Turkeys, guacamole, and pizza, oh my!

As you can tell by the title, for the past two weeks I have been living it up on a mini-vacation in a magical place in southern Mali called Sikasso. Sikasso is magical because it has fruit and vegetables! Oranges! Bananas! Pineapple! Apples! Cucumbers! Green beans! And...(drumroll please) avocados year-round!!

I was in Sikassoville (the city) for our Peace Corps Thanksgiving celebration. And it was an epic celebration to say the least! My friend Sarah planned the majority of it, including a dinner of turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, salad, fruit salad, stuffing, apple pie, and pumpkin pie! We all ate so much - it was delicious! The next day we had a donkey race, which I did not participate in but took many photos instead (most of them feature people falling off donkeys, ha). My region unfortunately did not win - Sikasso beat us - but Sarah won for Sikasso, so that was fun. The next day was a trip to the waterfalls, where we camped out overnight. They were absolutely beautiful! It was about a 3 hour car ride out to the village by the waterfalls. This car ride was pretty much hilarious - definitely my worst Malian transit experience. The car broke down at least three times because the gasoline kept leaking out in mysterious places. We made it though! After the car ride was a 20 minute hike, which featured crossing a bridge with no handrails - basically just a log! It was a fun experience for all of us ('Don't die!'). The waterfalls are gorgeous though - there are three levels, and we hiked to all of them. We spent the night at the falls, hanging out around our campfire and eating guacamole and tortillas for dinner. The next morning we hiked back out, then got back into the car...which proceeded to break down yet again! For the last twenty minutes of the ride there were at least eleven people crammed into a car that should fit seven. Hilarious.

Later that day, my friends Ali, Sarah, and I headed out to Sarah's site for a week. I had such a great time at her site - we made pizza, of all things, en brousse! To do so, we created what we call a brousse oven. A brousse oven is essentially one pot inside a much larger pot with rocks and water at the bottom. When you put a lid on this contraption, it acts as an oven. The pizza was so good, even better because we were eating it in a small village in rural Mali. Sarah's host family and friends were really nice. They call her 'Crazy lady' as a joke, and of course included us in that immediately (white people do a lot of 'crazy' things here, like dancing all over the place, or flossing teeth, or painting their front doors). There were several differences between our villages - I live in a Peul village, and she lives in a Senufo/Bambara village. The most noticeable difference is that people down here greet a LOT. And they greet everyone. For a long time. Peuls usually greet people they know, and even then they just ask a couple questions (how are you? how is your family? over). Down here in Bambara country, they greet absolutely everyone, even strangers, with a million and one questions. The Bambara are definitely a lot friendlier!

We had one interesting conversation with an English teacher at the school. He came over to talk with us to improve his English. We were talking about gender roles here in Mali - how men claim to do all the hard work, yet in reality sit around for probably half the day drinking tea while women do all the cooking, cleaning, and sometimes farming. We asked him if he was going to ask his wife to do all the work for him when he gets married. His response (and I'm quoting): 'I am not sure. Here in Mali, it is different. I pay my wife's family to marry her. After that, she is like my slave.'

Now, I would hope that he was just mistranslating in his head - English is his third language, after all. Even if he was mistranslating though, it is still incredibly shocking to hear something like that spoken in English. We questioned him after that, but he kept on saying that people would make fun of him if he washed dishes or did laundry. After that, I said, 'Change starts with one person! That person could be you!' (Yes, incredibly trite, but that's life.) That made him think for a little bit. At the end of the day, I'm sure that when he gets married he will teach English and his wife will do all the endless housework and some fieldwork on top of that....but I hope that he remembers our conversation from time to time and thinks about what he could do to help his wife.

Gender roles here are so hard to deal with: I see women work all day long, breaking their backs drawing water from the well, working in the fields, chopping firewood with a baby strapped to their back, carrying two buckets of water when nine months pregnant. My job is largely cross-culture: to explain American culture to Malians and explain Malian culture to Americans. I spend a lot of my time having conversations with Malians in Fulfulde about how in America, men and women are equal. That they share the work. Women work outside the home, and that's normal. But it is hard to do that sometimes, when even after long conversations where I prove my point quite succinctly with a very educated Malian man in English, he says that change won't start with him.

Yummy in the tummy!

It is official: the garden is up and running!

A couple weeks ago, my host family and I ate our first meal from the garden: salad with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions. There is something so wonderful about eating food straight from the garden that you grew. All the kids were so excited about it - they only get vegetables once in a blue moon, so it is a real treat for them. They all fought over the last bits of lettuce in the communal bowl. I couldn't help but compare them to American kids, who I highly doubt would ever fight over who got the most tomatoes or cucumber slices. But these vegetables are better to them than candy! The watermelons are ready to harvest now too, so last night for dinner I had salad and a huge slice of watermelon for dessert! It honestly amazes me that the soil in our garden - very sandy - can produce gigantic juicy watermelons! Score one for food security!

In addition, a couple weeks ago we had a very important group of visitors: a NGO by a French couple that is building a garden for an association of Malians out in Bankass - Dogon Country. Before they began work on their new community garden, they were showing the Malians around to other gardens and allowing Malians to teach Malians good gardening techniques. They heard of our garden, and chose it as one of the teaching sites. Moussa came out with his entourage to show them around. He led a mini-session on tree planting, and each person in the group planted a mango tree! Then, completely unplanned, Coumbare took some of the group aside and told them about her work in the vegetable nursery. She basically taught them everything she had learned through my lessons and her experience! I was so proud of her! For a woman to speak in public in front of strangers, especially strange men, is a huge deal here. When I first came, she would not even ask questions if a man was leading a meeting. That day, she spoke confidently in public! Again, so proud.

Last week was the Muslim holiday of Tabaski, and we celebrated by killing a sheep and snacking on it all day long (woohoo!). The Tabaski sheep is like the Thanksgiving turkey - every family who can afford to kills a sheep. If you cannot afford a sheep, you get a cheaper animal, like goat, chicken, or even pigeon. Tabaski celebrates when Abraham was told to sacrifice his son Ishmael by Allah. At the last minute, Allah saved Ishmael and replaced him with a sheep (hence the eating of the sheep). Sound like the Christian story of Abraham and Isaac? Yup. It is the biggest holiday of the year - everyone is dressed in their fanciest outfits and goes around greeting all day and eating meat with their family and neighbors. I unfortunately had to eat bits of stomach, kidney, and liver (very gross, but it would be very rude to refuse). All in all, a good holiday!

History Time!

I recently finished a book on the history of Timbuktu, and in it was an interesting description of the Fulani people - the majority ethnic group in my village. This pertains to them before the Islamic conquest and their conversion to Islam, so says little about their culture today, but it is still fascinating history. The excerpt below is from Timbuktu: The Sahara's Fabled City of Gold by Marq de Villiers and Sheila Hirtle (Walker Publishing Co: New York, 2007), p. 47-49.

"The Fulani, or Fulbe, or Peul, are an interesting people who have spread throughout the African savanna, and late in Timbuktu's life had a more or less disastrous effect on its politics. Their origins are in Senegal-Gambia, the product of admixture between native Wolof and incoming Berbers, yielding a modern people who are dark of skin with Arab or European features; indeed, newborn Fulani are often white, though they quickly turn dark. Throughout history the prickly Fulani were notorious for their fanatical views on their own racial purity and their insistence on their own beauty, even to the extent that an ordinary-looking Fulani man would encourage his wife to give birth to sons of better-looking men so as to improve the race. This fanaticism was later transferred to religion, and when the Fulani adopted Islam in later centuries their zeal gave rise to waves of jihadist warfare that roiled Timbuktu and its region for generations. About seven million Fulani are now spread out across a dozen countries.

