Banankoro, Bambara, and Babies!

As I enter the choke point in traffic just in front of the big Halles de Bamako market, my phone rings.  I check the caller ID and realize I have to answer even though I’m in traffic.  It’s Assana asking if I am still coming tonight.  “Yes, I’m still coming,” I tell him, “I’m sorry I am late, but I am on the route.”  Ok, he says and hangs up, not wanting to waste any more credit than necessary.  I make it through the crazy intersection (luckily I’m turning right, not left) and out of town to the more open road.  Twenty five minutes later, I enter Banankoro and keep my eyes peeled for the small gas station that I use as a landmark to prepare for my turn off leading to the CSCOM.  I have been to the health center enough times that I know where to turn, but I like that when I look just beyond the station I can just see the little building on top of a small hill, the red cross denoting a ‘dogotoroso’ (doctor’s house) poking up above the gas station and the roadside boutiques and confirming I am headed in the right direction.

A Sotrama (public bus) that I saw one day just in front of the
Halles de Bamako... disguised as a Limouzine!

I turn left onto a dirt road and down shift into second gear as the terrain gets bumpy.  I steer the car through a crumbling cement gate that seems to serve no purpose other than to guide me and remind me where the “road” is.  At the top of the hill, Nanaisha, the midwife, and Doumbia, the technicien de sante*, seem to be waiting for me.  They are seated under the hangar outside the CSCOM with a few other villagers.  I stop the car and greet them… “Good afternoon.  How are you?  How is your family?  And your children?  It has been a little while!” They return the greetings, and after a minute of this exchange, the attention shifts to my car.  It is the second time Nanaisha has seen it, but still she is excited and amazed that I am driving.  “You’re going to give it to me when you leave,” she says.  “Sure,” I say.  “I’ll give it to your for $2,000!”  We both laugh and she gives me a high five of a hand shake, sealing the joke between us.  I apologize that I can’t stay long because I need to get to Salif’s house soon, so I hop back in my car and make my way a few hundred meters down the main road to the Coulibaly compound. 

As I enter the compound, I greet the family members milling around the courtyard.  This will be my first night in my new home away from home in Banankoro.  The Coulibaly family has been extremely generous by offering me a room anytime I come to the village to work (if only it was so easy to find a place in Bamako…. ).  This concession is home to Salif, one of the community health workers for the prenatal education program I work with.  He lives just near the main road with his parents, his wife, their four children, several of his brothers, a gaggle of young kids, and a handful of other people who are most likely related, but I’m not yet sure how (and I may never be).  Papa Coulibaly offers me a chair and after exchanging greetings, he begins to tell me about how bad the Maiga’s are**.  I beat him at his own game, however, by asking how the Maiga’s can be bad if they bring gifts… and I procure a cheap plastic bag that contains a kilo of bananas and a kilo of sugar.  A grin appears on his face and he begins to hand out bananas to the children and show off the bag of sugar.  “Aissata brought all of this sugar!” he announces, “Now we will really be able to drink good coffee,” he adds to me as an aside (Malian coffee is really just watery powdered milk with a lot of added sugar and just enough instant Nescafe to make it slightly brown). 

I go through the greetings with other family members and ask the children if they want to eat bananas.  Then I ask if they like to eat bananas.  My Bambara abilities nearly exhausted, I ask where Salif is.  “He is in the garden.  He will be back soon,” I am told.  I sit patiently, proud of all the things I just asked in Bambara and actually a little bit surprised by what I am able to understand and say now.  The high continues as I realize that Papa Coulibaly is concerned that I’ve left my car outside of the concession near the road.  I agree to move it and he tells me he can do it.  Unable to really refuse this old man who is giving me a home, I willingly agree and we go out to the car together.  I unlock the door and help him adjust the seat… he checks his mirrors and starts the engine on the first shot (sometimes it takes me 2 tries when the car hasn’t been used in a while).  We reverse and make it in to the compound with little difficulty, but lots of fanfare as the whole swarm of children from the compound follows us and a crowd of outsiders is attracted as the old Malian man drives the strange toubabou in her little car.   

