Visitors

Having my parents here for a week was so good in so many ways. There are the obvious reasons of course; I missed them and enjoyed spending time with them. But having them here also opened my eyes to how much I like being Mali. Introducing my parents to the different people I am surrounded by daily gave me renewed appreciation for them and the ways that they look out for me.

Spending time with my host family in my village has always been fun for me. I have always enjoyed talking to my host dad, learning new vocabulary, hearing new stories. So when I brought my family to village, acting as their interpreter, helping them through the greetings and the customs, it made me feel proud. I could use the language that he taught me to introduce my parents and to act as the go between, changing my mom’s thanks in English to Bambara. My host dad, my homologue and the women’s association all presented us with chickens, which is a form of great thanks. It was sad that we had run out of time and could not sit and share in the meal with them, and yet it was funny to me that both my parents and my adopted parents thought on the same lines, suggesting in two different languages that the chickens be saved for when I came back to village.

I also took them to meet my host family from my homestay village. I am sure they were not surprised to see that the family dog took to my mom just as quickly as he had to me. It was one of the first things my host dad pointed out upon entering the compound. Standing in their yard, Awa, my host mom, pointed out how much my mother and I looked the same. I thought this was quite ironic because this was the very same woman who had once told me that a lot of Malians do not recognize the differences in Tubabs the way they did in Malians. She had said that we might all look the same to Malians. Yet she immediately commented that we had the same face. Returning to their home for the first time since my training had ended, I was excited to see my host sisters and was overcome with a feeling of the familiar. Again, pressed for time, we had to leave shortly after arriving, but I am looking forward to going back for a longer visit.

Playing interpreter for my parents, I was surprised at how much I could understand, and how much I was understood. Because I was sent to DC for 3 weeks and then didn’t immediately return to site, I felt my language suffered. I am sure it has. But I was still able to ask many of my dad’s questions and even understand some of the answers. I got us all around Bamako, which I will tell you is no small feat, with the taxis and the different cartiers and the millions of cars and motos.

And of course, my parents were constantly impressed with the friendliness of the people of Mali. I know, have known, that I am surrounded by good people. But it’s a good reminder of just how open and friendly and helpful Malians are, to hear it from someone else. From people on the airplane, to people at the hotel, the staff at many of the places we had lunch or dinner, the cab drivers, the random people in the market, the people in my village and in the other villages we went to. We were warmly welcomed, and even more so when I spoke Bambara. It seemed to blow some of them away, to meet a Tubab who didn’t want to speak French. I set them straight, telling them I couldn’t speak it. Which really only really became a problem when we were trying to find a non-existent water fall.

I felt it was a successful trip. I’ve learned that the measure of success is different for everyone, but no one was sick, we had minimal bug bites, no sun burn, no one was forced to squat over a latrine hole (a miracle!) and we took away some great memories and some good stories. I know I’m half a world, and lots of shots away, but the gate is open; visitor’s are being accepted.