Holly's Mali

Figures...

2011-06-03T02:08:00.000-07:00

Through out my service, I have had one true enemy. Yes the heat is bad and the littlest Malians that run through my closed concession gate at full speed drive me bonkers, but they are not worth more than a sigh and a stern face. And while the rains that come through my roof in rainy season irk me, and the yelling of "tubabu" by the street children and sometimes even the adults make me cringe, they are also not at the top of my list. Long lines at the bank only to be cut by the old man who ignores the bright red numbers atop the cashier's window that conveniently correspond with the number on the slip of paper in my hand and use instead the Malian hierarchy of old over young are frustrating. And barking dogs, crowing roosters, donkeys braying with all their might and guinea fowl clucking along the outsides of my walls, all adding to the before-dawn prayer call are rather bother-some. But all of these things, and everything else that I have found less than pleasant about Mali are nothing, NOTHING, compared to the item at the top of my list.

Scorpions.

From the first time I saw one trying to join me in the nyegen for my evening bath back in homestay my first month in Mali, to the almost 60 others I have seen and killed in my house, they have been my worst enemy, loathsome, awful creatures who inspire the fear in me like no other thing here in Mali. So how fitting it is, that as I am spending my last night in village, up on my roof taking in the brilliance of the stars in such a wide open sky that I would feel a pinch in my upper left arm. Of course, thinking nothing much of it, i brushed at what ever was causing me trouble. "Ugh, stupid dugu mene (biting tiny ants)," I was thinking. But the pain would not abate and began to get hot and spread through my lower arm and up into my shoulder. Henry looks for a mark, a bite, something. And as he sighs, telling me there's nothing much to see, his eyes wander to the spot on the roof I had just occupied. "Well," he says, "there's a big ass scorpion right there...."

He got the CHACO of justice, that bastard, and still I have the last word.

Did I mention....

2011-05-25T08:41:00.000-07:00

My flights home are booked, and as the days winde down it is slowly becoming all I can think about. What will I do my last few days in Mali? What will they serve on the airplane between here and London, where I am meeting Rob, my little brother for a week of exploring? How amazing will the "foggy London-town" weather be when I get there? What will we do when we get to Paris and I STILL can't communicate with anyone? What will I do first when I get home to Seattle? What will I eat first? What will be the first caffeinated beverage I consume courtesy of good ol' Sbux? Will Simon, my dog, snub me like he did last July, barely giving me a hello before he runs off, just to prove to me that he's been fine since I left him behind, THANKYOUVERYMUCH!

With my time here coming to a close, of course I am faced with the fact that I must leave behind people I have come to think of as family. I will no longer be the focus of attention among a village of people (probably more good than bad) and people will not be awed at the fact that I speak their language instead of French. No longer will I use charades to get my point across (also a good thing?) or will I have to explain items I don't know the names for in terms of other items. (fen ka fen were tege.....? the thing that cuts that other thing?) I will miss a whole community of people: young people who will go through school and in sh'allah help to change the ace of Mali; old people who will continue to cling to their ways because really, they have been doing it that way their who lives and what is wrong with it anyway? children who will brighten the lives of other volunteers to come with their smiles, karate moves and warm and slightly sticky hands perfect for holding. I will miss the people I have shared my experience with, the other volunteers who left before me and those I will leave behind, a whole network of extended family, crazy cousins, wise aunts and uncles, brothers-in-law twice removed, that will support me and seek my support for years to come. I look forward to joining the thousands of returned volunteers before me who all have stories to rival my own.

I will miss the brilliance of the night stars with no light pollution. They really do twinkle. I will miss the beautiful colors that the women here wear and the way that they carry their babies, the way they let their children roam through village unsupervised (I was certain this was a huge mistake when I first arrived!), the way they find time to do everything that they have to do to keep their homes in order and still find time to laugh. I will miss the Malian tea and how it is a cure-all for just about everything from upset tummy and sleepiness to heat-exhaustion and the grumpies. I will miss the way Malians treat each other guests and otherwise. A 'hello' to everyone on the street, a joke between arguing parties is quelled by the exchange of last names (called joking cousins, something the US should seriously consider adopting), the offer of foo or drink or shelter or anything else you may need even if the giver doesn't have enough for two.

While I look forward to he next chapter, all filled with good cheese and beer, I will miss it all. The thought that calm my heart being of course that I am not leaving Mali forever; it is not done with me.

thank goodness for great friends

2011-05-21T03:27:00.000-07:00

I made Thanksgiving dinner this last Tuesday at the San house. After Thanksgiving this year, we have been talking about how much fun we had and how great the food was, and how surprisingly easy it was to make it all. So through out my last few months, I have slowly collected random ingredients to go into our feast. Of course, it helps when my mom sends me a large Trader Joe's box of instant mashed potatoes, or when past volunteers send us pie crust and filling in a well thought out care package. Add to that a box of stove top that Alyssa offered up, an extra large can of green beans from the boutiki (local store), and some je (pumpkin) from my favorite vegetable lady in market, and you've got yourself a feast.

Knowing that Henry and Alyssa would most definitely be in San, we decided to get Lindsey to come in as well. And by chance, our three newest volunteers Hannah, Chrissy, and Michelle were also in. With seven of us, I had decided to pick up some extra mangoes in town and so we had a mango pie and a raspberry pie with mango on top. At the last minute, just as we were about to start dishing up, Tom came back from having tried to catch transport out to his village all day. (Africa wins again!)

With the boys out on the front porch, us girls had a great time catching up on village stories and each others' lives. When I let it spill that my conversation with my mom earlier that evening brought the unfortunate news of my school plans not coming through, it was my great friends who were there for me. "Well, lets have another drink!" said one. Others offered sympathies and support, helping me to see the bright side of it all, and letting me know that it was ok to be sad about it. And to top it all off, every one of them said "well, that means you can stay in Mali!"