"On the Niger, they settled somewhere around 1400 in Masina, west of Timbuktu; the Tarikh of al-Sa'adi often referred to the Masinakoi, or sultans of Masina. For reasons unknown they drew the unyielding hatred of the Songhai tyrant Sonni Ali and later, in 1498, became the unwilling subjects of the Songhai, when Askia Mohamed defeated them in battle, but they resisted to the last and maintained their own unrelenting hostility to their conquerors until after the Moroccan invasions of 1590.

"The pre-Islamic Fulani had a complicated cosmology. Most African societies, though animist, believed in some sort of supreme being, but the Fulani were more explicit than most; making them fairly easy converts when Muslim proselytizers came through in the centuries after Muhammad. They also had a creation myth that speaks eloquently, if rather cynically, of resurrection and redemption.

At the beginning there was a huge drop of milk,
Then Doondari came and created stone.
Then stone created iron;
And iron created fire;
And fire created water;
And water created air.
Then Doondari descended a second time.
And he took the five elements
And he shaped them into man.
But man was proud.
Then Doondari created blindness and blindness defeated man.
But when blindness became too proud,
Doondari created sleep and sleep defeated blindness;
But when sleep became too proud,
Doondari created worry and worry defeated sleep;
But when worry became too proud,
Doondari created death, and death defeated worry;
But when death became too proud,
Doondari descended for the third time
And he came as Gueno the eternal one,
And Gueno defeated death."

And the winner is...

Just kidding, there are no winners. Although I have been asked to share the top five books I've read this year (from July 2009 to July 2010). This proved to be a very difficult choice, as I've read quite a few (see list in side-bar), so I decided to split it into fiction and nonfiction. So in no particular order and without further ado:

Top 5 Nonfiction Books
- Amazing Grace by Jonathan Kozol. Fantastic and incredibly thought provoking. It makes you want to do something, right now, about urban poverty in America. Living in Mali, I live with very poor people (in money, not in spirit). Having volunteered with urban poverty organizations and studied poverty in cities in college, I know it's bad. I would rather live in Mali then be poor in any city in America. People here are poor, but they don't have daily shootouts and drug dealers down the streets. Something needs to be done, I'm not sure what but I'm a fan of people actually being aware of what their actions cause. And environmental justice and non-racist city planning. And social services that actually work.

- The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. I'm a little late to reading Pollan's books, but they are so well-written and provide thoughtful analyses of our food system. Eat local.

- Madam Secretary by Madeline Albright. Perfect book for someone who gets geeked out by foreign policy and politics. Very long, but I could have read more.

- Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond. Epic book. I've tried to read it four times, and finally succeeded in Mali.

- America's Women by Gail Collins. Such a fun book! I love the stories of the many different women she shares in this history of America.

Top 5 Fiction Books
- Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver. I love Kingsolver, and have read all of her books except for the newest one since I came to Mali. This is one of my favorites. Great story that weaves in the importance of the environment and ecology with the power of family.

- Persuasion by Jane Austen. Pride & Prejudice is actually my favorite Austen, but I felt the need to put up something I hadn't read before Mali. Love her.

- The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. I didn't like Hemingway before I read this book. Now he is one of my favorites.

- Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. Laugh out loud funny. I was reading this in my compound and kept on getting weird glances from my neighbors because I kept on laughing.

- A Passage to India by E.M. Forster. Great book about colonialism in India.

I'm Back!

Well, after a wonderful and much too short break in America, I am back in Mali! First of all, thank you to the so many people who made my stay in America so fabulous. I loved being home with family and seeing the friends who made the time to visit. And of course, Sam and Nate's wedding was absolutely wonderful! It was great to catch up with friends and spend time with family. THANK YOU!

Now, to Mali: The first couple weeks back in country are always rough. It's really hot, there's no good food, massive caffeine headaches keep on happening, and family and friends are thousands of miles away. Ugh, you think. Why I am here? And then you wait. You sit and sweat through hot afternoons. You try to read War and Peace, and end up reading People instead. You venture out and fumble your way through remembering Fulfulde. And it's absolutely horrible for about a day. And then you see your peeps in village, and it all comes back. Drinking tea, shooting the breeze, shooing children away, speaking Fulfulde, and laughing a lot. Emphasis on a lot. You fall back into the routine, and everything seems to be okay. At least until that unlucky nth person of the day asks you for money. Then it's all over, everyone duck and cover. ;)

All the women in my village have been badgering me for a while now about doing another project: digging another well in the garden and getting a pump installed in both the new well and the well we already have. Another well in the garden is really important because having only one well makes it very difficult to water an entire hectare of vegetables. Children as young as five stay home from school in order to help pull the water and carry it across the garden in order to keep their family's plot alive. This can take up to four hours a day, two hours in the morning and two in the evening. The pumps would help alleviate this problem as well, as it would take a lot of the back-breaking labor out of watering the garden. This project is still in the early stages, but I hope it comes to fruition during my service.

I tried helping to water one evening, and they gave me a small child-size bucket. It was hard work! I was struggling carrying my one teensy-tiny bucket across the garden, while thirteen-year-old girls beside me were carrying buckets three times the size of mine on their heads. If nothing else, at least I provide comic relief.

I've established a new inside joke with my host family, which cracks me up every single time. Every night by five-year-old little host brother, Ngara, comes into the compound and pretends to be absolutely exhausted by falling onto our mat. I ask him a question about America, like, 'Is there millet in America?' And he says, 'Oh, I was there today. I did not see any millet.' I then ask him if he say my family, and he responds yes. He has named my mom Fatomata and my dad Hamadoun, after himself (Ngara is a nickname for Hamadoun). This charade continues on through the rest of dinner until I leave. I always tell him to greet my family the next day when he goes to America. We have quite a lot of fun with it, and he enjoys being the new 'America expert' in the family.

Malian Art & Music

See below links to websites featuring Malian art and music:

http://www.malichic.net/

http://www.tinariwen.com/

http://www.contrejour.com/artists/habibkoite/index2_uk.php?page=news

http://www.indigoarts.com/about1b.html

http://homepage.mac.com/melissaenderle/mali/pages/bogolan.html

Fun stuff! :)

Dancing, Planting, & Fasting...oh my!

Sorry it's been a while since my last post! Things have been (surprisingly!) busy, what with the new group of volunteers coming in and the old group leaving. So what have I been up to?

Well, we had a huge party to officially open the women's garden at the end of July. The real reason for the party was that the French woman who funds some of Planete Verte, the NGO I work with sometimes, was coming to visit. However, we just so happened to decide to have the party in the garden, then drive together to another village for lunch and a region-wide soccer match. The fete was quite the big deal! I invited Ali, Sam, and Emily (other Peace Corps volunteers and close friends) to come to the fete with me - and they were not disappointed! When we got there, the DJ was already playing the best Malian music interspersed with live Peuhl music. Peuhl music is not the most pleasant to listen to - it consists of a man playing 5 or 6 extremely high-pitched notes over and over again on a wooden flute - but it was fun to see everyone get excited about it and the dancing. Then the women and men performed a traditional dance.

