When I am in my village, I am at home. It is comfortable in my house (emotionally, since no one could call 108` comfortable) and I find my routine easily. My neighbors happily greet meet and I am always welcome at the houses of my colleagues and village friends. Children know my name and want to help me with anything and everything, from pumping my water and shooing random animals out of my compound, to sweeping my dusty yard and watering my garden. After 10 months of being in Mali, and over 8 months of it in Niasso, my site is really becoming my town, my neighborhood, my home. When I have been away, I look forward to returning, and the feeling that washes over me upon reentering my village, pulling off onto my dirt road, passing all of my familiar places, is overwhelmingly comforting.
When I leave village to come to San, the town I go to for my banking and market, I usually go by bike. The ride is about 20k (12 miles) and usually takes me about an hour, depending on the wind and how much sleep I got the night before. On my ride, I pass lots of other villagers biking to and from markets with any number of random things packed on the back of their bikes - bags, market buys, children or other passengers, sheep, chickens, goats. We greet each other, exchange a brief wave. Sometimes, if we are traveling the same direction, we will talk a bit. “Where are you from? Where are you going? What village do you live in? What work do you do there? Do you know Bakary Coulibaly, he lives in the village near yours?”
My route is along a main road, frequented by not only other bike riders, but motos, cars, buses, and freight trucks as well. When these huge trucks rush past me, going the opposite direction, I am treated to a face full of dust and head wind so fierce, I seem to be suspended on the spot, my peddling only keeping me from being blown backwards. We also share the road with donkey and horse carts, piled high with goods for market and women who are headed to sell their wares there. As I pass them, the women return my greetings with enthusiastic smiles and questions. “How’s your family? How are your children? How are the people from your village? How is your man?” As I ride by, I grin, answering as many questions as I can, trying to juggle my greetings while weaving between the carts, the traffic in both directions and the multitude of potholes that make up the majority of the road.
Now, after the Tour d’Afrique has come through town, the road is labeled with distances; 10k, 5k, and 3k from San. Although we recently confirmed our doubts that the distance from 10k to 5k is in fact more than 5k (7.5 at least!), as I approach the 3k mark, I start to feel a little lighter. I have entered the San city limits and suddenly the wind and the heat don’t matter. As I pull around the corner, almost to our house here, the same feeling of comfort comes over me. It is my home away from home. When I come in, I know that there is a good chance that at least one other of our 8 volunteers will be in town, all of whom I look forward to seeing, which I know is a feeling I am so very lucky to have. We volunteers know our neighbors and the people who run different businesses in town. We have clean, running water, which means showers, real toilets and filling up our cistern, a concrete hot tub of sorts. We also have electricity, which means movies, music, and a running refrigerator aka cold water.
Talking to another volunteer recently, I thought of a perfect comparison. Growing up, we used to go to my grandparent’s beach house on Stretch Island. We’d pack up the car and after at least 4 checks and rechecks of the house, we’d be on our way. When, two hours later or three with traffic and stops, we got to the bridge that connects Stretch Island to Grapeview, I felt excited. Happy to be back there, happy to have endured the long ride in the car next to my little brother who knew my buttons and just how to push them. Even the dogs would know when we were close, smelling the beach and the ocean, rushing to get to the window.
Of course, we all know the feeling of returning home after a vacation. While the vacation was probably awesome, the minute you step foot on the plane or in the car, the minute you start heading back , its over. And you’re eager to get back to the routine, your own bed, the comfort of home. When you finally pull into the neighborhood, get the car in the driveway, it’s a relief. You are home. For me, San is the beach house on Stretch Island and Niasso is home. While in reality, nothing in Mali could ever replace my home in Washington, and definitely not my favorite place on the Pudget Sound, it is nice to have some places to help to fill the gap. And to feel like home.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Pump Project Completed!
We finished our first project yesterday! Our health center has a water pump out front that has not worked for months. Its been inactive at least as long as I have been in village, and undoubtedly much longer. Apparently, it was fixed once, but then broke again soon after. My village has three pumps, but the only one working properly was at the mayor's office. The health center is near the mayor's office, but it is still quite a walk and when you need water, you need water. So we decided it should be repaired.