I can't write the right words to convey the way it made me feel, to be surrounded by so many great people. People that a year ago, even months ago, I had not known. Is it the way that this experience throws us all together and makes us form quick bonds? Or is it that the people that choose to volunteer 2 years of their lives to a group of people half-way across the world are of a like mind and would bond together anyway? What ever it is, I thank who ever is responsible for the opportunity to make life long friends that are great for a good laugh, and a good cry, and who I could never have done this with out.

Complete!

2011-05-18T04:42:00.000-07:00

The addition to our CSCOM (health center) is complete, we have a new maternity in Niasso!

Thank you to everyone who helped, through all forms of support, to complete this project. The women now have a brand new facility for their pre- and post-natal appointments, birthing, and child vaccinations and baby weighing, and they are beyond thrilled.

This project has been at times trying and at (most) other times eye opening and inspiring. Before the money we needed to collect was even guaranteed, the village had already gathered the materials they were supplying and had begun to make the bricks that constituted part of their community contribution. Before the project had the go-ahead, they already had faith in it.

When things began to look less positive, when our budget was about to be cut or when we had a change of Chef de Poste (director/main doctor at the health center), those involved in the project still held fast. They pushed on and held my spirits high when I was unsure of the future of the center. A community I was sent here to help helped me in the long run.

In addition, thanks to extra donations from an anonymous donor, we were able to give the women's Savings for Change group a large donation. This group was established through Oxfam in order to work with women's groups at the village level. The group provides small loans to women in the community on a quarterly basis. The group meets weekly to collect a small amount of change from each woman to put into the communal pot. When the time comes, women can petition to receive a small loan, which they then have 3 months to pay back little by little.

These loans can be used for anything, and usually are used for securing initial materials to begin an income generating activity such as soap making or selling of treats at market. These IGA's (income generating activities) help to provide women with a personal income, something many women cannot count on. They use funds for things like new fabrics for clothes for themselves and their children or paying for adult literacy classes. Some even to purchase birth control and other birth spacing tools at the CSCOM pharmacy with out having to ask their husbands for the money since many might not approve of it.

Maternity Update

2011-04-24T11:36:00.000-07:00

One more time, I'd like to thank all of the people who helped to make this wish come true. We broke ground on the Maternity in Niasso and already the building is making its way up. The head of our ASACO (the governing board of the health center) and I have been working together on San market days to pick up the supplies for the maternity, dooni dooni (little, by little.)

We have purchased the wood and supplies to make a table for the newborn babies as before they were placed in sheets of fabric on the floor while the motther and matrone worked to finish the birth. We have also assembled a new shelf to house al of the malnutrition and birthing records for the mothers and children of the surrounding villages.

I have been away from my village helping with training these last few weeks, but I have been kept up to date with the progress the village is making to continue the project. I have been told the building itself was completed two weeks ago and the electrician has been out to price and install lights to be set up with our solar panel and car battery. This means mothers who go into labor between the hours of 6:30 pm and 5:30 am won't continue to do so in the dark or by wobbly flashlight.

As soon as the building has had sufficient time to settle, we will begin to move into it.. Already the relais (community health workers) have completed a series of trainings on health talks that they will give each week at the new maternity and each Sunday at our small village market.

36 killed in Mali stampede

2011-02-25T08:45:00.000-08:00

By MARTIN VOGLThe Associated Press Monday, February 21, 2011; 10:53 PM
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/02/21/AR2011022104121.html
BAMAKO, Mali -- At least 36 people were killed in a stampede Monday when a crowd surged against a metal barrier after a Muslim ceremony, Mali's minister of interior security and civil protection said.

Sadio Gassame said the stampede at Bamako's Modibo Keita Stadium took place during a ceremony marking the Muslim holy period of Maouloud. The incident occurred as tens of thousands of people were attempting to leave through a metallic enclosure.

Anguished families gathered outside the capital's Gabriel Toure Hospital where the staff was preparing to post a list of the dead. At least 64 others were wounded.

Sidiki Coulibaly was visibly shaken as he waited for the dreaded news. "I've already had it confirmed that my aunt died. We are now trying to find out what happened to her daughter. She's just 10 years old. They go to this event together every year," he said.

At the place where people had been crushed, security personnel were collecting piles of shoes to put into a waiting van. A young girl sat on a bucket at the edge of the scene, crying. She had lost both parents and didn't know her way home.

February News

2011-02-18T09:10:00.000-08:00

Hey all, sorry this blog is so late in coming. These last few months have been a bit busy. I have been helping to prepare for the arrival of a new group of trainees and now that they have arrived, I have been involved in their training. They seem to be a great group of new soon-to-be volunteers; it'll be exciting to see how the rest of their training goes and to see them swear in this April.

Last night, around 1am, I was lucky enough to get some rain. A very big surprise to me, and then a big surprise to the guard at the house here in San when I proceeded to get up and stand in the rain. We're coming into hot season right now and I definitely wasn't expecting any rain for a while, but perhaps this is the first of the Mango rains. Either way, I am not complaining.

One more big piece of news; my project to build a maternity and women's center was fully funded. A huge thank you to all that helped with this project! It is because of donations and support from you all that this dream is becoming a reality. We have started the meetings to delegate tasks and as I write this, our new bricks are baking in the sun. I'll try to keep you all updated on progress as the project picks up.

