come. I’ll keep you updated.
I’ll probably be at site for the next two or three weeks but I’ll try to write again when I come into San for St. Patrick's Day. A bunch of people are coming into san which will be nice. I like the people in my stage a lot but only in small doses and while I was ready to leave Dakar, it will be nice to see some of them again in a few weeks. I hope you all are doing well and can’t wait to hear from you all soon.
Love,
Cait
January 31, 2010
I’ve come to San for just two days to say good bye to one of the volunteers whose COS (close of service) date has finally arrived after 3 ½ years of service in Mali. I’ll be back again for a night before leaving for Bamako on the ninth but not sure if I’ll get a letter out before I leave for Senegal.
My plan was to come in on Saturday, but I was roused early to find that my host family grandmother had passed away early that morning. I was surprised by the way Malians approach death. It was much more a celebration of her life than it was mourning her death. The women spent the morning preparing food for my host family as hundreds of people came to great the family throughout the morning. I sat for a few minutes with the women who sit inside the house with the body and sprayed the body with perfume before I left. The rest of the morning things continued as normal doing chores about the house that I thought that might be all. Around 4pm my homologue came to get me and we went to the common area where the service was held. The body was laying in the center of a wide circle of people and there were people singing and drumming for a while before the Pasteur performed a memorial service. All the while, women came to perfume the body as several men led prayers and hymns. When the service was over the attendants (I’m guessing about 700 men women and children) rushed out to the fields were the burial would take place. The hole was already dug by the men of the family and they climbed into the hole and were handed the body which they proceeded to use mud bricks and mud to seal the grave. A prayer was said then all the men of the village took turns shoveling dirt into the grave. Tree limbs and more mud bricks were the final step to keep animals from digging at the grave. we all went back to my host families house where we danced and sang and played the drums for a few minutes. People then went home and ate dinner until about 9pm when the music started again and people met at the common area for dancing that lasted quite literally until Sunday morning at around 6am. Before leaving Sunday morning, I went to great my host dad and still hundreds of women were gathered eating breakfast with the family. In all of this I never saw any tears shed, only smiles and celebrations. My homologue told me that her death was an opportunity to bring the community together to celebrate her life and that there is no reason to mourn when we will all die one day. Blunt, but a lovely way to approach death.
In other news, my homologues nephew planted some flowers in my garden...which is very hard to keep alive in Africa. Baba, one of the other boys told me that Seni just planted the flowers so he could spend more time with me because he has a crush on me, haha. My afternoons are still spent watering the garden and my arms are becoming quite toned due to the work. I’ve also enjoyed helping cook with some of the women in the mornings and am mortified that I ate Toh voluntarily for the first time upon coming to Africa and found it good. Wouldn’t want to eat it every day, but considering a few months ago I quite literally gagged myself when eating it, this is absolutely unprecedented. I’ve bonded with the family dog which I’m constantly being made fun of for. But I started to regret this development when he came prancing into my concession holding the bloody neck and head of a baby lamb and proceeded to eat it in my yard. Talk about reminders of my new life in Africa. I managed to give myself a fat lip when I went to get my water from the pump. I was tying the 20 liter water container to my bike rack with the rubber tie like always when the tie snapped and smacked me in the face. With half a dozen kids gasping at my rapidly swelling and bleeding lip I had to finish tying the container and rode home with very little dignity left. My Peace Corps doctor came to my site for site visit just to make sure everything was up to par and she gave me a flu shot. I have a love hate relationship with my doctor. She acts quickly to get us healthy but I’ve yet to see her without getting a shot. In the past year since I found out I was nominated for a position, I‘ve lost track but can only assume I’m well over 25 shots I’ve had to get, plus having to take malaria medicine every week for the next 2-3 years.