My room 'chez Coulibaly' in Banankoro

We get out of the car and I carry my backpack into the small but pleasant room where I will stay the night.  When I return to the concession, Papa Coulibaly is motioning me over to show me something… it is his ancient driver’s license!  He used to be a chauffeur, he explains to me, and sure enough, there are his certifications from the 1970s saying he can drive even the big trucks!  The best part is that his birthday is listed as “envers 1945” (around 1945), so he is not quite as old as I might have guessed.  After a moment inspecting the old driver’s license, Salif arrives and my attention shifts again to greetings and then chatting with him.  I learn about his wife and his four kids- the oldest is 15 and the youngest is 4.  I didn’t even think he was married!!  I guess he is aging better than his father… I learn a little more about his family- he is one of 11, and I think he tells me that his father has four wives.  This is when my Bambara begins to falter.  I ask questions and get responses that are unintelligible.  The pride that I felt a few minutes earlier fades to frustration and disappointment.  I realize how far I really do have to go and that this living situation will be the real key to truly learning Bambara!  These language skills will be necessary for communication, but things move slowly enough that I can ask and point and ask enough times to begin to understand the words for things. 

Assana, the local school teacher and my liaison, arrives to greet me.  Dinner appears in two large bowls- one for the men and one for women.  Everyone gathers around them except for me… “It’s toh,” Assana explains for me.  I noticeably hesitate before telling them in Bambara “N be se ka toh dun” (I can eat toh!).  Clearly they sense my lack of enthusiasm and after a brief exchange, Assana announces to me in French that they will buy me something else to eat… what do you I want?  I protest, but the decision has already been made, so I at least convince Assana that I will go with him to find some dinner.  Salif and I set out with his daughter, Kadiatou, in tow, and I said a silent blessing for Assana for saving me from toh!  We end up following Assana to his house where his mother sellings rice on the corner.  While Assana washes up, Salif and I sit down in the courtyard to wait.  Shortly after, a TV appears and a crowd of children gathers.  Assana emerges from the “shower” and hooks the TV up to some kind of generator that was loudly operating behind his set of rooms and a great color picture appears on the TV.  So, we sit for 20 minutes watching a Brazilian soap opera dubbed in French that almost no one can understand.  The highlight of the program is when I get the chance to hold a cute baby that everyone is cooing over…. But my excitement is short lived.  While enjoying cute little Sadio, she lets loose, and due to the lack of Malian diapers, I get to wear baby pee on my dress.  “Don’t worry,” Assana assures me.  “Here in Mali we consider this a good sign of luck that soon you, too will have children.”  Great… just what I was hoping for!

We return home, and I convince Salif that I shouldn’t eat alone in my room and settle for eating  alone under a  tree a few feet away from the others in the compound.  I eat my rice with peanut sauce and then find my bucket of warm water waiting for me in the “bathroom.”  I smile as I look up at the stars and dip my hands into the warm water to wash my face, arms, and feet.  But, my smile quickly fades as the warm water dries and I realize how chilly it really is outside at night!  Before I head to bed, I am treated to a practice lesson on malaria prevention during pregnancy.  Salif is scheduled to do an educational session the next morning, so he gets out his stack of images and explains them to me.  I find myself buoyed by the fact that he gives me correct information (as far as I could understand in Bambara), though none of it is very complicated.  I don’t get the feeling that the lesson will be too engaging, and I try to ask questions to get more information and to help him practice.  After a glass of tea with the rest of the onlookers, I excuse myself and tuck into bed in my little stuffy room that smells of kerosene. 

Salif posing with his images describing malaria (in colorful outfit)

The next morning, I wake up and head straight to the negen (bathroom… a structure of 3 ½ dirt walls without a roof that has a hole in the middle for using the bathroom and a hole in the back where wash water runs out), wrapped in a piece of pagne fabric.  It is quite chilly out, and the other compound occupants are dressed in various pieces of warm clothing- kids in old reindeer sweaters, men in hats and jackets, women in oversized old sweatshirts.  I get a lot of looks that say “look at the crazy toubabou” as I wait for some hot water and wash myself before dressing for the day.  Maybe it’s not normal to wash in the morning?  Once I’m clean, I eat my bread and drink my milky sugar coffee water and before 8 am it’s off to the CSCOM. 