IST

2010-12-19T02:38:00.000-08:00

A year later, I find myself back Tubani So, the Peace Corps training center just outside of Bamako, this time as a trainer. From December 6-13, I helped to lead technical sessions for the newest batch of Heath Education volunteers. We’ve covered everything from pre- and post-natal consultations to STI’s and moringa. The volunteers got to go to a local school to do health animations (interactive education) at the end of last week. The group I was with spoke to a 9th grade classroom about HIV and AIDs as well as contraceptives. The kids were much more knowledgeable than I would have expected. Surprisingly, the teacher was also very knowledgeable, and was extremely helpful in making sure the students understood the volunteers’ Bamabara and French. The volunteers themselves gave great presentations and were able to keep relatively straight faces when talking about some very sensitive topics. The hardest part seemed to be answering questions about where AIDS came from. Not just how you get it, but how people got it in the first place. Of course, they also wanted to know if people in America have it too, and whether or not the rates of infection were the same there as they are in Mali.

The rate of infection in Mali is actually quite low, around 1.3%, while in America it is about .3%. Of course in other African countries, the rates can be much higher, which is why it seems that Africa as a continent is highly affected. Regardless, it is still an issue here, and many organizations are working to fight it and to raise awareness of it. It is interesting to go to a school, or even to talk about it with people in village over tea and hear about what they know. In my village specifically, people know that one man is infected, and they know that he cannot marry because he will infect others. In a Muslim culture that puts emphasis on multiple wives as a status symbol, it seems quite progressive to have a whole community stand behind one man’s choice to stay single. The village was one of many that received HIV/AIDS education and sensitization from a past volunteer, one of the biggest reasons why they have chosen to support this man and why he has chosen to avoid infecting others. Other villages might not be so inclined, but through our interaction and education, perhaps we really are making a difference.

Garden Project

2010-12-19T02:32:00.000-08:00

After quite a few months of back and forth, we finally started the garden project on November 19th. All week, we planned to start work on Friday morning. My host dad, Sekou talked non-stop, as he is known to do, about the project, and there was much excitement from the teachers at the school that I am working with. So come 8:30, I was up and out with the teachers, ready for work. The first thing we had to do was put up the fencing, which required putting posts into the ground, cementing them in and then putting up the actual fencing to surround the garden space, which is about 18 meters by 18 meters. I was prepared for the fact that this project would be on West African International Time (W.A.I.T.) but when I looked up from my conversation with Barou, one of the teachers, I saw Sekou across the school yard with Yakouba, one of the village men who had offered to come help. They were already out, measuring the land and marking where the posts would go. I spent most of the morning trying to be helpful, pulling water for them to mix with the cement, collecting big rocks to help anchor the posts, and going to the boutiki to get sugar and tea to keep the men going. Through the whole morning, the only people working were Sekou and Yakouba, along with the occasional young man who stopped by to watch and got sucked in to help. It was more than frustrating to me that the teachers and the school director were sitting around while the community members, who really have no connection to the school, were doing all the work. Finally, Barou followed me to the field to see how things were going, and then once he came over others followed. While it was frustrating that the teachers weren’t more involved in the building of the fence, I am excited that they seem to be more interested, and hopefully therefore more involved in the teaching of the gardening skills and the work in the actual garden.

The goal with this project is to transfer gardening skills to the kids in the first cycle school, as well as to use the garden and the vegetables we harvest as an income generating activity (IGA). Ideally, the kids will sell their produce at our local market, the profits of which will be used to purchase things for the school or to fund small repairs at the school. I am looking forward to using the garden as a health education tool by teaching about nutrition and the benefits of adding the different vegetable to their diets. Perhaps we can even use the project as a math education tool by teaching the kids how to calculate what to charge for the different vegetables in the market and how to keep track of the profits and expenses of the garden. Selfishly, I am looking forward to getting to work in the garden with the kids. I have started my own garden in my concession, but more often than not, Sekou has done the “dirty” work and I have been left to stand by and watch. Another perk will be the new variety of produce available at Niasso’s market, which currently sells tiny shriveled onions on occasion along with fried dough balls, batteries, and peanuts. A little variety would benefit everyone. As the project progresses, I will continue to post updates.

Thanksgiving, San Style

2010-12-19T02:12:00.000-08:00

We celebrated Thanksgiving this year in San with all of the new San volunteers. I spent all day in the kitchen with Alyssa and Lindsey, prepping and cooking the traditional Thanksgiving fare, or at least as traditional as we could make it here in Mali. We were able to make stuffing from dried bread crumbs and maggi cubes, pumpkin pie from a squash very similar to pumpkin called dje in Bambara, and corn bread and mashed potatoes from the fresh produce we got in market. We were also able to make salad, baked squash, fruit salad, and cake! Luckily, we had a house full of people to help with the chopping and the innumerable trips to market. When it was finally time to sit down to a family style dinner, with every one dressed up and sharing what they were thankful for, Ameriki didn’t feel quite so far away.

Tabaski

2010-12-19T02:08:00.000-08:00

Tabaski, or Seli-Ba which comes 70 days after the end of Ramadan was celebrated in the middle of November this year. It is a Muslim holiday, but is comparable to the story of Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac. In the Muslim religion, many will say that it was Muhammad who was asked to sacrifice Ishmael. Which ever version you subscribe to, the point is that at the last minute, God sent and angel down to stop him and told him to sacrifice a sheep instead. The traditional Tabaski fare features a sheep which is slaughtered by an old man, muttering benedictions as he slides the knife over the throat of the sheep, which is held down by the other male members of the family. After being in DC last November, I was able to take part in my village celebrations this time around and have posted some of the best pictures from the day, including the slaughtering of the sacrificial sheep and pics of Niasso Kaw in their Seli-Ba best.