After, there was a presentation of all the officials present, then they talked about the garden and my current neem cream project. Neem cream is a mosquito repellent made from the leaves of the neem tree. It's really easy to make and the women love it. This was the best part for me though - they introduced me to the crowd, so I stood up and waved....and got a standing ovation from my village and shouts of 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' I was overcome with emotion because of the gratitude of these people, my friends, who had worked just as hard as I did on the project and were so happy that it was finally finished.

Then we planted some trees - 500 total! We planted jatropha trees, which produce oil that can be refined and used as fuel for cars, motos, etc. Five years down the road, maybe Sassolo will start exporting biofuel! Then it was off to the other village for a delicious lunch of zame (fried rice with cabbage, beef, potatoes, and whatever other vegetables are around). It was a great fete with great friends - both Malian and American.

Since the fete, the women have been very busy cultivating the soil and planting their plots in the garden! Most women have planted okra, millet, peanuts, beans, and onions, though soon they will have a wide array of vegetables to choose from. I've been out with them almost everyday helping and planting my own plot of peanuts and beans! Beans are my favorite...I can't wait until they are ready to harvest so I can share them with my host family for dinner! Growing things is fun. :) Right now we are trying to get the vegetable papiniere (nursery) up and running.

The last major thing that has been happening is that it is now Ramadan, the Muslim holy month of fasting. In Fulfulde, Ramadan is called Korka. Every adult who is not sick fasts every day from sunrise to sunset. This means they cannot drink anything (even water!) or eat any food. Some do not even swallow their spit! Nearly every adult in my village fasts except for me, and I don't simply because I am not Muslim, so the fast would lose its religious meaning and significance. Every night I do break the fast with my host mom though - which is quite the experience! Everyone has their radios turned on so that they can hear when they are allowed to start drinking and eating again. And the second the call begins on the radio, my host mom guzzles down a huge cup of water, then says a prayer of thanks and praise to Allah. After we drink a porridge made of sour milk, millet balls, sugar, hot pepper, and water. Which does not taste good at all, but the tradition is nice. Then we snack on peanuts or fried dough balls until dinner, which is usually something nice like rice and sauce. Those who fast then eat another meal around 11pm, and then wake up at 4am to eat a large meal to get them through the day. Not a lot of sleep this time of year!

I'm trying to get pictures up but the internet is super slow, so maybe in 2 1/2 weeks when I'm in AMERICA I can upload! See most of you soon! Yay!

Sardine o tillike jooni!

The garden is finished now!

Huzzah! After three long months of what seemed like endless tiffs with the men in my village balanced with loads of support from the women, the garden is finally finished! The garden gates were put up a couple of days ago, and the last cement ring was put into the well yesterday. Success! The only remaining problem - naturally there is one remaining - is that the garden was not built on public land but rather on land privately owned. Privately owned by one Bara Cisse. The same Bara Cisse who was in charge of building the fence and the well. Right now he is letting the women's association use his land, but at any point in time he could reclaim it. The women could take down the fence and keep it for the association, but the well would have to remain. The roots of this problem lie in my rapid flight to America when my grandfather died. Before I left for the States, the garden was to be built on public land. When I returned, they had already had completed building the fence - on Bara's land. Apparently while I was gone he convinced the women to move the garden plot. Very sly, that one. I just found out about it last week from another friend in village. Now I'm trying to convince the women's association to save money little by little so we can buy the land from Bara. It will take quite a bit of time to save that much money though - the land is worth about $500 USD. For the time being, the women are using the land as a garden though. We'll see how long Bara allows them to do so.

In other news, we have had quite the string of fetes (parties) lately! Both Sassolo and Fatoma had their yearly founding celebrations within the past two weeks. Fatoma's was so much fun - I went with Ali and her homologue, Hawa. All the women walked up and down the main street in their finest dresses. I've never seen so many weaves and fancy braiding in my life. It was like Easter Parade, Mali-style. Fantastic. In the meantime, the men were out in the bush shooting off guns and generally being manly. Then the men all of a sudden came running down the street towards the mayor's office, with the women cheering them on. All the way shooting off more guns and playing Fulfulde music on a wooden flute with drumming in the background. It was so much fun to see everyone in their fancy outfits, jumping and dancing around (the jumping was mostly done by me every time a gun was shot. The Malians thought it was hilarious that I was afraid of guns. I think it makes a lot of sense to be scared of guns. They can kill you). That night Ali and I went to get street food - yummy beans and macaroni - and saw the beginnings of what was sure to be an all-night dance party for all the village kids. Abande, abande! Welay mido yidi ma! Bring on the Yeli Fuzzo!

525,600 Minutes

I can't completely believe this myself, but I'm at the year-mark! Halfway finished with my Peace Corps service! Woot woot. It's funny - two songs keep popping into my head whenever I think about having been in Mali for a year: 1) Living on a Prayer, Bon Jovi "Ohhhhhhhhh! We're halfway there!" and 2) Seasons of Love from RENT "How do you measure, measure a year? Measure in love."

When I think about the past year of my life, especially given that I was home in May and will be going home again in September for a friend's wedding (shout-out to Sam and Nate!), I often think about how to explain my new life. In May, it was really hard to continually explain what I do to people that don't even know where Mali is. I feel like I'm two people: America Jen and Mali Aissata (Aissata is my Malian name). I changed my course drastically a year ago, and now everything that is normal to me in Mali was completely abnormal in America. I have changed everything about myself: my clothes, hair, language, home, worldview, living situation, continent, daily schedule, and live in a different reality than I did before. How can those two worlds possibly merge? Will I always be some sort of bipolar oddity?

It's funny, when people ask me what I've been doing with Peace Corps for the past year - and they expect a 5-second American-style answer - it is impossible. How can I explain that I don't work in an office 9 to 5 but I do work 24 hours a day? I have done a great deal of work but it's not tangible. I have done very few things that are measurable by American standards. How can I explain this? What have I done?

I have spoken four different languages in one sentence and was understood. I have lived in a house with no electricity or running water and bathed in buckets; pulled drinking water from a well and taken a push cart 5k to plant seeds. I have learned to meditate and do yoga on roof tops. I have watched cattle stampedes and bartered in markets. I have seen things most people have not. I have seen camels and monkeys; fires and chaos; been lost in a city made of mud and stood atop a 1000 foot cliff. I have made friends and found a new family in an African village of 400 people. I have seen thousand year old masks and learned how to make new ones. I have seen women spend their entire days trying to survive: pounding millet, drawing water, cooking, bathing children, growing food. I have taught new ways to plant trees, explained basic nutrition, and learned how to pluck a chicken. I have seen children die and accidents happen. I have experienced losses and achievements and tried to take them in stride. I have hit people and been ashamed of myself. I have created a way for my village to have vegetables, and taught skills in project design, budgeting, and management, and along the way made ever so many mistakes. I have sweated through 110 degree nights and biked through 120 degree days. I have seen slave ports and oceans, rivers, lakes, and sand that seemed to go on forever. I have climbed mountains, eaten sheep organs, stepped on mice and killed scorpions, seen spiders the size of my hand and taken transportation with a goat for a seatmate. I have eaten the best mangos in the world, and lived off a handful of rice for dinner.

I feel as though I have accomplished more this year than ever before but I know that is not true. And it's back to Seasons of Love: How can I measure what is possible in a year's time? I am constantly asking myself: is this worth staying for? Is this worth giving up my family and friends for 2 years? And now, a year later, I realize that it is. Because the past year, and all the years before it, have been measured in love. And the love in my life has only increased since I came to Mali. Yes, there are days where this feels like my personal hell, but those itty bitty moments where something wonderful happens - that is love, and that makes it worth it. But how do you explain that in 5 seconds? I guess you don't.