When we arrive, not much is happening, so I chat with Nanaisah and begin to greet women as they arrive.  At around 9am, Assana decides that enough people have gathered and he instructs Salif to start the educational session.  The women gather round, moving chairs and benches around a giant pile of expired medical supplies and trash in order to get a view of Salif as he talks and me as I hold the pictures (ever the lovely assistant).  I try to get the ball rolling by giving my best “Aw ni sogoma” (“Good morning!”) and greeting the women.  Usually this attempt at Bambara gets a laugh and wins some support if nothing else.  My ploy seems to work, and the women appear to listen to what Salif is saying.  From what I can gather in Bambara, the explanations go well, although they are none too engaging or in-depth, as I predicted.  Much to my dismay, no one has questions at the end of the presentation and I am too nervous to try to pose a query in Bambara. 

The animatrice from Marie Stopes giving a lesson on IUDs to
women as they wait for vaccinations 

The real eye-opener comes as our presentation is follow by a woman from Marie Stopes International, visiting the CSCOM to do a program on family planning and specifically on IUDs.  She carries on for nearly thirty minutes- talking, asking questions, showing examples of family planning products.  The numbers of the women and babies increase, and now they even become engaged in the discussion- laughing and asking questions or shouting out answers to the instructor’s inquiries.  Even Nanaisha, the midwife, gets involved in this “causerie” and spurs the women to laughter, leaving me wondering about what she said and frantically noting this question in my handy dandy notebook. 

By the end of the Marie Stopes presentation, at least 75 women have assembled based on my estimates, and the area beneath the hangar is teeming with women and babies all bundled up against the cold (that seems to be diminishing pretty quickly, if you ask me…. ).  By now, there is a constant din of noise: fussing, suckling, cooing, crying, the occasional shout, and lots and lots of coughing.  The vaccinator, Ali, begins vaccinations by calling the first lucky baby’s name.  I look at the table covered with haphazard stacks of small and large cards in pink and yellow and wonder about the organizational system- is there one?  How is he keeping the records straight?  How on earth do they know who is next??  These questions don’t seem to be bothering the many women waiting outdoors with babies on their backs and no chairs to sit in. 

I adopt a similar air of confidence in the “system,” and take my place next to Ali.  For the next several hours, I follow his lead and act as his assistant.  I weigh babies and shout their weights to him as he administers vaccines to other children who cry in their mothers’ arms.  Sometimes he instructs me to give the babies an oral polio vaccination (2 drops on the tongue) or a Vitamin A supplement.  In these cases, I rip open the plastic ampule with my teeth as Ali does and squeeze the flavored gel into a baby bird mouths.  After I weigh the baby and give my oral supplement, Ali gives the child a shot in the theigh, records it, and we move on.  It’s a bit hard to use the sling for chunky babies or those who want to bend their legs and resist, then sometimes, they’re top heavy and tilt forward so it’s hard to get a good reading of their weight!  I also eventually work out a system where I give the polio or Vitamin A after Ali gives a shot because this way the child is already crying and I don’t have to struggle to the little one to open its mouth!

Ali recording a vaccination as mothers look on.
The big mountain of boxes and trash in the background is all
expired and used medical products!
Something must be done about this!

After a lot of weighing and poking and squirting of oral supplements, Ali disappears.  The crowd that has been shockingly patient and calm up until this point begins to get restless and I begin to get impatient, too.  I escape a mother accosting me about why her daughter didn’t get weighed even though she’s less than six months old and make it to the nurse’s room in the CSCOM.  Ali and his daughter are hiding out inside eating- taking their time even though women are outside waiting without even as much as a place to sit!  The mood changes when we finally get back to business and when a woman’s name is called, she rushes to get the baby off her back and find the quickest path to the table in the center where we’re working.  “You’re the next contestant on The Price Is Right!”

The routine begins to get old and I am getting tired of fussy babies and yelling weights to Ali and trying to figure out which child gets polio, which gets Vit. A, who needs to be weighed… I get the feeling I am just supposed to be picking up on these things.  I am amazed that Ali doesn’t have the children’s actual birthdates recorded… he asks the ages and then uses me to help calculate the birthdate based on the age in days. While trying to do mental math, I look around me and do a little more mental calculating… at any given moment, I can probably see 10 visible breasts busy feeding or pacifying babies.  I see two kiddos playing with old plastic packaging near the mountain of expired and used medical supplies that I have vowed to myself will be removed before I leave Mali.  Finally, we are down to the last 25 or so… there is a moment of complete silence which is utterly bizarre, and then the noise starts in again.  When we make it down to 10 moms, Ali starts picking up cards, reading them, and sending the owners home.  He has run out of vaccines and they will have to come back the next month for the next vaccination day.  I get the sense that it’s not urgent. 