We had a meeting on Sunday, the ASACO members (ASACO is the board of community members that oversee happenings at the CSCOM), the CSCOM workers (the CSCOM is my health center), my homologue, Alima and I, and came up with a plan. On Monday, the ASACO president, Sidi, called into San, and by Wednesday, the engineers were in Niasso.
The two engineers, with the help of all male staff of our CSCOM, pulled the pump apart, including the about 80 feet of pipe that they pulled out of the ground. The offensive parts were identified and a price was named. To my surprise, the CSCOM paid for the fixing of the pump with money from the pharmacy. It was a surprise because a lot of times I hear about a village relying on volunteers for money or help with financing. Because we are outsiders, Americans, and seen as aid workers, we must have money that we are just itching to throw out. But this time, Ba, my pharmacist, suggested that the funds be provided by the pharmacy, which everyone else agreed on.
By the time the men were putting the pump back together, new parts and all, a small crowd had gathered. Boys from the middle school had come to watch the activity, and stood grouped around the pump, transfixed by the parts and tools and action. When the pump was finally finished, the kids were filling up any bucket they could find just to have a chance to try the "new" pump.
A day later, I am still excited about the project and how smoothly it all went. It was uncharacteristic for Malians to take such initiative. As a true procrastinator, even I had thought we'd be waiting around on the project for weeks. But now it is done, and everyone is so proud of their work. I am proud them, too.
We had a meeting on Sunday, the ASACO members (ASACO is the board of community members that oversee happenings at the CSCOM), the CSCOM workers (the CSCOM is my health center), my homologue, Alima and I, and came up with a plan. On Monday, the ASACO president, Sidi, called into San, and by Wednesday, the engineers were in Niasso.
The two engineers, with the help of all male staff of our CSCOM, pulled the pump apart, including the about 80 feet of pipe that they pulled out of the ground. The offensive parts were identified and a price was named. To my surprise, the CSCOM paid for the fixing of the pump with money from the pharmacy. It was a surprise because a lot of times I hear about a village relying on volunteers for money or help with financing. Because we are outsiders, Americans, and seen as aid workers, we must have money that we are just itching to throw out. But this time, Ba, my pharmacist, suggested that the funds be provided by the pharmacy, which everyone else agreed on.
By the time the men were putting the pump back together, new parts and all, a small crowd had gathered. Boys from the middle school had come to watch the activity, and stood grouped around the pump, transfixed by the parts and tools and action. When the pump was finally finished, the kids were filling up any bucket they could find just to have a chance to try the "new" pump.
A day later, I am still excited about the project and how smoothly it all went. It was uncharacteristic for Malians to take such initiative. As a true procrastinator, even I had thought we'd be waiting around on the project for weeks. But now it is done, and everyone is so proud of their work. I am proud them, too.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Easter in Sokoura
As you know, Mali is a largely Muslim country. That said, I live in an area with a very large population of Christians. San is known as the place to get pork and chimi chama (millet beer) and to be able to enjoy them with other Malians. Many of my volunteer friends have been placed in Christian villages, or villages with a substantial Christian population. My village is mostly Muslim; as far as I can tell I am one of two Christians, the other being my Chief of Post at my CSCOM who was hired from outside the village.
My friend Cait, the volunteer in the village closest to mine, lives in a Christian village. She’d invited me to her village for Easter this year, which came the weekend after our most recent training in Segou. Of course, leave it to me to get sick the day she was biking out to her village, a nice ride that averages about an hour and a half for her, but can be a bit treacherous if you aren’t feeling well. So yesterday, around 11am, I went to Sokura, a Christian village near my friend Shelby’s village of Fangasso. There were three of us going, Brad, another volunteer from my stage, and Nicole, a friend working with Cornell and an NGO in San. We set out for transport, and as usual, spent a good two hours waiting for a bus out of town.
When we had finally caught our ride and had made it to Sokoura, Shelby was waiting for us by the road. We met her friends, and made our way into the heart of Sokoura. The village has a strong Catholic presence, with a large mission built just on the outside of town. Apparently, during August, there is a large St. Mary’s Day celebration, with visitors from all over. Shelby has asked us to come back for that because usually the town is overrun with Italians, and as volunteers who live in the surrounding communities, we have to represent!
As we walked past the mission into the heart of town, we greeted people here and there, those sitting under the shade of the trees and the eaves of the mission. Through out town, people were sitting in small groups, chatting and enjoying the day. The center of town was set up for the dancing that would come later. In the center of the area were two large balaphones, a xylophone type instrument with gourds hanging under them to supply the sound.