Women's Rights? They Exist?

Oh, to be a feminist in a village where blatant sexism is both allowed and encouraged. For the past year I've been in Mali, I have kept most of my feminist views under cover. After all, this is not my culture. I'm here to learn, not impose my personal ideals. I don't know if it's because I just got back from the US (which albeit still does have many gender issues, although compared to Mali it's a dreamland) or what, but lately I've been more frustrated than ever over the treatment of the women in my village. Let me give you a couple examples:

The first was what I dubbed for lack of a better term Sassolo Day. This is a day-long celebration of the founding of my village. I was excited to go to it - I was told that there is a big dance party, and I do like to dance. My neighbor Samba told me to make sure to bring my camera, because he wanted a picture of himself with the other old, 'wise,' men in the village. The day came, and I walked out to the celebration site with a friend of mine. All the men and boys were gathered under one tree, while all the women were gathered under another tree about 30 yards away. I noticed the gender separation, but decided to pull the white woman card. I should explain that white women are the third gender in Mali. I can get away with a lot of stuff that Malian women cannot, and by that same token I am frequently treated with less respect by Malian young men (their only exposure to white women is usually from some trashy soap opera, and those rarely portray strong, educated women). So I walk over to the men's tree, all confident in my white woman-ness, when all of a sudden they start YELLING at me to stop. I do so immediately (is there a snake around?) and my friend Diampulo walks up. "Why can't I come closer," I asked. "Samba wanted me to take pictures of the men." Response: "You're a woman. You can't do that." Wrong button to push, mister. If I was in America, I would have said something along the lines of "How dare you tell me I can't do something just because I am a woman! I am strong, educated, and empowered. I will do whatever I want, whenever I want, and I have a history of strong women behind me: women who fought for the right to own property and the right to vote; women who smashed the glass ceiling of corporate America to pieces; women who advocated for women's health, birth control, and family planning; women who fought to control their own lives and now do so fabulously. Take that you sexist, chauvinistic, pathetic excuse for a person." However, I was not in America. I was in Mali. I was an outsider observing this traditional ritual. So I didn't say anything. I returned to the women's tree, seething inside. Every day these women are told implicitly and sometimes explicitly that they can't do things because they are women. No reason other than that. After the men danced around and shot off their guns (feel like a man now? you put down women and shot off a gun, congratulations), they all headed off into the bush to discuss the village's plans for the next year. Dreading the answer, I asked my host mom why women did not go. Response: We are women. We can't go. "Why not?" Because that is tradition. We are women. We can't go.

The next night, several problems involving the garden project came bubbling up to the surface. My host mom, Coumbare, is the president of the women's association. She had told all the women that they would have a garden and a well. Now, the men in the village refuse to finish building the well. Why? Because they found out that they won't be paid. Keep in mind, that from the beginning the men understood that they would not get paid because the well and labor is part of the community contribution. Now, at the hungriest time of the year, they are refusing to work unless they get money to feed their families. The ethics of it are horribly complicated -- would you refuse to do work unless you got paid, knowing that the work would bring desperately needed money to feed your family, while at the same time knowing that you are going back on your word by refusing to work? Well now all the women are blaming Coumbare for the well not being finished, when it is not her fault at all. The men, two especially, have been lying to her for day after day, saying it will be finished when it obviously won't be. She told me that the two men had also recently told her she had to stop being part of the regional women's association because they did not like her being so involved. She was so upset - "Aissata, I didn't steal any money. I did my job well. I planted all the trees, I helped with their garden, I brought in new money, I helped with women's projects. Why do they not want me involved? I'm a good person. I want to help myself and other women like me have a better life. Why is that bad?" Without me saying anything, she answered her own question: "They are men. They do not like a woman being involved." I asked her if she was still involved, and she said no, "Those men are the leaders of my village. I have to live here. I can't go against them."

Those two men now refuse to help the women finish their garden - a garden that the women will do all the work in, and then their families - including the men - will benefit from increased nutrition and a permanent food source. The women will do all the work in the long-term, the men will benefit. Where is the men's logic in this? Furthermore, the men are now saying that the garden supplies - a wheelbarrow, two shovels, two buckets, etc - belong to the men, not the women. They refuse to give the supplies back.

I do not understand. Maybe I will never understand. All I know is that if they knew what kind of woman they were dealing with they never would have tried to ruin the project in the first place. Because now I'm angry, and I will not stop until the well is finished, the project supplies are back in the hands of the women, and the women are able to plant their garden. Watch out, Sassolo.

Shopping Time!

So I wrote this journal entry back in the first week of May, but thought it would shed some light on the process of doing my project. So, voila!

The past two weeks have been spent buying project supplies for our community garden. I went down to Bamako (yay cheeseburgers and air conditioning!) to buy the fencing because it's cheaper there. I went with my friend Eliza - she is also doing a garden project at her site. Once there, I got my project money from Peace Corps out of the bank (every walked around the capital of a developing country with $2000 in your pocket? yikes!) and met up with Samba, a guy from my village who has a second wife in Bamako. We went together to the Marche Dibida, a huge market that is basically chaos central. Samba talked to a couple people he knew and then told me that only bad fence was sold there. Soooo we took a cab out to Samba's neighborhood and met up with a friend of his who took us to a 'good' fence-seller. The following two hours were a horrific and headache-inducing blend of French, Fulfulde, and Bambara. I speak French, pretend to speak good Fulfulde, and only know how to greet, bargain, and give directions to a cab driver in Bambara (I have to know enough Bambara to get around because the language I speak at site, Fulfulde, is a minority language. Most of Mali speaks Bambara.) It was a mess. But eventually we bought the fence - yay! After, the fence salesman and Samba got in a car and told me to get in too. I ask where we're going in French, Fulfulde, and Bambara. No response. Now I trust Samba, so I wasn't too freaked out, but after an hour of driving I got a little concerned. Eventually we stop - the salesman had driven us out to his garden in a village outside of Bamako to teach Samba the basics of how to build the fence. Which was sweet, but it would have been nice if they had explained. After we got back, I was super stressed about the whole day so I went to eat a chicken sandwich at a lovely establishment called West African Fried Chicken (not kidding. It's a chain based in Ghana) followed by some soft serve ice cream at a machine located right beside an open sewer. While eating the ice cream on my walk back to the PC house (and ignoring the smell of raw sewage) it dawned on me: after months of feeling like I wasn't doing anything, I finally did something productive! Good day. :)

Gotta start somewhere...

From the BBC: (to see story on BBC, click here)

Brain Gain: African migrants returning home

Africa may still be suffering from a chronic brain drain but some of the continent's elite are turning their backs on the West and taking their talents back home according to film-maker Andy Jones.

Ghana's fashion industry has lured some African professionals home

The story is as old as the hills. Man leaves village to seek riches in the big city.

In recent years, the village has been the continent of Africa, the city represented by the bright lights of Europe and America.

Any number of Africans seek to cross the ocean and make their fortunes, never to be seen again.

But when our team travelled around Africa recently to film a new TV documentary series, we found a different story. Many of the Africans I met had worked or been educated in the West and come back.

Across nine African countries and a journey of 7,000 miles from Mali to South Africa, from Ghana to Ethiopia, the story was often the same. Africans were returning from working or studying abroad either for patriotic reasons or because of the growing opportunities back home.