I go into the CSCOM, remove my shoes, and sit down on a woven plastic mat next to the aide-soignante.  Nanaisha is splayed on the bed and she taps some powdered laundry soap into my hands and pours water over them so that I can wash them before eating.  When everyone is clean, a young girl enters bearing a BIG bowl of rice, and I am amazed at her timing in what seems to be such a chaotic world in Mali.  I am grateful to be learning to find the order in this chaos.  And I eat.


* A technicien de sante is like the equivalent of an LPN in Mali.  A Technicien Superieur is like an RN.  They both go through three years of training after high school to become health professionals.  The biggest difference is that a Technicien Superieur's training is a bit more rigorous because he or she has actually graduated from high school and passed the BAC (a type of degree).  Techniciens de Sante only have to prepare the CAP, a professional diploma, which does not require as much high school or as much rigorous preparation.

**Papa Coulibaly says that Maiga's are bad because Coulibaly's and Maiga's are joking cousins.  Joking cousin relationships ease ethnic tensions in Mali and members of specific ethnicities (certain family names belong to certain ethnicities) joke with other ethnic groups.  Everyone jokes with the Coulibaly's (this name is the 'Smith' of Mali)!  The most popular series of jokes is telling people that they eat beans (and thus fart a lot).  You get the idea-- it's quite fun!

'Tis the Season?

This morning, I started listening to Christmas music.  It’s not December 1^st, but it’s close enough and I needed a little pick-me-up, so Christmas music just seemed appropriate.  I am a huge fan of Christmas, and the music of the season, but I must admit that it feels odd to listen to “White Christmas” while I’m sitting in front of a fan, drinking ice water and really dreaming of vanilla ice cream…. But, it is the beginning of Christmas season, and the height of a string of holidays, both national and personal, here in Mali.

Me with "dinner"

My holiday season began two weeks ago with the celebration of the Muslim holiday, Tabaski.  Eid al-Adha, in Arabic, is called “Seli-ba” in Bambara, and is sometimes referred to as the “Festival of Sacrifice,” or more simply, the “Holiday of the Sheep.”  The celebration is based on the story of Abraham, who demonstrated his willingness to sacrifice his son, Ishmael, but was instructed by Allah to sacrifice a goat instead (read more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tabaski).  For weeks leading up to the “fete,” it was all anyone talked about.  If you took a taxi and asked the driver, “Ca va?” (How’s it going), he would likely reply, “Ca va un peu” (It’s kind of okay).  I would always push—“Seulement un peu?” (Only a little ok?).  “Comme il n’y a pas d’argent” (Because there is no money), is often a common answer, but it was almost ubiquitous the week leading up to the Tabaski celebration.  The holiday has turned in to one of great expense.  New outfits, fancy hair do’s, and the cost of food aren’t skimped on during Tabaksi.  Each family hopes to buy a sheep, and thus the market spaces that are usually empty save for some stray garbage and a few produce stalls fill with sheep of every size and color.  The price of these animals shoots up as demand rises, and the longer you wait, the more you can expect to pay for your sheep.  However, of course, the earlier you buy your sacrificial animal, the longer you have to house it, feed it, and care for it, and (if you’re like me), the longer you have to make friends with your future dinner L! 

Oumou and me dressed in our holiday finest

I was at my family’s house when our sacrificial sheep arrived.  He was quite a big guy and he showed up in the trunk of our car.  It was amusing to see him pulled out in the road, stashed in the courtyard, and later moved to the outdoor bathroom briefly.  My youngest sister, Bibi, and I amused ourselves by pretending to be rams, butting heads and chasing each other in the courtyard.  But, mostly, my family thought I was crazy for taking so many pictures of what was to become dinner about a week later.  Indeed, on the morning of the fete, I arrived at my family’s home at about 8:30 (the roads were the most empty I have EVER seen them!  Everyone was spending time with their families and making their sacrifices or going to the mosque), in time to witness the slaughter of the sheep, which took place in the street outside our front door with little fanfare.  The majority of the day was spent preparing different parts of the sheep as it was butchered and chopping lots of veggies to accompany the meat (that was my job!).  Finally, at around 5:30, I showered and put on my fancy new ‘bazin’ outfit.  My sisters eventually changed, too, and we sat around and visited with each other and friends and family members who came by in their holiday finest to greet us, give blessings, and ask for forgiveness. 