The goat we sacrificed with my host brothers and the ce koroba (old man).
Just before cutting the goat's throat. Bakaary, the ce koroba is repeating a benediction as he kills the goat. It is saying thank you for this year and asking for good health in the next.
Bakary, the same man who killed the goat, after cleaning up for the fete.
The school teachers and other friends having afternoon tea.

Marathon Stuff

2010-10-21T06:32:00.000-07:00

Results are up on the Accra Internaational Marathon website. Men's and women's full and half marathon results are posted, as are photos!

Mali in the news

2010-10-12T06:15:00.000-07:00

I was reading a few news pieces recently that I thought might be interesting. The first focuses on Nigerian women being kidnapped and brought to Mali for prostitution, something that the Malian government is working to stop. To read, follow this link

The second article talks about the French asking for Mali's help in releasing hostages captured in Niger and help in northern Mali by Al-Qaeda. The area that they are supposedly being held in is quite far north, an area that Peace Corps does not occupy because of the instability of the area. The kidnappings occurred in mid-September. To read this article, click here. Last July a hostage was killed in the north after an invasion of the French to free him. Ironically, the French worked with Mauritania to facilitate that movement instead of working with Malian officials. This article can be found here.

Finally, a third article speaks to how the kidnapping threat has affected aid and specifically local aid in Mali. Peace Corps has already had to close down many sites in the last few year that were far enough north to be affected by terrorist activity, or that were deemed unsafe by our safety and security officer. This article goes further to touch on other aid campaigns and how they will be changed as a result of the newest activity. To read more, click here.

Ghana Marathon

2010-10-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

It's come and gone, and two weeks later I am still a bit fazed that I did it.

On Sunday, September 26th, I ran in the Accra International Marathon in Accra, Ghana. As new volunteers, my friend Jeremy and I had heard about this marathon and talked about doing it. This April, our friend Colleen put together training info and we started our training in May. Through the heat of hot season (think mid-90's to 110/115 daily) and the down pour of rainy season, we trained with this day in mind.

Jeremy and I decided to go to Accra a bit early while everyone ele came into town on the Saturday before the race. When we arrived in Accra, we were thrown by the language (English!) and the fact that the YMCA hostel really was only for young men; I spent the first two mights of our trip hiding, sneaking in and out of the hostel so that the other "young men" wouldn't see me. We explored the city - which is enormous - discovering the following: in fact there is not a zoo in Accra, but there is a large prayer forest that is home to previous zoo animals and their respective enclosed habitats, a journey to which our taxi driver accompanied us; the markets in Africa tend to all be the same, but the Accra market was far and away the most overwhelming market I have ever been in; Accra is so huge, it is necessary as a tourist to take a taxi most everywhere, and they are not cheap; there are more ice cream shops, Chinese and Indian restaurants and cell phone companies per capita than any other city I have ever been to; and surprisingly, there were almost no motorcycles, although the drivers were just as scary.

By the time our friends arrived in Accra, we were almost experts on the area of Osu. In addition to the Mali volunteers, were joined at our hostel by volunteers from Ghana and Togo. PC/Ghana had ten runners, as did PC/Togo, a mixture of marathoners and half-marathoners. Our group was made up of 4 marathoners, 2 half-marathoners, and a large group of "rowdy spectators." As we prepped for the race the night before, Gloria and Chris prepped their own bags with water sachets, bananas, power gels, cameras and extra clothes for the runners. the runners prepped with a dinner of pizza, pasta, and ice cream.

The night before the marathon, I was anxious and didn't really get much sleep, but the next morning as we took our "before" photos and loaded the bus that was to take us to the starting line, I began to feel less sleepy and more excited. Wishing Ali and Josh, our half-marathon runners good luck, we dropped the 200 or so half runners at their starting line. After what felt like much more than 13 miles, we disembarked the bus and got assembled at the start line. An hour late and 3 false starts later, the gun finally went off and the race began.

I am known for starting too fast, so I was careful to go out at a steady pace. Through out the whole race, I felt pretty good, and at about mile 6 I began to pass a few people here and there. Of course, the problem of passing other runners on a poorly labeled course, is that they were your markers and now you become lost much more easily. Many times I wondered where I was going, and where I was leading the people running behind me, and just when I was sure I had gone the wrong way, I would see someone in the orange shirt we were given running ahead of me.

In this manner, I made my way through the run, passing a huge group of our friends hanging at a beach bar around mile 16 and later, Chris and Gloria at mile 20-something passing out water, bananas, and GU. Before I knew it, I was passing more milage signs, although they were not really marked so all I knew was that I was putting more miles behind me. Around what I think was mile 24, I hit my wall. My legs got tired, and my mantra of "this doesn't hurt, you're not tired, you're almost there," turned into something much more obscene and much less optimistic. It was around mile 25 that another volunteer caught up to me, a woman that I had thought was way ahead of me. After struggling to keep up for a bit, she passed me by, and just behind her was a Ghanaian woman. I watched them ahead of me, both in bright green shirt, waiting to see when they stopped running, thinking it had to be close.

Finally after running for far too long through traffic and smog, with random people telling me to "try hard, run fast," telling me the other runners went that way, I came to the turn off, to mile 26. I was able to pick it up a little bit, finish in good form, and crossing the finish line, I felt strong. It wasn't until I was lead to the race tables that I realized that those two women were the only other two ahead of me, and that there had only been 10 people total ahead of me.

I met up with Ali and Josh, both of whom finished their half strong, and we waited for the other Mali marathoners. Soon enough, Colleen, Kat and Jeremy came into view, and we watched them cross the line. Although we were hot, sweaty, sunburned and blistered, we all made it. After all of our training, all the sore muscles and dehydration through training, the early mornings of waking up before the sun, the nights we turned in early while others stayed up, the ways we sacrificed our bodies and our sanity, we all finally made it.