Fashion industry

These were educated Africans like Kofi Ansah, a Ghanaian fashion designer. Born into an artistic family, he studied fashion at Chelsea School of Art before graduating with first class honours in 1977. He spent 20 years living and working in Europe before returning to Ghana in 1992.

Mr Ansah still travels the world, and could live anywhere, but his business is growing, his family are settled and he feels like he's making a difference in Accra. "I came to help try to develop the clothing textile industry. And I thought, if we could do it right, it could help our employment situation."

Younger people want to go away maybe to university, but then come back after gaining some experience.

Mr Ansah now creates jobs for tailors and designers, models and marketers.

At one of his fashion shows, we met make-up artist Nana Amu Fleisher-Djoleto who grew up in London. Her view is that not only are more people returning, but they are coming home sooner.

"I'm finding now that younger people want to go away maybe to university, but then come back after gaining some experience. They're not working for years and coming back when they're decrepit."

Global mobility

For decades, African leaders have complained of a brain drain, losing many of their brightest and best to Western countries keen to attract highly skilled migrants.

This brain drain cannot be stopped or reversed according to Jean Phillipe Chauzy at the International Organisation for Migration (IOM). But he sees other factors at play in Africa's favour.

"The fundamental difference is new technology allowing African professionals in the West to transfer their skills and do some teaching," says Mr Chauzy.

It is a relatively new trend with digital technology allowing African academics and other professionals abroad to support African universities, schools or individuals back home to bridge the skills gap with the West.

He also sees "a pattern of mobility for people with skills" with greater global mobility allowing "countries which have the right conditions" to attract skilled professionals home either temporarily or permanently.

A recent IOM report on Ghana highlighted its "relative peace, security and political stability" and found "growing incidence of return or circular migration".

"Of the more than 1.1 million Ghanaians who left the country between 2000-2007, only 153,000 did not return either temporarily or permanently."

Commodity Exchange

For many returnees including former World Bank senior economist Eleni Gabre-Madhin, loyalty and the desire to give something back is an important motivation for returning.

Inside Ethiopia's commodities exchange

Her brainchild is the Ethiopian Commodity Exchange, which began trading in 2008 and which she hopes will make a difference to the lives of millions of farmers.

"I'd spent years doing analysis and writing, but then the food crisis hit in 2003, and it made me think, OK we're talking about things, but we're not doing anything."

The new exchange, owned by the Ethiopian government and supported by the World Bank, trades in six commodities including coffee, produced by around 12 million small-scale farmers in Ethiopia.

While deals are still sealed with a traditional slap of hands, cutting edge technology ensures that all transactions are logged on computers within four seconds, with prices transmitted across the country by radio and around the world via the internet.

The farmers benefit by being guaranteed a good international market price, preventing exploitation by middlemen and they get paid within 24 hours.

The first two years have seen over $400m (£274m) worth of produce traded and despite a number of teething problems, the exchange looks set to prosper, with nearby countries such as Tanzania and Uganda now considering similar schemes.

Ms Gabre-Madhin acknowledges there have been problems but she would like to see more people joining her in making solutions work, rather than sniping from overseas.

The African brain drain with emigration outstripping immigration may be destined to continue but for those countries which can offer the security and political stability, there is a growing dividend from those who feel they owe something to their former home.

Life Update Time!

I'm aware I haven't been the best at updating this - with the infrequent internet access I do have, there is rarely time to write out an entire blog entry. In the past couple months, I led my first formation with some other PCVs and also received funding for my first project!

The formation I did with my friends Katie, Emily, and Ali came about through the Gender and Development (GAD) committee of Peace Corps Mali (on which I am my region's representative). One volunteer had the great idea of staging a 3-day long Take Our Daughters to Work Day retreat for girls in her region. The girls shadowed professional women for a day, did some fun educational games, learned skills to help them in the future, and were paired with a professional woman as a mentor. GAD helped to spread the idea to other volunteers in Mali, and soon a couple of us up in Mopti wanted to give it a try. There was one problem: we are farther out from Bamako, and thus don't have the same resources the volunteers down there have. We decided to switch it up a bit, and called it Bring Work to Our Daughters Day. Girls from Fatoma/Sassolo (my and Ali's villages), Sevare (Katie's village), and Konna (Em's village) all came to Konna for a one-day formation. We brought in professional working women from Konna and Fatoma as well. In the morning, we played some ice-breaker games and the women led a panel discussion about the importance of education and women in development. We then had lunch, followed by an afternoon of really productive group work. We put the girls and women into groups, and gave them questions to discuss, among them: What are the educational problems in Mali? How are girls treated differently from boys in school? How can we fix these gender disparities in our communities? What sustainable strategies can we start to work on? The girls gave some great answers and were really motivated to start working on educational issues in their communities -- and hopefully will continue on to high school next fall!

As for my community garden project, I finally succeeded in buying all the materials needed with the help of my neighbor, Samba, and host mom, Kumbari. Whew! It was quite the exhausting process, what with all the bargaining in three different languages at the same time (French, Fulfulde, and Bambara). Unfortunately I had to leave for the States the day before the fence was going to start being built. I really hope that my village went ahead and started - I had to leave the key to my house with them so they could have access to the materials (yes, I currently have one hectare of fencing, 10 sacks of cement, a wheelbarrow, some shovels, and 50 iron fenceposts in my house. My village decided my house was the best place for storage because I have room and I won't steal the materials. There's not a lot of breathing room). They were also going to start digging the well the day after I left. I'm incredibly nervous that it's not happening - if the well does not get built before the rains come in June/July, then it can't be build until next February because the water table will rise during rainy season. Of course my village realizes this too, it's just that they are working on many other projects right now, chief among them home repair, and my role is to kind of gently prod them along into working on this one. I'm sure it will all work out in the end though!

Islam, or, Prejudice in America

This is my first blog post for a long time made state-side. I came home for my grandfather's funeral, and will be in the States for the next week and a half. I heard he died around 8am a week ago in my village in Mali, and what followed was a blur of biking 15k, speeding to the airport 7 hours away in Bamako, walking onto a flight as the doors were closing, navigating a fire in Atlanta, and finally making it to Orlando where I met my dad at the airport. Though it was a really sad reason to come home, I have nevertheless been grateful to spend time with family and friends. Luckily (is luckily the right word?) I escaped most culture shock because of the shock of my grandpa's death. However, I have still noticed the vast cultural differences between Mali and America - how can anyone help it?

One of the most striking changes in America since I left is the overall increase in prejudice against those of Islamic faith. Perhaps it was always like this, particularly since September 11th, and I just noticed since now all of my close Malian friends and Malian host family are Muslim. I've watched the news a couple times since I've been back (the political spin on both sides of the aisle is a little overwhelming) and both conservative and liberal news networks throw the word Muslim around like a swear word. A friend of mine was shocked that President Obama had appointed three Muslims to government positions (the horror!). It has been hard to witness this prejudice, as I know so many Muslims that love America and wish with all their hearts to become American.

So to those of you who may harbor negative feelings towards Muslims - and here I am talking about the vast majority of Muslims who are peaceful, serve God, and love their neighbors of any faith - I ask, have you ever explained the events of September 11th to a Muslim who has not heard of it before? Have you ever heard the horror, outrage, and anger that he or she expresses upon hearing of 9/11 for the first time? Have you ever heard apologies from Muslims for acts they did not commit nor would ever dream of committing? Have you ever heard you, your family, and the American people blessed to heaven and back by a Muslim friend in the hopes that a horrific event like 9/11 would never again be repeated on American soil? Because all the Muslims that I count as friends and family have done all of those things upon hearing about 9/11. Granted they are all Malian, and had not heard of 9/11 before. But I think that just further emphasizes the idea that most Muslims would never even think of committing such horrendous acts. How can Americans stereotype the second largest religion in the world because of the actions of just a few, radical, and horrible people? How can that happen? And what does American society stand to lose because of such stereotyping and prejudice?