Love,
Cait
My plan was to come in on Saturday, but I was roused early to find that my host family grandmother had passed away early that morning. I was surprised by the way Malians approach death. It was much more a celebration of her life than it was mourning her death. The women spent the morning preparing food for my host family as hundreds of people came to great the family throughout the morning. I sat for a few minutes with the women who sit inside the house with the body and sprayed the body with perfume before I left. The rest of the morning things continued as normal doing chores about the house that I thought that might be all. Around 4pm my homologue came to get me and we went to the common area where the service was held. The body was laying in the center of a wide circle of people and there were people singing and drumming for a while before the Pasteur performed a memorial service. All the while, women came to perfume the body as several men led prayers and hymns. When the service was over the attendants (I’m guessing about 700 men women and children) rushed out to the fields were the burial would take place. The hole was already dug by the men of the family and they climbed into the hole and were handed the body which they proceeded to use mud bricks and mud to seal the grave. A prayer was said then all the men of the village took turns shoveling dirt into the grave. Tree limbs and more mud bricks were the final step to keep animals from digging at the grave. we all went back to my host families house where we danced and sang and played the drums for a few minutes. People then went home and ate dinner until about 9pm when the music started again and people met at the common area for dancing that lasted quite literally until Sunday morning at around 6am. Before leaving Sunday morning, I went to great my host dad and still hundreds of women were gathered eating breakfast with the family. In all of this I never saw any tears shed, only smiles and celebrations. My homologue told me that her death was an opportunity to bring the community together to celebrate her life and that there is no reason to mourn when we will all die one day. Blunt, but a lovely way to approach death.
In other news, my homologues nephew planted some flowers in my garden...which is very hard to keep alive in Africa. Baba, one of the other boys told me that Seni just planted the flowers so he could spend more time with me because he has a crush on me, haha. My afternoons are still spent watering the garden and my arms are becoming quite toned due to the work. I’ve also enjoyed helping cook with some of the women in the mornings and am mortified that I ate Toh voluntarily for the first time upon coming to Africa and found it good. Wouldn’t want to eat it every day, but considering a few months ago I quite literally gagged myself when eating it, this is absolutely unprecedented. I’ve bonded with the family dog which I’m constantly being made fun of for. But I started to regret this development when he came prancing into my concession holding the bloody neck and head of a baby lamb and proceeded to eat it in my yard. Talk about reminders of my new life in Africa. I managed to give myself a fat lip when I went to get my water from the pump. I was tying the 20 liter water container to my bike rack with the rubber tie like always when the tie snapped and smacked me in the face. With half a dozen kids gasping at my rapidly swelling and bleeding lip I had to finish tying the container and rode home with very little dignity left. My Peace Corps doctor came to my site for site visit just to make sure everything was up to par and she gave me a flu shot. I have a love hate relationship with my doctor. She acts quickly to get us healthy but I’ve yet to see her without getting a shot. In the past year since I found out I was nominated for a position, I‘ve lost track but can only assume I’m well over 25 shots I’ve had to get, plus having to take malaria medicine every week for the next 2-3 years.
Love,
Cait
January 18, 2010
It is rare that I get the chance to send emails so closely together but I doubt it will happen enough for anyone to become spoiled by it.
In answer to a question Uncle Larry in particular asked, there is bee keeping in Mali. Honey is available in Bamako and some of the regional capitals though it is much harder to come by in village. As a potential project I’m trying to feel out my village for anyone interested in being trained as a beekeeper and thus introducing honey into the market. I think it would be a great opportunity for someone to start their own business or at least add to their income. The APCD (the head of every sector) of the environment sector is a beekeeper and would be more than willing to come to my village for training if I can find someone willing to take on the risk of learning a new trade (MUCH easier said than done)
I’ve returned to the local school (grades 7-9) a few times and assist in the English classes which is really fun and the kids seem to really enjoy it, that might be due to me not beating them when they get a question wrong, but I like to think that I’m a decent teacher. After working at summer camps for two summers, I’ve become more comfortable and enjoy working with kids who used to really intimidate me. I helped grade some papers from the final exam of the fall semester and the average of the English exam for the 7th grade was about 35%. Talk about discouraging. It makes me realize how lucky I am to be surrounded by highly motivated kids in my concession. My homologue’s kids get back from school around 5pm and then help with the cooking and bathing of younger kids then they spend much of the rest of the evening studying (at least Monday through Thursday). I guess I didn’t realize that study time is actually a luxury here and if my homologue didn’t make time for it, they could easily fill the evening doing more chores which are truly endless.