The traditions that took place throughout the day were quite interesting and reminded me of a good mix of American holiday traditions.  First, I was reminded of Thanksgiving… everyone kept talking about how well I would eat on Tabaski, and indeed, the whole day centered around eating!  I was stuffed by the time I went home at 9pm.  However, we spent most of the day lounging in comfortable clothes and eating a little at a time as we prepared all the mutton- a little like the lounging in PJ’s that goes on at my house on Christmas.  Like both these American holidays, Tabaski is a serious family day—people travel all over the country and even the region to reunite with their families in their villages and home towns to celebrate.  So, we have one part Thanksgiving and one part Christmas.  Add a dash of Halloween—as little children get all dressed up (in fancy clothes, not masks) and go door to door asking for pocket change and collecting offerings they are given when they properly recite some of the many holiday blessings.  Finally, throw in a bit of Lent/Easter, where Christians ask for forgiveness, and you get closer to the composition of Tabaski.  Muslims are very generous with the blessings on this special day (not that they usually aren’t), and I learned to fake my way along greeting and blessing everyone I saw that day and several days afterward.

With Zak in front of the Arch in Siby

Our camping spot- so peaceful

Following Tabaski, I recovered with a bit of a personal holiday.  My friend, Zak, and I drove about 40 minutes outside of the city to Siby, a small town known for its Shea butter production, it’s waterfall (during the wetter times of the year) and most of all, the Manding Hills and the Arch of Kamandjan (Supposedly created by the mythical hero, Sundiata!  Read more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siby).  The cliffs are beautiful, and I feel very lucky that they are so close to Bamako.  Zak and I hiked up to the arch, took some photos and appreciated the beauty and calm, and then hurried down to set up camp before dark.  The night was lovely, and the full moon was so bright we barely used the flashlights we brought along.  We basked in the moonlight on a great flat rock beneath a rock formation, and the next morning, we set off to see the water falls.  Unfortunately, we didn’t know exactly where we were going, we were a bit tired after a night of fitful sleep on rocky terrain, and my ’89 Corolla is not quite a four wheel drive vehicle…. So we made it most of the way up a 17km off road “road” in the hills and tried to hike to the falls before giving up and heading back to Bamako.  We made a brief stop at a lookout point that Zak’s dad helped construct, way back when, and were happy to make it home to Zak’s mom’s Fakoui, refreshing showers, and a touch of A/C (at Zak’s house).  The trip outside of Bamako made the frustrating moments of my week a little easier to bear. 

My attempt at an "artistic" view of the Thanksgiving table

Next on the holiday docket was Thanksgiving.  I started the holiday early on Wednesday night by cooking dinner with two friends, Jennifer and Bodil, and having a sleepover with them at Jennifer’s place.  On Thursday, the three of us went across the neighborhood to the house of a couple of friends where we cooked up a storm.  I am proud to report that we made even more of a spread than we sometimes have at my own house on Thanksgiving!!  Turkey (two of my friends cared for “Albert” and fattened him up for several days before Turkey Day), mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, homemade stuffing, cranberry jelly, corn pudding, green bean casserole, rolls, caramelized onions, homemade gravy, homemade lime sorbet with cranberry juice, Jennifer’s Memaw’s pepper jelly, deviled eggs, pumpkin pie, apple pie, and homemade vanilla ice cream!! (I think that covers it all)  Unfortunately, however, I missed the actual dinner portion of the day because I headed over to eat at the Ambassador’s house, an invitation I had accepted before making plans to attend my “Friendsgiving.”  While her turkey was moist and meaty, the Ambassador’s stuffing came from a box and her pumpkin pie was from a can (though there was real whipped cream).  I was expecting a fancier meal, but the company was great (the ambassador herself, another Fulbrighter that I hadn’t yet met, and lots of Peace Corps volunteers), and it felt quite special to be at the Ambassador’s house!