I am so proud of us all, proud to say that I did it. While I set a new personal record and placed for the first time, I am more proud of the time I put into training and the fact that I ran it all. I was also really proud to say that I was part of such a supportive and determined team of runners and spectators. And of course, not an hour after crossing the finish line, we were discussing the rumor of another marathon in January...

Food Security Conference

2010-10-08T10:16:00.000-07:00

I came into Bamako to present at a conference on food security in the middle of September. I was asked to represent the Health Education sector by presenting on my garden project to many NGO representatives who have an interest in food security and in working with the Peace Corps in this capacity.

Alima, my counterpart came with me and we were the first to present. After a few technical difficulties, I had to begin my presentation sans power point and photos, but the presentation was still a success. Alima began by greeting the crowd and explaining who we were, where we were from, and our working relationship. Then together we explained the process we used to assess the communities need and the ways that we started our project.

We began by using PACA, the participatory analysis for community action model. This is a series of activities and sessions that first ask the community to identify what they are proud of as a community. Then we move on to what the community sees a need for, the priority of the different needs they identify, and their ability to fill that need.

Through this series of activities, we identified a need for school and medical supplies, for food security, and the interest in working to teach the children at the first cycle school gardening techniques. This directly coincided with my interest in teaching the children about healthy eating and nutrition.

From this meeting, we also identified a community partner in the director of my first cycle school, Djakary Dja, who helped us to develop a budget and a plan of action. I applied for the grant through Peace Corps while also working with Djakary Dja and Alima to discuss the community's contribution to the project. Through this specific grant, the community is responsible for 33% of the total budget.

With our approved project proposal, we are getting ready to begin the building of the fencing and when school has started and the ground is ready, we will start the planting of vegetable. The children will be able to learn about the different planting techniques and options while working the land themselves. The goal is to educate the children on gardening practices, which they will use to cultivate the land and harvest their crop. The vegetables will be sold at our local market, providing a new variety of available foods, and a source of income for the school caisse. Initially the money will be used to purchase the medical supplies that the school needs, a basic first aid kit that will help with small cuts and bruises, things that would usual send the child and teacher all the way across town, if the family could even afford the treatment.

Eventually, monies will be used to purchase school supplies, and then be kept in the school caisse to help to meet the schools needs for things like pump repair and other minor needs. The garden will continue to be a source of learning and achievement for the children.

Our project was well received by the group and Alima was proud to have been invited to present on our work. She was eager and able to answer all kinds of questions from the crowd, shedding the shyness she sometimes resorts to among strangers and important people.

2010-09-16T13:06:00.001-07:00

I just finished reading The Cruelest Journey by Kira Salak. It is about the author, Kira’s kayak trip on the Niger river in Mali from Segou to Timbuktu. I had started it at home, so it was hard to get into and I had put it off until I got back to Mali. While in country, I have devoured books about other volunteers and other people’s experiences in Mali or other African countries. As I read this book, I really identified with Kira on a few points, especially on a few things that I have had a hard time putting into words.

For example, she talks about one of her encounters with a Malian friend, and how when she was quiet and reflective, he thought something was wrong. “But I get tired of trying to explain to some people that I value privacy and solitude as much as they value socializing. If I don’t have time to myself each day, I get stir-crazy. I’ll just run off, needing to escape from a place. But in countries like Mali, with strong tribal traditions, that must sound virtually incomprehensible, as family, religion, and social order provide a crucial structure that sustains people and prevents discontent. Back home, being alone might be considered a kind of independence, but here it is pathology.” This was such a hard concept to get across to my host family in home stay during my first few months of training.

Another thing that really struck me in her book was Kira’s observations on the heat. Strangely, the night offers no respite from the hot temperature, and only the occasional whiff of a breeze gives faint relief. At any rate, it is better to remain outside at all costs. The stifling heat lasts well into the night. She writes this while in Timbuktu, but I can tell you that North or South, it is the same. Hot, hot, hot.

Kira talks about her traveling habits and this journey specifically, and how a lot of times she is quick to look onto the next thing, especially when things are hard. “There are times when I am traveling when I forget that things pass, and then the so-called benefits of an experience elude me, and I can think only of the difficulties. I find it hard to appreciate anything with the sweat running off my face and burning my eyes, the sun’s heat scorching my skin, my body aching from holding the paddle. What room for ‘experience’ when there is only a wish to get to the next place faster, so that the end might be nearer?” I have found myself looking forward to events and ultimately the end of my service, especially when I am having bad days or when time seems to drag on. I have to make myself focus on the moment that I am living in, knowing that these moments are a part of the greater whole, but no less a part than the big moments.

When telling people about Mali, I am sometimes at a loss because most months of the year, Mali is dry, brown, dusty. When I first arrived, I was constantly taken aback at the sights surrounding me, the people, the hills around our home stay village, the sunset skies after the rowdy rainstorms. Of course, when you spend as much time somewhere as we spend here, those things can be lost. “I was on the hill. You see? Over there.” he points to the east, to a distant, high hill, its top outlined in the moonlight. “Kira, it was so beautiful. I climbed the hill and I was taking pictures from the top. Ah, it was incredible! The sun was setting… it was perfect.” There are still moments, perhaps riding my bike from village to San, or when I am out for a morning run as the sun is coming up, that I am in awe of the fact that I am in Africa, I am living in Africa.

Thank you

2010-09-01T10:45:00.000-07:00

Well its September already, I can’t believe it. This last year has gone by so quickly! I wanted to take some time to say thank you to everyone who has supported me this last year.