We stopped first at a house near the center of town. Immediately, we were handed calabash bowls about the size of cantaloupes with tall bottles standing in the middle of them. The bottles held the chimi chama, and the women running the house poured each of our bottles into our calabash bowls with a grin. After a taste, she questions, “a ka di?” Is it good? it’s a warm liquid, about the color and consistency of hot apple cider, that tastes a bit like apple cider with a twist. The smell of it is a bit off, but we can’t quite identify why. As we drink our chimi chama, seated on rice sacks overstuffed with millet, surrounded by crucifixes, photos of Jesus and buzzing flies, more children and young people begin to fill the house, curious as to why the tubabs are in town. Visitors stop by to greet us, people from Sokoura and the surrounding villages. In Sokoura, the people speak Bomu, and even though Shelby gets an extra big grin from those she greets in Bomu, we are just as warmly welcomed when we speak Bambara.
Through out the day, we wander through town, stopping at different compounds to greet and even sit for a while to chat and enjoy some more chimi chama. At one house, the women are grinding the millet that is fermented to make chimi chama, and she happily smiles for a picture. One man playing cards at a table near us is from Togo, employed at the mission and speaks fantastic English. Girls in still another compound are braiding hair, starting off by pulling the youngest girl’s hair out of the braids it was in, a process that does not look pleasant.
At the last house, I find myself wearing a whole calabash bowl of chimi chama, the result of being inexplicably startled by Brad as he was passing me the bowl. Sticky, but much cooler, we headed for the center of village, where we found dancing and music. We were lead into dancing circles by Malian women with moves you’ve never seen before. Our circle dancing continued for some time, with small breaks for sips of chimi chama, which we noticed was much stronger than the first bowls we enjoyed.
We finally found ourselves back in the center of the village, with the balaphones playing and lots of singing and dancing. Thirsty, our feet covered in dirt, and with great stories to take home, we set off for San. Our ride home, on top of a freight truck carrying people and their cargo, including huge bags of fish, was less than comfortable, but an experience all the same. Needless to say, upon arriving home, there were showers all around and well deserved rest. Definitely an Easter to remember.
My friend Cait, the volunteer in the village closest to mine, lives in a Christian village. She’d invited me to her village for Easter this year, which came the weekend after our most recent training in Segou. Of course, leave it to me to get sick the day she was biking out to her village, a nice ride that averages about an hour and a half for her, but can be a bit treacherous if you aren’t feeling well. So yesterday, around 11am, I went to Sokura, a Christian village near my friend Shelby’s village of Fangasso. There were three of us going, Brad, another volunteer from my stage, and Nicole, a friend working with Cornell and an NGO in San. We set out for transport, and as usual, spent a good two hours waiting for a bus out of town.
When we had finally caught our ride and had made it to Sokoura, Shelby was waiting for us by the road. We met her friends, and made our way into the heart of Sokoura. The village has a strong Catholic presence, with a large mission built just on the outside of town. Apparently, during August, there is a large St. Mary’s Day celebration, with visitors from all over. Shelby has asked us to come back for that because usually the town is overrun with Italians, and as volunteers who live in the surrounding communities, we have to represent!
As we walked past the mission into the heart of town, we greeted people here and there, those sitting under the shade of the trees and the eaves of the mission. Through out town, people were sitting in small groups, chatting and enjoying the day. The center of town was set up for the dancing that would come later. In the center of the area were two large balaphones, a xylophone type instrument with gourds hanging under them to supply the sound.
We stopped first at a house near the center of town. Immediately, we were handed calabash bowls about the size of cantaloupes with tall bottles standing in the middle of them. The bottles held the chimi chama, and the women running the house poured each of our bottles into our calabash bowls with a grin. After a taste, she questions, “a ka di?” Is it good? it’s a warm liquid, about the color and consistency of hot apple cider, that tastes a bit like apple cider with a twist. The smell of it is a bit off, but we can’t quite identify why. As we drink our chimi chama, seated on rice sacks overstuffed with millet, surrounded by crucifixes, photos of Jesus and buzzing flies, more children and young people begin to fill the house, curious as to why the tubabs are in town. Visitors stop by to greet us, people from Sokoura and the surrounding villages. In Sokoura, the people speak Bomu, and even though Shelby gets an extra big grin from those she greets in Bomu, we are just as warmly welcomed when we speak Bambara.