I am incredibly offended by the America I witness today. I want to give up and not claim it as my own. But that would be the wrong reaction. The right action is to be strong. To fight for the rights guaranteed by our Constitution for all citizens. I am proud to be an American citizen, and deeply love the democratic ideals of America. I want to fight for a better America, for an America that preaches love for one another first and respect for each others ideas second, however different in nature they may be.

So how about we all stop the hate and respect each others' religion and beliefs. Deal?

Islam in a Nutshell

This is taken from my study of Islam in theology courses at Xavier, as well as my general observation about the culture in which I now live. For more information check out www.religioustolerance.org or wikipedia.

Islam is a monotheistic faith (that means they believe in one god). Islam literally means 'to accept, surrender, or submit,' thus a Muslim is a person who submits his/herself to the will of God. God is called Allah, which is Arabic for God. Interesting point - Christians in Muslim countries also call God by Allah. The main book of faith for Muslims is The Qur'an. Muslims believe that Allah revealed his final message to humans through his last prophet Muhammad by way of the angel Gabriel. Islam considers prophets to be people whom Allah selected to be his messengers. Hence, the prophets are human rather than divine. Other prophets mentioned in the Qur'an include Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Jesus. Muslims do not consider Jesus as the Son of God, though they do highly respect him as the second-last prophet. The mosque is the Muslim place of worship. There are many sects of Islam, though two main ones are Sunni and Shi'a.

The famous mud mosque in Djenne, Mali.

In Mali, most Muslims are Sunni and Sufi. Malian Muslims converted to Islam when Muslim traders came through Timbuktu around the 1300s. 90% of Mali is Muslim; 5% Christian; 5% Animist. Malian Islam is very moderate, tolerant, and adapted to the local lifestyle and customs. For examples, most women wear African fabric head wraps once they are married, but very few wear the veil or burqa. If women don't cover their head it is not a big deal. Polygamy is practiced in Mali. In Islam, a man can have up to four wives if he is able to provide for each of them and treat them equally (some would argue that it is never possible to do that). Polygamy is currently somewhat controversial in Mali - most women do not like it, some men do not agree with it.

There are five main pillars of faith in Islam:

1. Shahadah: the creed of Islam which states in Arabic: 'I testify that there is none worthy of worship except God and Muhammad is the messenger of God. One repeats this phrase during prayer.

2. Salah: The ritual prayer which one prays five times a day. One washes oneself, then prays on a mat facing Mecca. In Mali, the prayer call is sounded via loudspeaker from the local mosque. The prayer caller says Allah akbar! which means God is great!

3. Zakat: alms-giving. Giving is based on accumulated wealth and is obligatory for all Muslims who can afford to give.

4. Sawm: fasting during the month of Ramadan. From dawn until dusk, Muslims do not eat during Ramadan. The dates for Ramadan differ each year because Islam is based on the lunat calendar. In Mali, people wake up very early in the morning to eat a large meal, fast during the day, and then have special food for dinner after dark. Break out the beans and macaroni after sunset!

5. Hajj: the pilgrimage to Mecca. Every Muslim who can afford to go to Mecca is obligated to do so once during his/her lifetime.

Some Sunni Muslims call jihad the sixth pillar of ISlam, though most Muslims refer to jihad, which means struggle, as the struggle to attain spiritual perfection rather than religious warfare. Military jihad is highly debated within the Islamic community. In Mali, jihad refers to one's personal religious faith.

I realize this is very simplified, but it's a beginning at any rate!

The art of making art is putting it together

Hello friends!

I know it's been a while since I last blogged, but nothing much was happening for about a month aside from it being really ridiculously hot. It is 110 degrees every single day now. I have dreams about drinking cold water. Sandstorms happen constantly. Everything I own is covered in probably an inch of dust. I sleep outside at night and wake up everything morning coated in dust. Lovely weather!

I had regional training a couple weeks ago, which I helped to plan along with another PCV. It went well, but it was very frustrating at the same time. I did learn how to dry fruit by making my own solar dryer and how to make a solar oven though! So that was exciting at least. After regional training, I went back to site for a week, then headed to Bamako to work on my community garden project proposal. I turned it in (finally!!!) and a week later I got the call from my supervisor that the project was approved! So inshallah in a week I will recieve the funding for the garden from Peace Corps!

I held a meeting yesterday with the women's association to finalize timelines and such, and they were so excited to hear that the project was approved. When I told them, they all started applauding! It felt like I had actually accomplished something. It's a nice feeling after 9 months of being here. So we've been working on determining who will help build the fence, when the well be dug, and all of those sorts of things. The best part of the meeting (aside from the general feeling of excitment since the project was approved) was that when I was finished with my schpeal and questions, one lady said, "You really do speak Fulfulde now!" And while I had spent an hour the day before writing out my script and agenda for the meeting, so it was anything but spontaneous talking, I was also answering questions spontaneously and creating new ones. It just meant a lot to hear that people in my village think that I'm improving. So little by little, the project is getting put together. Piece by piece. What I've learned so far is that things move very slowly in Mali, and so I'm taking it slow in the hopes that this project will get done correctly and in a sustainable manner. If all goes according to plan (and I'm expecting it not to) the fence and well will both be built by the end of May, just in time for farmers to begin planting! Keep your fingers crossed... :)

Ada naama neebe!

(the blog title means "you eat beans" in Fulfulde)

One of the most interesting parts of Mali is how they resolve conflicts and joke with each other. A lot of ethnic tension is mediated through joking cousins. These relationships are based on last names and ethnic groups. For example, the Bambara and the Fulfulde ethnic groups joke with each other as a way to avoid open conflict. Here's the history behind it: After the historic battle of Kirina of 1236 that settled the victory for Sundiata Keita, King of the Mali Empire, a national convention was called to lay out the founding principles of how Malian society would be organized. The joking cousin relationship existed before Sundiata was even born. However, he was the first leader to make it a social institution, hence giving it full powers in Malian communities.

According to oral tradition passed down through griots (village storytellers), once upon a time, two friends went into the bush to collect wood. One of the two buddies got scared by an animal. Back into the village, the one who got scared tried to make everyone believe it was he who had been brave. Soon they were giving each other a hard time. That's how the joking started and eventually turned into a medium whose goal has since been to help ease the relationship between two people at work, in the neighborhood, or within the entire community. In other words, the joking cousin relationship (called senenkuya) is used both as a game and as a social tool aiming to prevent potential conflicts that my arise from various frustrations or misunderstandings.

It turns out that senenkuya (joking cousins) has become one of the most important features of Malian culture thanks to King Sundiata's vision to broaden the scope of that relationship. Finally, the reason why Keitas tend to have the most joking cousins lies in the fact that King Sundiata Keita declared that to become a better leader, one ought to take criticism from everyone else.