As far as my village I’ve only just realized that I’ve given few details about it. Sebanso is one of 7 villages making up the commune N’torosso. The so called “capital” of my commune is the village of Bolokalaso where the school I work with is located as well as the mayor’s office. The local doctor’s office is about 3 kilometers from my village and the maternity is situated directly across from it near the village of Sokoroni where the local tailor lives. My village, Sebanso, has about 650 people. It is a Christian village and next to my Chief of Village, the Pasteur is probably the most respected man in village. The dugutigi (chief of village) is kind of royalty and the title is passed down to the oldest son upon death. My dugutigi resets broken bones and works with traditional medicine which is pretty cool to see him brewing sometimes. My village is quite well off, relatively speaking, I have reasons to believe due in part to it being a Christian instead of a Muslim village that I’ll discuss later. Sebanso is very fortunate in that we have an wide array of resources such as an adult literacy program, a school (pre-K to 6th grade), a mill grinder, a cereal bank, and financial bank, a butiki aka the Wal-Mart of my village, well builders, animal raisers (and a veterinarian who lives in a neighboring village. Someone I’ve come to know quite well seeing as my homologue is president of the animal raisers association), an established women’s garden, basket weavers, and a tanteen (a women’s group that collects money each month from its members and every month a woman from the group gets to keep the money as a sort of personal savings).
Now, you might be curious as to my hypothesis that Christian villages financially are better off than Muslim villages or animist villages for that matter. It’s actually a very rational and logical conclusion that I’ve come to. The Muslim religion allows and some might argue promote polygamy allowing men to take up to four wives. When these men take multiple wives, with it come multiples sets of children and as all parents will attest, children are expensive. This also demands more housing among other things and nothing comes free. Christian families are still relatively large, most families I know have at least 6 kids but, when compared to some Muslim families where they have 20 or more children supported by one man, you can do the math for yourselves. Often these families are forced to take the older children out of school to work in the fields and take care of the younger children thus depriving them of much needed education, poor quality though it may be. I can’t reiterate enough how important I think improving the education system is to providing sustainable economic growth.
I’ve just returned from my first visit up north which I’m sure will have many more to come. I caught a bus to Sevrae on Thursday and arrived around 6:30 pm…about a three hour bus ride which was incredibly quick by Malian standards. I stayed in sevrae for the night then went to Bandiagara for a day before returning to sevrae on Saturday afternoon and now I’ve just returned to San. Bandiagara was absolutely gorgeous and I can’t wait to go on a hike through Dogon country. The cliffs, unlike the rest of Mali, are very picturesque and scenic (in the dry desert kind of way of course). Saturday afternoon was leisurely spent by the pool of a local hotel; I however refused to swim when I could not see the bottom on the pool. I did get to enjoy a cold apple juice while reading a magazine and listening to my ipod which was delightful. My friend and I ate dinner at a local restaurant that who he knew well and we were chatting with the owner seeing as we were the only customers. He was complaining about the affects terrorism and al-Qaida is having on his business. In fact, much of the tourism industry in the north has all but disappeared with Americans and most all western tourists having been advised/forbidden on going to Timbuktu, Gao and Kidal. It’s so sad to see what might have been a great chance of development absolutely destroyed.