Through out the day, we wander through town, stopping at different compounds to greet and even sit for a while to chat and enjoy some more chimi chama. At one house, the women are grinding the millet that is fermented to make chimi chama, and she happily smiles for a picture. One man playing cards at a table near us is from Togo, employed at the mission and speaks fantastic English. Girls in still another compound are braiding hair, starting off by pulling the youngest girl’s hair out of the braids it was in, a process that does not look pleasant.
At the last house, I find myself wearing a whole calabash bowl of chimi chama, the result of being inexplicably startled by Brad as he was passing me the bowl. Sticky, but much cooler, we headed for the center of village, where we found dancing and music. We were lead into dancing circles by Malian women with moves you’ve never seen before. Our circle dancing continued for some time, with small breaks for sips of chimi chama, which we noticed was much stronger than the first bowls we enjoyed.
We finally found ourselves back in the center of the village, with the balaphones playing and lots of singing and dancing. Thirsty, our feet covered in dirt, and with great stories to take home, we set off for San. Our ride home, on top of a freight truck carrying people and their cargo, including huge bags of fish, was less than comfortable, but an experience all the same. Needless to say, upon arriving home, there were showers all around and well deserved rest. Definitely an Easter to remember.
Segou Regional IST
We just completed a regional in-service training (IST) in Segou on April 1st. The training was put together to address issues we might be having in our service, to talk more about food security, and to help us get in contact with NGO’s in our areas that we might work with in the future.
While the training itself had many great points, my favorite part was getting to spend time with the other people in our region, as well as other San Kaw. Even though I am only 4 hours (about) away from Segou, I have not traveled there much. On bus trips to San, we’ve stopped for lunch or a bathroom break, but that’s the extent of my time there. It is a fun city!
Originally the capital of Mali, it also boasts the birthplace of Bambara. The city is on the river and attracts a decent number of NGO’s, ex-patriots, and tourists. The streets are paved, and many are tree lined. You can get anything you could ever need or want there, including cheese, pizza and ice cream, the true measurements of a good city.
But, all of this was only complimentary to the best part of being in Segou for our training. Each morning, I got to run on paved, tree-lined roads-sometimes sidewalks-with friends! What a great change of pace. As someone who has been putting in more and more miles lately, it was such an awesome feeling to be able to do it with other people. Ok, yeah, sometimes I get the occasional child in village who will trail me on my run, but somehow it just isn’t the same. To be able to set out at a steady pace, carry on light conversation, and field yelling Malians with someone. I’d forgotten how much I missed it!
Of course, I am still pounding the pavement (or uneven, sandy path) back in San and in village, getting tuned up to start marathon training in May. But I dream about the days when I’ll be able to run with friends again.
While the training itself had many great points, my favorite part was getting to spend time with the other people in our region, as well as other San Kaw. Even though I am only 4 hours (about) away from Segou, I have not traveled there much. On bus trips to San, we’ve stopped for lunch or a bathroom break, but that’s the extent of my time there. It is a fun city!
Originally the capital of Mali, it also boasts the birthplace of Bambara. The city is on the river and attracts a decent number of NGO’s, ex-patriots, and tourists. The streets are paved, and many are tree lined. You can get anything you could ever need or want there, including cheese, pizza and ice cream, the true measurements of a good city.
But, all of this was only complimentary to the best part of being in Segou for our training. Each morning, I got to run on paved, tree-lined roads-sometimes sidewalks-with friends! What a great change of pace. As someone who has been putting in more and more miles lately, it was such an awesome feeling to be able to do it with other people. Ok, yeah, sometimes I get the occasional child in village who will trail me on my run, but somehow it just isn’t the same. To be able to set out at a steady pace, carry on light conversation, and field yelling Malians with someone. I’d forgotten how much I missed it!
Of course, I am still pounding the pavement (or uneven, sandy path) back in San and in village, getting tuned up to start marathon training in May. But I dream about the days when I’ll be able to run with friends again.
PACA
In the middle of February, when I thought my language skills were finally good enough, we did PACA. PACA, Participatory Analysis for Community Action, is a tool we use to discover a community’s assets, accomplishments, needs and wants. It is a good way to become familiar with a community’s motivation and also to find out which projects would be good for your service.