Whether it has been through letters, emails, packages, phone calls, thoughts and prayers, it has meant the world to me to know how many people are there for me. It has made my time here easier, and it has made it fly by as I get to hear about graduations, engagements, weddings, babies, retirements, and all sorts of other good and exciting news. Even the day to day news, that wouldn’t seem to make headlines, has I have loved hearing. It makes me feel less than a world away from everyone and everything. I could not even begin to list all of you, because the number of family and friends who are looking out for me is so great, but know that I am grateful for you, and for the ways you have helped me. I feel blessed and lucky to have such amazing people in my life. So thank you again, for everything.

Maternity and Women's Center Project

2010-08-28T09:30:00.000-07:00

As a health volunteer, most of my work takes place in or around my health center, or CSCOM. We do animations, which are educational talks or informational, hands-on learning sessions, about pertinent health topics like hand washing, mother and child health, weaning practices, anti-malarial practices, and nutrition. We spend every Thursday doing vaccinations, and I do my part weighing the babies, keeping track of their weights on a chart that indicates the general nutrition of the baby. The CSCOM is where women come for prenatal consultations, for births, and for help with health problems they or their children may encounter postnatal.

The CSCOM is also where people of the 26 surrounding villages come for their own vaccinations, for treatment of all assortment of ailments, for prescriptions, emergencies, and social hour should school be in session.

When asked as a village what Niasso wanted me to help them with, they voted unanimously that a maternity was wanted. A maternity is specifically a birthing center. When I asked about the current birthing situation at the CSCOM, I was informed that after a birth, the mothers must shuffle across the courtyard to the recovery room, blood dripping down their legs, their faces screwed up in a grimace of pain. Anyone sitting in the courtyard that doubles as the waiting room is privy to the happenings of the women who come in for prenatal consultations and births, which they said quite accurately is not clean, does not respect their privacy and just “is not beautiful.”

While beauty is not a real concern, what is alarming is the rate at which mothers are sent home early after giving birth to free beds for other mothers or for people needing to use beds in the recovery room for other treatment. When the mothers are only held for 6 hours after delivery, they need this critical time to rest and recover before going home to return to chores left undone before the approach of birth. Also concerning is the rate at which new born infants are exposed to any germs or bacteria that come into the CSCOM on patients being treated for TB, flu, infections, or the common cold. Furthermore, when Thursday roles around and women come from the surrounding villages by foot for vaccinations and baby weighing, there is not enough space to hold everyone, meaning that many mothers chose to return home as opposed to standing out in the sun and heat until a space frees up. Not only is the women’s health at risk in the current situation, they lose valuable opportunity for learning about health topics covered on vaccination days that would help them to better provide for their families and themselves.

In that vein, I am asking for your help. Currently, my project is on the Peace Corps website, listed under my last name. Please follow this link to donate to the building of a new maternity and women’s center in my village. I know many of you have already helped me in other projects or though your support for me and my time here, but any little thing that you can give can help. This is a big project, but would make a difference infinitely larger. My sincerest thank you for your help.

Birth

2010-08-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

Wednesday morning, I had gone to the CSCOM to greet Alima, the midwife and the rest of the CSCOM employees. When I arrived, it was quiet and I was able to greet the people I wanted to, including our pharmacist, Bah and our secretary and vaccinator, Koniba. We also recently got a new Chef de Poste (CSCOM boss) and I was surprised to see her in the office, already at work. I spent a few minutes with Alima’s children, Bonnie, Abu, Laji and Le who were playing around the house, excited to show me the new Tungaro babies (ducklings).

I was getting ready to head back to my house after talking with Alima for quite a while when a man and woman drove up on a moto. Alima took one look at the woman and looked at me, quietly informing me that she was there to give birth. I have only seen one birth before and it was a bit traumatic. Te baby had been a still born and the process was harsh and sad, and I had been pretty apprehensive about having to be around the CSCOM afterwards. While it had lead to a great conversation with Alima about the way they do things here and why, it was an experience I will be happy to never repeat, one that I wish I hadn’t experienced to begin with.

But that was months ago, and this was the first birth I had been around for since coming back to village. I timidly asked Alima if I could be involved, which really just means watching since I can’t actually handle any tools and frankly, probably couldn’t help if I was allowed to. Of course, she said I should follow her, and while Alima prepped the tools and the area, I spoke with the mother, asking her name (Bintou) and where she was from (Solosso). Bintou had two other sons, Mamadou and Bakary, and although I didn’t ask her age, I would guess she was about 22. She patiently answered my questions, quiet otherwise, grimacing every so often with the pain of the impending delivery.

Alima checked the baby’s positioning and spoke softly to the mother, who was still laying quietly on the table, her hand searching for something to grip to steady herself against the pain. While I could tell that she was obviously hurting, she never let on that she was anything more than uncomfortable, her breathing short and even, her voice never lifting about a whisper.

Alima pawed gently at Bintou’s protruding belly, “calling the baby out,” and continued to check the progress of the delivery. With out much notice, suddenly the woman’s face screwed up in a spasm of concentration, and the birth commenced. As Alima was able to see the baby coming, she instructed me to place the fabric that would be the baby’s first blanket on the floor, the only other smooth and even surface in the room. When I looked again at the pair, Alima was receiving the baby’s head, cradling it in her left hand. With a quick motion, se stabilized the baby’s head and shoulders and began to pull gently, as the mother did her part, pushing silently. While her movement reminded me briefly of a game of tug of war with the family dog over a rope toy, Alima was practiced and ready, pulling the baby all the way out. She quickly checked the baby’s breathing, and began to work to clamp the umbilical cord. The baby was silent, and fearing a repeat of last time, I held my breath until I heard a faint whimper. The baby was a boy, and as I brought the fabric to the table, Alima wrapped him up, and gently scrubbed his head and body. She placed the wrapped baby on the floor again, then finished up the birth, collecting the placenta in another large piece of fabric to be taken by the midwife.