Love,
Cait
In answer to a question Uncle Larry in particular asked, there is bee keeping in Mali. Honey is available in Bamako and some of the regional capitals though it is much harder to come by in village. As a potential project I’m trying to feel out my village for anyone interested in being trained as a beekeeper and thus introducing honey into the market. I think it would be a great opportunity for someone to start their own business or at least add to their income. The APCD (the head of every sector) of the environment sector is a beekeeper and would be more than willing to come to my village for training if I can find someone willing to take on the risk of learning a new trade (MUCH easier said than done)
I’ve returned to the local school (grades 7-9) a few times and assist in the English classes which is really fun and the kids seem to really enjoy it, that might be due to me not beating them when they get a question wrong, but I like to think that I’m a decent teacher. After working at summer camps for two summers, I’ve become more comfortable and enjoy working with kids who used to really intimidate me. I helped grade some papers from the final exam of the fall semester and the average of the English exam for the 7th grade was about 35%. Talk about discouraging. It makes me realize how lucky I am to be surrounded by highly motivated kids in my concession. My homologue’s kids get back from school around 5pm and then help with the cooking and bathing of younger kids then they spend much of the rest of the evening studying (at least Monday through Thursday). I guess I didn’t realize that study time is actually a luxury here and if my homologue didn’t make time for it, they could easily fill the evening doing more chores which are truly endless.
As far as my village I’ve only just realized that I’ve given few details about it. Sebanso is one of 7 villages making up the commune N’torosso. The so called “capital” of my commune is the village of Bolokalaso where the school I work with is located as well as the mayor’s office. The local doctor’s office is about 3 kilometers from my village and the maternity is situated directly across from it near the village of Sokoroni where the local tailor lives. My village, Sebanso, has about 650 people. It is a Christian village and next to my Chief of Village, the Pasteur is probably the most respected man in village. The dugutigi (chief of village) is kind of royalty and the title is passed down to the oldest son upon death. My dugutigi resets broken bones and works with traditional medicine which is pretty cool to see him brewing sometimes. My village is quite well off, relatively speaking, I have reasons to believe due in part to it being a Christian instead of a Muslim village that I’ll discuss later. Sebanso is very fortunate in that we have an wide array of resources such as an adult literacy program, a school (pre-K to 6th grade), a mill grinder, a cereal bank, and financial bank, a butiki aka the Wal-Mart of my village, well builders, animal raisers (and a veterinarian who lives in a neighboring village. Someone I’ve come to know quite well seeing as my homologue is president of the animal raisers association), an established women’s garden, basket weavers, and a tanteen (a women’s group that collects money each month from its members and every month a woman from the group gets to keep the money as a sort of personal savings).
Now, you might be curious as to my hypothesis that Christian villages financially are better off than Muslim villages or animist villages for that matter. It’s actually a very rational and logical conclusion that I’ve come to. The Muslim religion allows and some might argue promote polygamy allowing men to take up to four wives. When these men take multiple wives, with it come multiples sets of children and as all parents will attest, children are expensive. This also demands more housing among other things and nothing comes free. Christian families are still relatively large, most families I know have at least 6 kids but, when compared to some Muslim families where they have 20 or more children supported by one man, you can do the math for yourselves. Often these families are forced to take the older children out of school to work in the fields and take care of the younger children thus depriving them of much needed education, poor quality though it may be. I can’t reiterate enough how important I think improving the education system is to providing sustainable economic growth.
I’ve just returned from my first visit up north which I’m sure will have many more to come. I caught a bus to Sevrae on Thursday and arrived around 6:30 pm…about a three hour bus ride which was incredibly quick by Malian standards. I stayed in sevrae for the night then went to Bandiagara for a day before returning to sevrae on Saturday afternoon and now I’ve just returned to San. Bandiagara was absolutely gorgeous and I can’t wait to go on a hike through Dogon country. The cliffs, unlike the rest of Mali, are very picturesque and scenic (in the dry desert kind of way of course). Saturday afternoon was leisurely spent by the pool of a local hotel; I however refused to swim when I could not see the bottom on the pool. I did get to enjoy a cold apple juice while reading a magazine and listening to my ipod which was delightful. My friend and I ate dinner at a local restaurant that who he knew well and we were chatting with the owner seeing as we were the only customers. He was complaining about the affects terrorism and al-Qaida is having on his business. In fact, much of the tourism industry in the north has all but disappeared with Americans and most all western tourists having been advised/forbidden on going to Timbuktu, Gao and Kidal. It’s so sad to see what might have been a great chance of development absolutely destroyed.
