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.
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