Jennifer, Me, and Bodil before the Thanksgiving feast

I had much to be thankful for on Thanksgiving this year, and I did get a little emotional at a few moments.  But, I can happily say that it really felt like a holiday even in this place where people conceptualize Thanksgiving simply as “the celebration of the turkey.”  I was surrounded by a lot of love from some wonderful new friends, and I had the opportunity to skype with my whole family after they ate their Thanksgiving meal!  I am thankful for my wonderful family and friends, and all the support they give me.  I am thankful for this amazing opportunity I have to live in a vibrant place and a different culture, to meet new people, to learn, and to grow.  I am grateful that each day I do something a little different than the last, but I always come home to a comfortable home and a good meal- sometimes even with friends! 

Cows being herded across the river

This weekend, I was lucky enough to go on another short ‘holiday’ with some of those friends!  We set out for a two night trip to Segou and a village called Djefarabé.  The occasion was a Festival of Cattle Crossing.  This is a big celebration held each year when thousands of cows are herded from one side of the Niger River to the other in search of “greener pastures.”  The Fulani ethnic group has traditionally used this event as a sort of family gathering/reunion, and an opportunity to arrange marriages between children of the different herding families.  Now, it is a festival and a mini tourist event involving music, dancing, firing of guns, swimming cows, and lots of photos.  We attended the morning festivities, though cows were still swimming across the river when we left in the afternoon!  The trip was also a wonderful opportunity to relax in Segou, a city that I find to be calmer and cleaner than Bamako.  I admired the starry sky, enjoyed a nice hotel with A/C and hot water, had delicious pizza and a tasty espresso, did a little shopping, heard some live music for free, and visited with new friends I’ve made here in Bamako. 

More cow herding/chasing

Beautiful Fulani girls at the Cattle Festival

As I find myself in the midst of this holiday season, I sometimes feel a bit sad that I can’t be celebrating with my friends and family as I usually do.  It is a bummer that I will not have a Christmas tree or a white Christmas.  However, nothing will stop me from making Christmas cookies or listening to holiday tunes!  I consider myself lucky to have the opportunity to celebrate new holidays that we don’t usually hear about in the states, and because of all the great friends I’ve made here, I know that I will never have to celebrate my American holidays alone!  In all honesty, over the past weeks I have been reminded of the basic principles at the root of most holidays, family and food.  It is comforting that so many of my holiday traditions are not quite so different from those of many Malians, even if our celebrations have different purposes or roots!  During this holiday season, it won’t be difficult for me to celebrate with food and loved ones, or to practice some old traditions and create some new ones.  It’s just too bad it won’t be quite as easy to find Christmas music on the radio!

Christmas is Coming!!!

The Christmas tree in our living room last year :)

I know… we haven’t even celebrated Thanksgiving yet, and honestly, it feels nothing like Christmas season when you’re sweating the day away in 90 degree heat.  I haven’t even started listening to my favorite Christmas tunes…  However, Christmas really is approaching.  When I lived upstairs at the mission (my first apartment that you saw photos of), there was a book in the bathroom called “76 Ways to Get Ready For Christmas.”  It was such a hilarious book (Why 76 ways and not 75 or even 100?... Who buys such a book?  Who publishes such a book?  The questions abound...), and I really wanted to take it, but I felt guilty since this is a mission and all… The book was basically about things to do and ways to manage your time to prepare for the greatest of all holidays!  To paraphrase the whole book…. Start early! 

Sweet throw-back photo I found on my
computer.  Christmas circa 1992?

I admit, this is kind of a shameless plug for Christmas packages... but you have to start extra early if you want to mail Christmas gifts across the ocean… (hint hint).  Christmas is such a wonderful holiday, and I still plan to celebrate fully even though I am in Africa.  I love Christmas cards and photos, and you can send those things to my address on the right hand side of the page.... à

If you would like to send something a little extra special to me that won’t fit in an envelope or pass the 2 lb weight limit, you can!  Please send any and all goodies to my parents and they will forward the items on to me here in Mali.  They need everything by around December 1 so that they can get a package ready and mail it out by the end of the first week of the month since it takes some time to get over to Mali (they don’t call it snail mail for nothing… ).  I would love any reminders of you and of home, photos, mix CDs (or cassettes- I have a tape player!!), taco seasoning or other similar packets, oreos, salty snacks, magazines, DVDs, cheese/fake cheese products (extra props if you can figure out how to mail me sharp cheddar… ), Of course, any mail is exciting!