Love,
Cait
January 14, 2010
I’ve just spent about three weeks at site without much reprieve and am thus thoroughly enjoying my trip to San. Of course, my trip was made even better because I didn’t have to bike in. My APCD (“my boss”) came to my site for a surprise visit to check on everything and he ended giving me a lift to San which was awesome, getting to ride in a car is always a treat.
My mailbox was inundated with letters that have arrived over the past few weeks and I can’t tell you how much it means to me. The holidays were anything but “normal” for me this year and it was so nice to hear things are still going on as “normal” back home. I had lots of questions asked in the letters so I’ll do my best to answer as many as possible without boring you too bad.
My past few weeks have been consumed with gardening, which is the primary activity during cold season. In the mornings I help in the women’s garden and in the afternoon I help in the family garden of my homologue. We currently are growing onions, tomatoes, potatoes, lettuce, some vegetable resembling an eggplant, beans, and we have several papaya trees that are just coming into season. In the women’s garden, we also have some trees in which we eat the roots of. I’m pushing for green beans and carrots next year, but it will take some convincing (there is not much of a demand in market for them). Gardening is incredibly demanding work. All the actual planting and tilling is done with hand held hoes made with a piece of metal wedged into a chunk of wood, kind of primitive but quite effective. Of course, this means that to garden you have to be bent over (there is no sitting or kneeling here; it’s always bending at the waist so that they’re pretty much doubled over). Of course, like most things in Mali I’m completely inadequate at gardening but I can help water the garden so in the afternoon, the young boys in the family draw the water from the well and fill the women’s watering cans and we water the whole garden. It takes about an hour every afternoon to water and then they have to weed and tend to the garden. We go to market every Thursday in a town about 10k from my village and then my homologue goes to San every Monday for market because he has a moto. I always ride my bike to market with Kari, my homologues best friend because he only has a bike too, and nearly all the women take donkey or horse drawn carts with their goods to sell. I can find pretty much everything I need at market as far as food goes, bread is always a treat because I don’t really get it any other time. The fish section of the market is downright foul smelling but the Malians sure do love their dried fish, I however tend to stick to the fruits and veggies. Watermelon season has just ended, sad to say, but we still have bananas and a cross between an orange and a lemon. There are “booths” set up everywhere selling everything you can image from nails to clothes to baskets and jewelry. The booths are actually just tarps tied together and to tree posts in attempt to block the sun, however, the ropes often hang low and more than once I’ve close lined myself while trying to navigate the chaos of hundreds of people bargaining and selling around me.
I’ve learned so much about reusing since coming to Mali. Potato sacks have absolutely unbounded possibilities. They’re used for storage, for sack gardening in houses for herbs, they can be shredded into individual threads and made into rope which is thus used to tie the animals up, pull water from the well, as clothes lines, “bungee cords” for loading goods on the donkey carts, etc, the threads of sack are also used to mend clothes as well as sew together leaking/broken gourd baskets. No waste.
I’ve learned how to make mud bricks which are incredibly heavy, and then made mud fences and houses from the bricks. I’ve learned how to make peanut butter, which is incredibly labor intensive and I’ll never be able to eat it as casually again without remembering what all went into making it. I help with the cooking and have learned to make toh, a classic Malian dish I choose not to eat on a daily basis as the Malians do. It too is very labor intensive. The millet has to be pounded, then sifted and pounded and sifted then cooked over a wood fire while stirring constantly at a consistency of cement. None of this is made any easier by cooking over a wood fire that causes my eyes to absolutely burn and tear and nose to run so that I’m blinded and stuffy by the end.
Our bank in village is surprisingly sophisticated in that we give out loans. We are only open Friday mornings, but last Friday alone we gave four loans. There is also a “savings account” so people quit tucking their money under their mattress, though the majority of people still do. Most people’s guarantees for their loans are a specified number of goats, cows or donkeys which I found pretty entertaining. Though not very long ago the primary punishment for people defaulting on a loan was to make them stand in the sun for two days and if the still wouldn’t pay, they’d go to jail, so I was very impressed to see this improvement in just a few years.