I asked about the baby not crying, since my only other experiences with birth were through movies when the baby screamed immediately after meeting the world. Alima wisely said that the baby might not be crying now, but that in a few minutes he’d begin to make noise. And she was right. The mother’s help, an older woman from her family had come just after the baby did, with clothing, extra food and blankets for the mother and baby who would be spending the next 6 hours at the CSCOM. I watched the baby as Alima and the other woman helped the mother to dress. While he had been quite pale when I first saw him, he was beginning to gain some good color, and I wiped the afterbirth still in his hair. He squirmed and made some noise, though he never cried out. The mother and baby were relocated to the recovery room, and that was it. Twenty minutes from the moment the woman pulled up on the back of the moto, she was laying in the recovery room, dozing with her new baby boy in her arms.

In a society that seemingly values women as baby production units, it was amazing to watch this young woman fulfill her duty, her sense of pride and obligation twined together. While it would be easy to fault this society for its treatment of women, it took be by surprise, and made me step back to reevaluate my feelings. Malian women are the gateway to life and are valued as such, given a gift that the men will never have, the ability to provide their larger family units with invaluable life, a new link in the chain.

Back in Mali/1 year in

2010-08-07T11:48:00.000-07:00

Today, August 7, is my second day back in Mali, after a 4 week visit home. I have not really had time to fully process the whole thing, but I can certainly say this: coming back was hard. Well, I suppose it is more that leaving home again was hard. I have only had a couple of days here, and they have only been in Bamako and in San, so I cannot really say how the transition will go.

As many people reassured me before I came home, nothing there has really changed. I suppose a few businesses had closed, and each of my friends had gone through a year’s worth of events. But everyone is still there, still healthy, still living their lives. I was lucky enough to have the chance to see a bunch of friends that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to, as well as the chance to spend time with my closest friends and family. The wedding was beautiful, and all of the event leading up to it were so much fun.

In leaving again, I know better what I am getting myself into. I know the language better than I did a year ago. I know my village, my work partners, my fellow volunteers, and I know that I only have a year to go. I know that according to other volunteers, the second year goes by much faster and can hold some of the best times of a volunteer’s service.

Knowing all of these things and more gets me excited to be back. But of course, it didn’t really make it any easier to leave or to say good bye. Because with the knowledge of language and culture that comes as a second year volunteer, I also know the sad and hard parts of being a single volunteer in a small village in the middle of West Africa. I don’t look forward to reliving some of the harder moments of being alone, or not being able to connect or having absolutely no control of 90% of my life.

I hope that in the time I have had here and in the time that I have had away, I have gotten stronger and will be better equipped to deal with the not so great days. I am certain that this year will bring change and excitement and new experience, just as the last year did.

Stepping off of the plane on Thursday night, I could smell the same smells that hit me a year ago. The rainy season scent will always remind me of our first months of Mali, the trainings, the time at Tubani So (our training facility), the excitement of new relationships and learning. The smell that comes in with rainy season brings memories of moving into my new home, of running through torrential downpours on my way to the bus, of traipsing through my first San market.

So here’s to one more year, one more cold season, one more hot - thank goodness! - and all that this next year will bring.

Fundraiser

2010-08-07T11:47:00.000-07:00

While I was at home for the month, I was able to have a fundraiser to help out my local first cycle school purchase school supplies. With a lot of help from my mom and good friend Christo, we were able to have live music and drinks at The Anchor Tavern in Everett on Hewitt. A very big thank you to everyone who came or who donated after the date. Thanks to all of you, we were able to raise over $1000 to help supply the children of Niasso with school supplies. An extra big thank you to my mom, Pam Jones, along with Christo Sedgewick and the Sepals and The Anchor.

4thof July, Manantali

2010-08-07T11:42:00.000-07:00

Its strange to think that a year ago, I was spending Independence day with my family on Stretch Island. Of course, this year was much different, but it was still a great time. A large group of us all traveled to Manantali, a town on the west side of Mali. Manantali is located on the Bafing River, and the Peace Corps house, our base for the weekend, is like a camp site, looking out over the river, and surrounded by trees. The ride out to Manantali takes you through Kita, and then about 100k past it. The road to Kita is paved and while windy, is really pretty nice. Just past Kita, though, the road turns into a bumpy, tumultuous dirt road. On our journey, while we were lucky to have Peace Corps transport, we got drenched with seasonal rains. Our car, a relatively new 4x4, swam through the muck and mess. We finally arrived, the mattresses atop the car soaked through.

We spent the first evening watching the World Cup games at the local American club. The next day, we went for a hike up into the hills around the village, where we got to see some great views of town and the river. On our way down, we saw monkeys up where we had been sitting, playing in the trees. Later, we went to the river, until the hippos across the way disappeared under the water, which we took as our cue to take our leave. Apparently hippos are extremely territorial and aggressive, even though they are not carnivorous.

The next day was July 4th, which we spent hanging out, recovering from the day before and then playing down at the river. The current was fast, and if you planned it well, you could jump in up stream and float down past the rocks to a prefect resting point. After lunch, we played games, went to the American club for ping pong and foosball and pool, and then spent the rest of the day having our own Olympics and dancing the night away.

The ride back to Bamako was much less fun and exciting as the ride out, but we made it back in one piece, and in one day.

Sangue Mo

2010-08-07T11:31:00.000-07:00

Every year, as the rains are looming, the town of San gathers for their Sangue Mo festival, which loosely translated means ripe waters. It is a week-long, fishing festival held from Sunday to Sunday in the middle of June. The whole town, and residents from closely neighboring towns as well as the few who come over from Burkina Faso, gather to celebrate the harvesting of the Niger river. All week, the town is ripe with the sounds of motorcycles, blazing up and down the roads, louder than usual having taken off their tailpipes. The young men on the bikes have even taken all of their extra parts off so that they can go faster, popping wheelies and all sorts of other maneuvers. I can honestly say that I have never been so close to getting run over in my whole life.

