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!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
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."
"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."
Thursday, October 21, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
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! :)
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! :)
Thursday, August 26, 2010
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!
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!
Friday, July 23, 2010
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!
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!
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