The African Cup of Nations is going on in Angola right now. I don’t know how much US coverage it’s getting, but there is such passion for soccer here that it’s all my village can talk about. The tournament actually started with Mali vs. Angola and it looked like it was all over when ten minutes to go, Angola was up 4-0, yet somehow, the final score was 4-4. I’ve never seen anything like it. The fact that the tournament is being held in Angola is pretty controversial and has been made more so by the recent attack on the Togolese team, killing three on their way to the tournament and causing them to drop out and return to Togo. The bus had just crossed into Angola from Congo when they were attacked by a local rebel group and the bus went under gun fire for nearly half an hour. Angola is also not a particularly easy place to get too and thus very expensive so not many fans get to go to the tournament though millions of dollars went into infrastructure and stadiums (remember that over half the population in Angola is living on less than a dollar a day). Also, Angola only ended their 27 year long civil war in 2002 and are still very much recovering in every imaginable context.
If anyone is interested, I have successfully defeated my sand trap when biking, though the count was lost well after it won for the 30th time. I figured it’s all about speed and leaving early in the morning before the sand has had time to loosen up and suck me in like quick sand. It’s been pointed out to me too that I hold my handle bars of my bike unusually and I realized that I hold onto my handle bars like I would hold the reins while riding with my pinky and thumb on the underneath of the handle. Americans and Malians both have commented on it and I’ve tried to change but to no avail.
Love,
Cait
My mailbox was inundated with letters that have arrived over the past few weeks and I can’t tell you how much it means to me. The holidays were anything but “normal” for me this year and it was so nice to hear things are still going on as “normal” back home. I had lots of questions asked in the letters so I’ll do my best to answer as many as possible without boring you too bad.
My past few weeks have been consumed with gardening, which is the primary activity during cold season. In the mornings I help in the women’s garden and in the afternoon I help in the family garden of my homologue. We currently are growing onions, tomatoes, potatoes, lettuce, some vegetable resembling an eggplant, beans, and we have several papaya trees that are just coming into season. In the women’s garden, we also have some trees in which we eat the roots of. I’m pushing for green beans and carrots next year, but it will take some convincing (there is not much of a demand in market for them). Gardening is incredibly demanding work. All the actual planting and tilling is done with hand held hoes made with a piece of metal wedged into a chunk of wood, kind of primitive but quite effective. Of course, this means that to garden you have to be bent over (there is no sitting or kneeling here; it’s always bending at the waist so that they’re pretty much doubled over). Of course, like most things in Mali I’m completely inadequate at gardening but I can help water the garden so in the afternoon, the young boys in the family draw the water from the well and fill the women’s watering cans and we water the whole garden. It takes about an hour every afternoon to water and then they have to weed and tend to the garden. We go to market every Thursday in a town about 10k from my village and then my homologue goes to San every Monday for market because he has a moto. I always ride my bike to market with Kari, my homologues best friend because he only has a bike too, and nearly all the women take donkey or horse drawn carts with their goods to sell. I can find pretty much everything I need at market as far as food goes, bread is always a treat because I don’t really get it any other time. The fish section of the market is downright foul smelling but the Malians sure do love their dried fish, I however tend to stick to the fruits and veggies. Watermelon season has just ended, sad to say, but we still have bananas and a cross between an orange and a lemon. There are “booths” set up everywhere selling everything you can image from nails to clothes to baskets and jewelry. The booths are actually just tarps tied together and to tree posts in attempt to block the sun, however, the ropes often hang low and more than once I’ve close lined myself while trying to navigate the chaos of hundreds of people bargaining and selling around me.
I’ve learned so much about reusing since coming to Mali. Potato sacks have absolutely unbounded possibilities. They’re used for storage, for sack gardening in houses for herbs, they can be shredded into individual threads and made into rope which is thus used to tie the animals up, pull water from the well, as clothes lines, “bungee cords” for loading goods on the donkey carts, etc, the threads of sack are also used to mend clothes as well as sew together leaking/broken gourd baskets. No waste.