So, to recap:  Send any/all Christmas package items by DECEMBER 1 to:

                        Mike and Becca Moore

                        209 Hillsdale Ave.

                        Greencastle, IN 46135  

Thanks in advance!  Oh, and check out the new Picassa photos!! J

Nom Nom!  Think Christmas cookies are mail-able?  It's worth a shot!  Maybe just frosting would be better?

It's All Relative!

Me in a new Malian complet!

The title says it all… in the past couple of weeks since I’ve written (Has it been that long?!?  Sorry, friends!) I have truly learned that everything is relative depending on what your basis of comparison may be.  For example, Malians are now beginning to talk regularly about the upcoming cold season.  I have seen men wearing puffy coats in the mornings and mothers who have put knitted caps on the babies they have strapped to their backs.  It is the wind that accompanies the cool air that causes people to get sick, Malians like to tell me as we make small talk in a taxi or while we wait for a meeting to begin.  I have chuckled at these statements and predictions of “chilly” weather and puzzled at the warm clothes people wear when I am still sweating through t-shirts and continuing to “glisten” on a daily basis.  However, the other morning, I woke up early and hopped in the shower to get my day started.  I turned on my cold water (I don’t have a water heater), and the water didn’t feel quite as refreshing as usual.  I actually gasped at the chilliness of the stream and when I got out of the shower and dried off I was truly cold!  That morning, I chose a complet (Malian skirt and top set with matching head wrap) that had sleeves, because I just couldn’t seem to warm up!  Unfortunately, I can’t say the feeling lasted long… that afternoon, sitting in the dark CSCOM examination room holding a baby, sweat ran down my legs and I longed for a fan or some moving air.

My Malian Taxi costume

I had my first “cold” experience in Mali a few days after Halloween when I attended a conference at the Radisson Hotel.  (Side note: Halloween was tons of fun!  I went to two parties dressed as a Malian taxi, and the costume was a hit!  On Saturday night the “after party” went on until the wee-hours and I danced my yellow and black buns off until 4am at a Malian night club!)  I was lucky enough to be invited to a USAID conference on maternal and child survival by my Fulbright liaison at the embassy.  For two days I met and interacted with Malian government officials from the Ministry of Health and the Ministry of Development, NGO leaders and presidents from CARE, Save the Children, and Groupe Pivot, Malian and American USAID employees, religious leaders, and directors of the Organization of Islamic Councils!  These were truly the big guns! 

The goal of the conference was to announce a new partnership between USAID and the Organization of Islamic Councils (OIC).  I had never heard of the OIC before the conference, but they are an organization of Islamic leaders throughout Africa, Asia, and the Middle East who meet regularly to train leaders and assert political influence from within the Muslim community.  Their commitment to this project will hopefully mean a lot to Islamic leaders here in Mali, and my sense is they bring religious and political influence to compliment the money and man-power of USAID.  We spend almost all of the first conference day in small groups brainstorming about the principal causes of maternal and infant deaths in Mali, possible resolutions for those problems, and eventually specific activities that could be conducted and groups that might be engaged to solve these problems within 6-18 months!  Talk about a seriously difficult activity!  I felt like I was back at Kenyon in a Van Holde seminar… “Here is a hugely complicated social, cultural, economic, political issue.  Describe the causes of the problem, prioritize their importance, and propose some concrete solutions.  You have 10 minutes, ok- go!”

The conference was quite interesting and I met some really kind people who I believe will prove to be valuable contacts during the course of my project and exploration of maternal and child health in Mali.  It was additionally an interesting look into the way that USAID supports projects and involves local officials in their brainstorming/planning efforts.  I also got delicious free lunch from the Radisson and free pens!  The only down side was… it was cold in that hotel!  I guess I am just not used to A/C anymore, and my fellow Malian conference participants laughed at me as I wrapped my scarf around my shoulders and rubbed my arms to get warm.

My sweet new ride!

That same week, I spent some really wonderful time with several expatriates who are becoming my new friends!! J  I enjoyed lunch with a fellow researcher, Bodil, drinks with a friend from my first trip, Zak, shared another delicious dinner at my friend Jennifer’s house and had another fun and carefree night of dancing at Ibiza.  This week saw several highlights (and a few low-lights).  On Tuesday, I went to meet with some directors at CARE Mali.  They are an international organization who has partnered with USAID to create a very large community health worker program in Mali.  I got a lot of useful literature from their office and got the chance to really think critically about the format of the Banankoro program I’m working with.  Plus, my new friend, Liz, is working at CARE as part of her practicum for a Master’s in Public Health at Tulane, so I got to see her and we spent some time talking “work.”  Then, I went with her to soccer practice with a women’s club team in Mali!  It was so so fun to play soccer, and I was really pleasantly exhausted as I showered off the layers of dust and dirt I accumulated on the field.  I actually said to myself aloud that night, “This has been a good day.”