You can say anything to your joking cousins. My last name is Dembele, which is a Bobo ethnic group last name. The Bobos joke with the Fulfulde. The main joke between the two of us is the Fulfulde tell the Bobo that they eat dogs. In turn, the Bobos tell the Fulfulde that they stole our cows. This comes from the fact that in Fulfulde, cows say "bobo" instead of "moo." So the cows are always calling the Bobos to come and bring them back to their rightful owners. The most common thing to say to your joking cousins is, "You eat beans!" This is the equivalent of a Malian fart joke. But it is absolutely HILARIOUS, and has been told for centuries.

After greeting a new person, you usually ask their last name. Then you begin joking. A typical encounter might go like this:
Me: Good morning, how are you?
Malian: I am fine, how are you?
Me: No problems at all here. Did you arrive in peace?
Malian: Yes, no problems.
Me: How is your family?
Malian: Everyone is fine.
Me: Did you spend the night in peace?
Malian: Yes, no problems.
Me: What is your name?
Malian: Moussa
Me: What is your last name?
Malian: Diko.
Me: Oh!! You stole my cows!
Malian: You eat dogs!
Me: Yeah, well at least I don't eat beans for every meal.
(and it goes on from here...)

And that is the height of Malian humor! It is a lot of fun to joke with people, and it provides a good way to show people that you understand their culture and speak their language.

*Parts of this blog were taken from the PC Mali Cross Culture Manual, as told by Aliou DIABATE

First Formation! (67 photos), by Jenny Rulon

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Dogon Country

Here's a link to an article that recently appeared in the NYT about Dogon Country - the area of Mali that most tourists go to. I live about 2 hours away from the Dogon cliffs.

http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/03/07/travel/07personal.html

Allah akbar!

This song is really popular in Mali right now - everyone in my village goes around singing it, and it's always on the radio. It's about how great Allah (God) is and how good it is to praise Allah.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8SGpI47_qA&feature=related

Naming Ceremony

A couple days ago I went to the naming ceremony of a friend's baby boy. Naming ceremonies are very important in Malian culture, and are similar to a baptism in that the baby is welcomed into the village family and religious community. The baby is also given a name (obviously, ha).

Naming ceremonies take place very early in the morning, so that morning I woke up at 5:30am and hurridly got dressed in my finest bezan outfit. Bezan is a really nice waxy fabric that is like a Malian gown or suit. Mine makes me feel like a princess because it's the same color as Cinderella's ballgown. Anyway, my host sister, Malado, came and got me and my host mom and I made our way to our friend's house for the ceremony.

We got to the concession and removed our shoes to enter the house. All the men were sitting outside the house on mats, and all the women were inside the house preparing the baby for the ceremony. The entire ceremony was gender segregated, with men outside and women inside. My host mom and I got there just in time for me to help hold the baby while his head was shaved by his grandfather. After the shaving was finished, the baby was passed around the room, with all the women joking, laughing, and chatting. Most of the conversation was centered on why I don't have the lip tattoo and facial scarring that all good Fulfulde women have.

When the baby had been passed around, the room fell silent as the men began to lead the prayer in Arabic. Everyone lifted their hands, going through the motions of prayer for this occassion. At first I didn't participate - while Christians are generally okay with people not of their faith praying with them, Muslims have stricter rules. For example, it would be incredibly inappropriate of me to enter the mosque, especially at prayer time. Even to observe would be offensive. But then the woman beside me grabbed my hand and said "You're one of us, pray with us," and made me start the prayer motions too. That meant a lot.

After the men had finished saying the blessing, they passed a small, circular straw mat. On it were the mother's wedding ring, a kola nut to represent the father, and the baby's hair which had just been shaved. Everyone touched it, said a prayer while holding it, and then passed it on. It was such a nice way to symbolize that the entire village would welcome and care for this child and his family. After that was finished, all the guests received three kola nuts and a piece of candy.

The baby's name? Ali, named after his grandfather.

It really meant a lot to be invited to the ceremony and allowed to participate - it made me feel like I really am a part of this community, despite the innumberable cultural and lingusitic differences. Day by day, dooni dooni, things are coming together.

Afterwards, I explained to my host family how American / Christian baptisms differ from Malian / Muslim naming ceremonies. I told her that in America, the baby is put in a bucket of water (font doesn't really translate) and then a religious man puts oil on the baby's head. My host mom was confused about the oil - "But you cook with oil, why would you put it on a baby?" Good question, good question. It also didn't help that in Fulfulde the word for fire and candle are the same, so when I said that they light a candle for the baby she probably was imagining a huge bonfire or something. Oh language mistranslations, how I love thee.

Questions

I've been corresponding with a sixth-grade class in Arcadia as part of the World Wise Schools program of Peace Corps. They recently sent me a bunch of AWESOME letters with some great questions, and I thought other people might be interested in the letters too:

• What is your favorite part of Mali? My favorite part of Mali is the conversations I have with my Malian friends. Malians are incredibly welcoming and love to joke around. You can see on my blog an example of a conversation I had with my host mom about the US space program. Conversations like that where I get to share US culture and joke around with friends are my favorite!
• Would you want to live in Mali permanently? No, but not because I don't like it here. Mali is a great country, I would just prefer to live in America closer to my family and friends for the rest of my career and travel to places like Mali for vacation.
• What do you do in your spare time? Read, read, read, and read some more! I also go around and chat with my neighbors, write lots of letters, and dance crazily around my hut to music from my iPod (I charge my iPod with a solar charger).
• Is Mali fun, or are you praying to come back? I definitely have my good days and bad days, but overall I'm very glad that I came to Mali and am enjoying my time here. I'm very excited to come home for 3 weeks in September though!
• Is there fast food? In terms of McDonalds or Taco Bell, not at all. Malians don't eat out like Americans do. Eating out is actually seen as a bad thing, because it means that you can't feed your family at home. There is street food, though. Women sell food by the side of the road out of huge metal bowls. There is usually macaroni, beans, rice and sauce, fries, and some kind of meat to choose from.
• How many books have you read? A lot! I'm not actually sure, but there is a list on my blog that has all the books I've read so far.
• What kinds of animals are there in Mali? There used to be a lot of wildlife in Mali, like lions, elephants, and antelope. Unfortunately most of that wildlife was killed due to over-hunting and poaching. Today there are two herds of elephants left, and I've heard rumors that you can see a lion or two in western Mali. Other than that, there are a lot of farm animals that Malians raise, like cows, donkeys, sheep, goats, and chickens. There are no pigs because most Malians are Muslim and cannot eat pork.
• What diseases are there in Mali? Quite a few. Someone asked me specifically how I could get sick from amoebas, and I should explain that I was actually sick with amoebic dysentary. You get this disease from drinking unclean water. I'm much healthier now though! In general, diseases caused by poor quality drinking water are common here. Also, malaria, TB, and diseases caused by poor nutrition are big problems.
• What language do you speak? I speak Fulfulde. Fulfulde is spoken throughout West Africa, and is called Pular in Senegal and Fula in Guinea. It has been a challenge to rapidly learn a new language, but I'm very glad that I did. It lets me talk with more people, especially the women in children. It also shows that I'm dedicated to learning about Malian culture and people. And it's a very fun language to speak! There are at least 50 different words for cow, but only one word for to want/to like/to love! I think that says a lot about the Fulfulde culture, don't you? I speak French at the organization I work with because my supervisor there prefers to speak in French.
• Do you get paid? I am a volunteer, but I do get a living allowance from Peace Corps (about $5 a day). This money pays for food, clothing, everything. All my healthcare is covered by Peace Corps.
• How much is $1 in Malian currency? Mali uses the CFA, a currency used throughout West Africa. $1 is equal to about 450 CFA.
• Is the Malian government corrupt? Wow, hard question. I would say that most government officials are not corrupt and have the people's best interest at heart. There are cases of government officials taking money though. For example, 25% of the Malian budget is supposed to go to education. Does it get there? Judging by the poor quality of the public school system, I lean towards no. I think that Mali is one of the better examples of good government in Africa, but it still has its problems.
• What is the weather like in Mali? Right now it is HOT!!! It was 110 degrees yesterday, and it will only get hotter in the next few months. There are four seasons in Mali: rainy season, mini-hot season, cold season, and hot season. In cold season temperatures get down to the 70s. There are huge rain storms during rainy season with thunder, lightening, and a lot of dust that gets blown around. There are also sandstorms and dust storms which take place during hot season - now. Everything I have is currently covered in a nice sheen of orange dust. Rainy season will come in July, followed by mini-hot season in October, cold season in November, and then back to hot season in March.
• Do you have electricity? Like the majority of Malians, I do not have electricity. I use a flashlight at night to see and to read before bed. I've come to enjoy not having electricity though - the view of the stars at night is phenomenal!
• What is your house like? I live in a mud brick house that has 3 rooms. I have an outdoor latrine bathroom (called a nyegen). I have concrete floors, a metal door, and a screen door, and all my windows are screened. All the walls and the ceiling are made from wood logs and mud.
• What do Malians wear? Malians are very conservative people. The women wear long wrap-around skirts called pagnes and a shirt made out of the same fabric. Men wear pants and a collared shirt. Wearing proper dress and looking nice are very important in Malian culture. If you wear dirty or ragged clothing, it is a sign of disrespect to those around you. Malian fabric is awesome! So many fun colors and prints! I have a pair of capris that are neon green and polka-dotted. I love that I can wear them here and be normal.
• Do you have any Malian friends? Yes, I do! My host mom and I have become good friends, and I'm also friends with my homologue. (A homologue is someone assigned to help me to do my work by Peace Corps - usually a Malian living in your village that is motivated to do development work.) I spend a lot of my time hanging out with my host family, and when I'm not with them I'm hanging out with the kids who come to my house to play.
• Are people nice? Yes!!! Incredibly nice!! I think that Malians are among the most welcoming people in the world.
• How poor are people? Do they have a lot of stuff? Mali is the third poorest country in the world, so yes, the people are poor. The majority of Malians don't have access to clean drinking water, electricity, healthcare, a year-round food source, and good education. They do have a small amount of possessions - my host mom has an entire collection of pots and pans that she displays in her house. They wear jewelry and have nice clothes, and will have tea absolutely every day. They don't have a lot of stuff by American standards, but they are getting by.