We set aside a Saturday morning to meet as a community. In attendance were some very key members of my community; my homologue (counterpart), my host dad, our dugutigi (village chief), the matrone (midwife) for my CSCOM (health center), the director of the first cycle(elementary) school, women from our women’s group, the older men from our men’s group, a representative from our youth group, and various other village members.
We started by identifying what our village had done already, what they were proud of. The list was awesome. They talked about their schools, their respective men’s and women’s group, their children, their market, and their gardens. The next two activities were done with the meeting members split into a group of men and a group of women. We did a village map, where they drew out a map of the village as they saw it. Next, we made daily calendars to show what the men and women did each day, from waking up to going to bed.
We compared these maps and lists, focusing on the differences and similarities. We talked about why certain places in town were on one map and not the other, why they might be bigger or more central on one map, and how the duties that men and women perform through the day are different, yet complimentary.
From here we began a list of the things that the community wanted to accomplish. The list was about twelve items long, with ideas coming from both the men and women. After we came up with our list, we prioritized the items. When we had agreed on the final list, we talked about who would want to work on which projects. Some of the projects could be done sooner than others, so we identified people that might work together at a later date to accomplish projects that would need to happen in the rainy season or that would be secondary to more important projects.
What was on the list, you ask? The first item was help with food security. Other items included school supplies, first aid supplies for the school, and a school garden. The women want a well in their garden and the whole town agreed that pump repair, at both the school and the CSCOM were very important. Less important, but still on the list were items like solar panels for the school so that adult literacy classes held there after dark would have light and building a new maternity.
I learned that although my language was getting better, it wasn’t perfect. There were plenty of times when I was trying to explain something and just ran myself into a wall. That said, I was working with some of the most patient and understanding people I’ve ever met. If I was stuck, I had support from numerous people who helped me say what needed saying. I also learned that my purpose seems to be understood very well. A lot of volunteers seem to have issues in their villages with people expecting them to be a money source. While there were definitely things on our list that will require money, they were not things on the top of the list, and the people suggesting them were open to talk about ideas for fundraising. The whole process was less painful than I had anticipated and was so very helpful.
We set aside a Saturday morning to meet as a community. In attendance were some very key members of my community; my homologue (counterpart), my host dad, our dugutigi (village chief), the matrone (midwife) for my CSCOM (health center), the director of the first cycle(elementary) school, women from our women’s group, the older men from our men’s group, a representative from our youth group, and various other village members.
We started by identifying what our village had done already, what they were proud of. The list was awesome. They talked about their schools, their respective men’s and women’s group, their children, their market, and their gardens. The next two activities were done with the meeting members split into a group of men and a group of women. We did a village map, where they drew out a map of the village as they saw it. Next, we made daily calendars to show what the men and women did each day, from waking up to going to bed.
We compared these maps and lists, focusing on the differences and similarities. We talked about why certain places in town were on one map and not the other, why they might be bigger or more central on one map, and how the duties that men and women perform through the day are different, yet complimentary.
From here we began a list of the things that the community wanted to accomplish. The list was about twelve items long, with ideas coming from both the men and women. After we came up with our list, we prioritized the items. When we had agreed on the final list, we talked about who would want to work on which projects. Some of the projects could be done sooner than others, so we identified people that might work together at a later date to accomplish projects that would need to happen in the rainy season or that would be secondary to more important projects.
What was on the list, you ask? The first item was help with food security. Other items included school supplies, first aid supplies for the school, and a school garden. The women want a well in their garden and the whole town agreed that pump repair, at both the school and the CSCOM were very important. Less important, but still on the list were items like solar panels for the school so that adult literacy classes held there after dark would have light and building a new maternity.
I learned that although my language was getting better, it wasn’t perfect. There were plenty of times when I was trying to explain something and just ran myself into a wall. That said, I was working with some of the most patient and understanding people I’ve ever met. If I was stuck, I had support from numerous people who helped me say what needed saying. I also learned that my purpose seems to be understood very well. A lot of volunteers seem to have issues in their villages with people expecting them to be a money source. While there were definitely things on our list that will require money, they were not things on the top of the list, and the people suggesting them were open to talk about ideas for fundraising. The whole process was less painful than I had anticipated and was so very helpful.
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