I’ve learned how to make mud bricks which are incredibly heavy, and then made mud fences and houses from the bricks. I’ve learned how to make peanut butter, which is incredibly labor intensive and I’ll never be able to eat it as casually again without remembering what all went into making it. I help with the cooking and have learned to make toh, a classic Malian dish I choose not to eat on a daily basis as the Malians do. It too is very labor intensive. The millet has to be pounded, then sifted and pounded and sifted then cooked over a wood fire while stirring constantly at a consistency of cement. None of this is made any easier by cooking over a wood fire that causes my eyes to absolutely burn and tear and nose to run so that I’m blinded and stuffy by the end.
Our bank in village is surprisingly sophisticated in that we give out loans. We are only open Friday mornings, but last Friday alone we gave four loans. There is also a “savings account” so people quit tucking their money under their mattress, though the majority of people still do. Most people’s guarantees for their loans are a specified number of goats, cows or donkeys which I found pretty entertaining. Though not very long ago the primary punishment for people defaulting on a loan was to make them stand in the sun for two days and if the still wouldn’t pay, they’d go to jail, so I was very impressed to see this improvement in just a few years.
The African Cup of Nations is going on in Angola right now. I don’t know how much US coverage it’s getting, but there is such passion for soccer here that it’s all my village can talk about. The tournament actually started with Mali vs. Angola and it looked like it was all over when ten minutes to go, Angola was up 4-0, yet somehow, the final score was 4-4. I’ve never seen anything like it. The fact that the tournament is being held in Angola is pretty controversial and has been made more so by the recent attack on the Togolese team, killing three on their way to the tournament and causing them to drop out and return to Togo. The bus had just crossed into Angola from Congo when they were attacked by a local rebel group and the bus went under gun fire for nearly half an hour. Angola is also not a particularly easy place to get too and thus very expensive so not many fans get to go to the tournament though millions of dollars went into infrastructure and stadiums (remember that over half the population in Angola is living on less than a dollar a day). Also, Angola only ended their 27 year long civil war in 2002 and are still very much recovering in every imaginable context.
If anyone is interested, I have successfully defeated my sand trap when biking, though the count was lost well after it won for the 30th time. I figured it’s all about speed and leaving early in the morning before the sand has had time to loosen up and suck me in like quick sand. It’s been pointed out to me too that I hold my handle bars of my bike unusually and I realized that I hold onto my handle bars like I would hold the reins while riding with my pinky and thumb on the underneath of the handle. Americans and Malians both have commented on it and I’ve tried to change but to no avail.
Love,
Cait
December 31, 2009
Happy New Years Eve!!! I hope 2010 gets off to a good start. This New Years Eve won’t be quite as glamorous as last year on Halong Bay, Vietnam, but I’m excited to get it started none the less
My past few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind. IST technically ended on the 19th, but I opted to stay until the 23rd for a workshop with an NGO called Right to Play. It uses sports and games to educate students on AIDS. There were about 25 of us who stayed and other sectors had field trips as well, so it turned to be most of our STAGE that stayed the extra two days and then got to take Peace Corps transport out on Wednesday. I left for San on Thursday, Christmas Eve, and had my first Malian outfit made. Christian villages have a fabric printed every year so my homologue really wanted me to wear it for the Christmas service. As it turns out, they celebrate Christmas for three days 24-26, so basically a never ending feast. They killed several pigs which was a pleasant surprise after not having seen pork in months.
While in San I was able to pick up some packages and the Christmas tree and decorations you sent mom absolutely made my Christmas. I’m sure I looked ridiculous riding back with a mountain of boxes on my bike but I wanted take everything home. I turned on my ipod and listened to Christmas music and decorated my tree while snacking on the cookies and goodies. It was very special and I even had three wrapped presents to put “under” the tree plus my stocking, all of which I saved for Christmas morning. Christmas day was reserved primarily for a 4 hour church service with tons of singing and some dancing then chatting and relaxing the rest of the day while the 26th was the all night dance party. There is no way I can keep up with those dancers so I stuck with the old ladies who were much more my speed.