I hope this let you understand Mali a little better, and if anyone else has other questions about life here, feel free to comment or send me an email!

Senegal, by Jenny Rulon

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From a Garden to the Moon

Wow, so much has happened in the past month! I have not one, but FOUR projects I'm currently working on!! Absolute craziness! Here's a brief synopsis of the projects:

1) Starting a community garden with my village's women's association - this involves applying for Peace Corps funding for a metal fence, cemented well, and seeds. A brief note on the funding - I'm applying for funding through the Small Project Assistance (SPA) program. It provides funding to small Peace Corps projects through a partnership with the US Agency for International Development (US AID). Since the community garden is a food security issue - it helps the people in my village have access to healthy food year-round - my project is incredibly likely to be funded, as PC and US AID are targeting food security, specifically in Mali. The women's association is SO excited about this - every day I get questions and reminders that there needs to be a fence. We can't have cows eating our veggies!

2) Helping the women's association of Planete Verte develop income generating activities (IGAs). My homologue, Adama, came back from IST very excited about making natural insect repellant and soap with the women's association. We've been doing some test runs, and after she finishes up the budget and project plan, we're going to apply for SPA funding for the start-up costs of producing the cream and soap on a larger scale. The women will use the funds to help their families as they see fit - food, education, etc. Pics are up on facebook of our formations on how to make the insect repellant (called neem cream).

3) Creating a facebook page for Planete Verte to let more tourists know of our tree-planting project. Watch for us on facebook soon, I'll be sending friend invites to most of you!

4) I'm doing a joint project with PCVs in Konna, Fatoma, and Sevare. We are doing a "Bring Work to Our Daughters Day" - a twist on "Bring Your Daughter to Work Day." We are bringing professional women from Konna, Fatoma, Sassolo, and Sevare to Konna for a one-day formation. They will speak to a group of girls from each of those villages, talking a bit about the importance of education, how they came to work outside the home (it's REALLY hard to do in Mali. I know it's hard in America, but imagine having 8 kids and no labor-saving appliances), how they balance family and work, how their husbands feel about their work, etc. I'm really excited to hear what they have to say. After lunch, the girls and women will break into small groups, where the girls will be paired with a mentor from their respective villages. Two weeks after the event, the PCVs will facilitate meetings between the mentors and the girls in each village. Tentative date is March 14 (don't worry Sam, I won't forget your birthday haha), so super excited.

So right now I am very busy trying to get everything put together. Things move very slowly in Mali, but I'm trying to write the grant applications and figure out the funding issues in a somewhat timely manner. We'll see how it all goes down.

And now for a slightly humorous story - Last night I was watching TV with my host family (it runs off a car battery). There is one channel in Mali, so we were watching an American science documentary from the 1990s dubbed in French. No one in my host family speaks French, so it fell to me to translate it into Fufulde. Guess what it was about? The international space station and the moon landing. Now I've studied Fufulde for six months, so that alone made it difficult - but words for things like space, gravity, satellites, and astronauts don't exist in the language! Not to mention that many Malians are unaware that space as Americans know it exists, or that people have walked on the moon. Every once in a while it still shocks me that things Americans learn in first grade - the solar system, the moon landing - are unknown by adults here. Through no fault of their own, they just haven't had access to that information. Anyway, the convo between me and my host mom, Kumbari, is pretty hilarious, mostly because of my horrible Fufulde:

Kumbari: (sees space shuttle blasting off, followed by it going into orbit) What's that?
Me: Oookay. American people in airplane go to moon. The live there 2 days. They come back to America.
Kumbari: (pause) What?? In an airplane?
Me: Yes. On moon, they study moon and stars.
Kumbari: They study? They leave like that (TV is showing blast-off again)? But you came to Mali in an airplane!
Me: Yes, I did. Airplane moon and airplane Africa, not the same. Airplane moon is very big and needs a lot of fire and oil. Airplane Africa is small.
Kumbari: (Looks very relieved that I didn't have to wear an astronaut outfit to come to Africa) Ohhh. I understand. Crazy Americans, they go to the moon. (TV shows Mars rover thing) What's that?
Me: A machine. Like a computer. Machine goes to moon, no people. Machine studies. Machine writes. Machine comes back to America. American people look at machine. Now, they now moon and study moon. You understand?
Kumbari: (incredibly shocked) I understand, but a machine can read and write?? I want an American machine like that? (she is illiterate)
Me: I want a machine to speak Fulfulde! (cue canned sitcom laughter) *side note: in Mali, the corniest jokes are absolutely hilarious. People in my village will be repeating that line for the next 3 months at least.

Kumbari then explained what I said to her kids, who all just started laughing, totally convinced I had made it up. If you think about it, it is kind of crazy that we can go to the moon. Incredible. I just wish there were words in Fulfulde for stuff like that so I could more logically explain what it is. Later they showed astronauts floating in space. Kumbari's going to be talking about that for weeks - "Americans float!"