On the Thursday of the festival week, everyone of the town gathers together at the edges of the Niger, waiting for the fishing to begin. Many people are dressed in the festival clothing, a blue and purple fabric with the images of the festival printed on it, as well as images of the sacred tree and well of San. First, we wait on the bank of the river, as the crowds begin to multiply, their nets and flags in the air. The dugutigi (village chief) comes forward with his net, into the water. It isn’t deep, but he trudges further in, until the water is to his knees. He makes a loud cry, swings his net up into the air and then back down to the water, a massive cheer rising up from the surrounding crowd. The nets that they are using are made from a wood frame, a circle with four pieces of wood rising up from the edges to meet in a sort of triangle. From this structure hangs a net made of rope. To catch the fish, the frame is pushed into the water and deep into the mud, then hands are used to find the fish in the net and trap it between the net and the ground.

As soon as the dugutigi had caught his first fish, the crowd erupted into a giant cheer, thee official fired his gun, and the rest of the crowd rushed the waters. The rest of the town spent the remainder of the afternoon in the water, the men and children catching fish, the women celebrating each catch and anointing themselves in the water. Many of the people continued the festivities late into the afternoon and evening. Everyone passing on the street wanted to know if we had caught fish, and were excited to hear that we at least went in the water.

Djenne

2010-06-23T10:52:00.000-07:00

I am just returning from a trip up north to Djenne with some friends. Djenne is a small island surrounded by the Bani river. The architecture is very distinct, very un-Malian. The northern African influence on the city is evident in the two story buildings reminiscent of Morocco or Tunisia. It is also the home of the world’s largest mud mosque. We took transport from my friend Esther’s village to Djenne on Monday, their market day. Our transport was a cattle truck, filled up to the brim with sacks of charcoal and beans and millet, and boxes of tea. We sat atop the market wares, the wind in our hair. (Don’t worry, mom, I wore sunscreen.) The ride itself really only took a couple hours, including the barge trip to cross onto the island. As we waited in line, we watched the men on horseback forge the river. The horse in the back of the line was obviously less healthy and seemed to struggle to cross the water, but they all made it through, prancing out of the water on the other side.

When we got to Djenne, it was mid morning. We strolled around the town as the people were beginning to set up their market stalls. Immediately, we were pegged as tourists and so many people began to follow us around, selling random souvenirs and offering their guide services. It was funny that even when we spoke to them in Bambara, they didn’t relent. Usually that works for us here in San, or even in Bamako. We were able to connect with two other volunteers who live in the area, or near it, and they played our guides for the rest of the day. We had lunch at a campemont, and then went to the center of market to look around. We wandered around the mosque, which is supposed to be closed to non-Muslims, although for the right price off course, the rules can be bent.

We got to see the library, which is in the middle of a project to collect ancient manuscripts that have been left in homes around the city. They estimate that there are about 10,000 manuscripts through out the whole area, but they have only been able to collect about 3,000. The project is about 2 years old, and will continue as more manuscripts become available. The works are written in Arabic characters, but in the languages of Bambara, Djenneke, and Peul. The man at the library explained that at the time the manuscripts were written, the languages used hadn’t been alphabetized yet and therefore were not in written form yet. He also explained that they are in the process of scanning all of the works to be electronically catalogued. Currently, the books are being housed in cabinets organized by family. More manuscripts will become available as families allow them to be. The families must locate all members and get them to agree to relinquish the works before they can be taken in by the library. Our guide also explained that one of the more difficult parts of the project was finding someone who could type, read, and translate the Arabic characters and the languages they are written in, as well as use a computer.

Our journey to Djenne concluded as the rains began. The men began to load the trucks up, and once they were loaded, we scrambled up on top of the goods and pulled a tarp over ourselves. The ride home was extremely long on account of the wait at the river crossing. We were treated to some very cool lightening storms, had a great sing along to the amusement of the Malians on the ride with us, and were witness to a fight over the tarp covering us and protecting us from the rain, which was most unusual because Malians tend to be some of the most level headed people. I guess everyone gets cranky at the end of a wet, muddy ride, especially when that 40k ride took about 4 hours. Suffice it to say we had an adventure.

Teriya Bugu

2010-06-07T09:13:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a little San Kaw vacation (Kaw is people of, like people from my village, Niasso, are Niasso Kaw) to Teryia Bugu, a resort-type place located on the Bani River, between San and Bla. Jen had been before with her mom when she was here for a visit. Since part of our group is getting ready to finish their service, we went for a weekend together.

Teryia Bugu, described to me by our cross cultural trainer in pre-service training as paradise, was just that. With beautiful river views and a multitude of big, leafy trees, we spent three days relaxing by the pool, walking through the jatropha groves, and just generally enjoying ourselves. There were peacocks wandering around the grounds, and lots of other beautiful birds singing from the trees surrounding the pool. Which, might I mention, had a huge slide!

After spending most of the second day at the pool, reading, playing, napping, we strolled through the town of Teryia Bugu, down a road lined with Eucalyptus and mango trees. Later, we treated ourselves to a very nice dinner, and ended the night with a bon fire under the stars and s’mores.

Of course, it had to come to an end. The HoBo’s, the volunteers who came to Mali the year before us, had a COS conference to get to. (COS - close of service) Amazing to imagine that we’ll be in their shoes a year from now!

If you're interested in more info, check out http://www.tb-mali.com/e-welcome.html