Since then, things calmed down a little. It is Christmas break so all the kids are home all day which I’ve never really experienced so it’s been fun playing with them, and I’ll try to send a video or two of them singing and dancing. Most of the youth my age also returned from Bamako and other regional capitals from school so it was nice to see them and I’ve had more visitors this past week than most my time here added together. My homologue must have told our Pasteur that all my friends were in Mopti or Bamako for Christmas but I had come to site, so Daniel (Pasteur) announced it on Christmas morning to the whole village so they were all smiling at me kind of awkwardly for the rest of the day, very embarrassing.
The kids have been my constant companions as of late and I’ve had the chance to see how they entertain themselves. Two boys, Izac and Etienne, were bowling one afternoon. They each lined up 4 old D batteries and then used a ninth battery as the bowling ball. This entertained them for hours. The girls have their version of rind around the rosy as well as patty cake so it’s been fun watching them play that too. I brought a nerf football and they’ve taken to playing soccer with it which has turned out to be incredibly entertaining seeing as a football has really awkward bounces that they way over/under estimate when to kick. Whenever I’m having a bad day I just have to spend a few minutes with the kids (certain kids of course drive me absolutely crazy so I’m kind of selective who gets to play in my yard) to make me feel better.
Love,
Cait
My past few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind. IST technically ended on the 19th, but I opted to stay until the 23rd for a workshop with an NGO called Right to Play. It uses sports and games to educate students on AIDS. There were about 25 of us who stayed and other sectors had field trips as well, so it turned to be most of our STAGE that stayed the extra two days and then got to take Peace Corps transport out on Wednesday. I left for San on Thursday, Christmas Eve, and had my first Malian outfit made. Christian villages have a fabric printed every year so my homologue really wanted me to wear it for the Christmas service. As it turns out, they celebrate Christmas for three days 24-26, so basically a never ending feast. They killed several pigs which was a pleasant surprise after not having seen pork in months.
While in San I was able to pick up some packages and the Christmas tree and decorations you sent mom absolutely made my Christmas. I’m sure I looked ridiculous riding back with a mountain of boxes on my bike but I wanted take everything home. I turned on my ipod and listened to Christmas music and decorated my tree while snacking on the cookies and goodies. It was very special and I even had three wrapped presents to put “under” the tree plus my stocking, all of which I saved for Christmas morning. Christmas day was reserved primarily for a 4 hour church service with tons of singing and some dancing then chatting and relaxing the rest of the day while the 26th was the all night dance party. There is no way I can keep up with those dancers so I stuck with the old ladies who were much more my speed.
Since then, things calmed down a little. It is Christmas break so all the kids are home all day which I’ve never really experienced so it’s been fun playing with them, and I’ll try to send a video or two of them singing and dancing. Most of the youth my age also returned from Bamako and other regional capitals from school so it was nice to see them and I’ve had more visitors this past week than most my time here added together. My homologue must have told our Pasteur that all my friends were in Mopti or Bamako for Christmas but I had come to site, so Daniel (Pasteur) announced it on Christmas morning to the whole village so they were all smiling at me kind of awkwardly for the rest of the day, very embarrassing.
The kids have been my constant companions as of late and I’ve had the chance to see how they entertain themselves. Two boys, Izac and Etienne, were bowling one afternoon. They each lined up 4 old D batteries and then used a ninth battery as the bowling ball. This entertained them for hours. The girls have their version of rind around the rosy as well as patty cake so it’s been fun watching them play that too. I brought a nerf football and they’ve taken to playing soccer with it which has turned out to be incredibly entertaining seeing as a football has really awkward bounces that they way over/under estimate when to kick. Whenever I’m having a bad day I just have to spend a few minutes with the kids (certain kids of course drive me absolutely crazy so I’m kind of selective who gets to play in my yard) to make me feel better.
Love,
Cait
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