The fur accessories and the stuffed tiger were included...
what a deal!

Another highlight of the week that many of you have heard about… I bought a car!  Crazy, I know, but I have been looking for a while and found something I consider to be a good deal and a great little car.  I spent a couple afternoons driving with Malian co-pilots and I am comfortable enough to drive to and from my research site outside of town, as well as to a friend’s neighborhood a little way down the main road.  This weekend or early next week I am still hoping to tackle a little more intense traffic and even to cross one of the 2 bridges that separate the city in two!  One of the low points included an afternoon of unsuccessful trips to about 6 different ATMs and the subsequent seizure of my card three times by one of the machines!  I was down to about $10 to my name and I was stressed out a bit until the next morning when I made it to the embassy to get money.  Similarly frustrated sentiments accompanied a trip to the tailor to pick up an outfit I had ordered for the upcoming holiday of Tabaski… the skirt was so long I could have worn it as a strapless dress and the top was so tight that I couldn’t get it over my head!    I managed to get over my frustrations with the help of some friends, deep breathing and positive thinking.  Really, I’ve had a couple of enjoyable weeks and I just have to remember to put things in perspective sometimes because really, it’s all relative!

TGIF

TGIF!  It is a world-wide feeling, I think.  Or at least it translates here in Africa.  I have found that Malians are sometimes even more eager to start the weekend than Americans… the cashier’s office at the Embassy closes earlier, people often leave work at lunch time (usually to go to pray at the mosque, as Friday is the big day for that.  I guess some of them just never make it back to the office?), and I called a friend today who told me he hadn’t even gone in to work!  Of course, I would leave work early on Fridays, too, if I was actually doing anything that resembled 'work'!  The point of this ‘intro’ is not to say that people here don’t work hard (though work ethic could be its own whole blog post), but to remark upon the observation that excitement for the weekend is certainly tangible here, as it is in the states. 

I am looking forward to this weekend!  Last weekend was good, but I was fighting a cold and did a lot of resting.  This week I started off feeling low, but my mood has seemed to improve each day and I am hoping that with the holiday weekend (yes, I WILL be celebrating Halloween in Mali!) the week will culminate with a weekend of fun and new friends!

In the past week, I have done some car and house searching, which have both been the source of some of my frustrations and low points.  The first car I saw was in great condition (i.e. nicer than my car in the states) and had a price tag to match at about $7,000!  Since then, I have seen successively crappier cars, concluding with one I have seriously considered buying—an old 4 door hatchback Corolla that costs about $1,500 (plus some work…. we’re talking $2,000).  I am still waiting on the opinion and estimates of a mechanic before making a decision.  A note about cars in Mali… they are generally more expensive than in the US.  This is because of “dedouanement” (I’m really not sure how to spell that… sounds like day-dwon-you-mant).  “Dedouanement” is basically a very expensive registration tax.  All cars have to be registered when they enter Mali before they can be driven.  Since all cars here are imported from Europe, the US, China, Japan, someone has to pay this tax before they are useable.  So, people who buy new cars and even some used cars are strapped with this extra cost to consider.  The tax itself usually runs $1,000-$2,000.  Oh, and it’s also a pain to get the paperwork, etc. completed, so some of that cost covers the bribes necessary to get your request sent through in weeks instead of months!  I have learned this week that it is worth buying a car that is “dedouaned” even if it doesn’t even run!  That’s because you can put buy a new motor here and have it installed for about $2,000—the same cost you would pay for the inconvenience of getting a new car registered.  Repair work here in general is cheap (I say this before I have to actually pay for work to be done)!  Replacing an axle (which cost about $300 for parts and labor on my Corolla in the states) costs about $10 for the part, and probably an equally minimal amount for the labor because everyone knows how to fix old Toyotas here!

I digress, but I am going to roll with it…. In general, almost anything is fixable here.  In some ways, this is quite refreshing, but in others it is really kind of sad.  In my opinion, it is a positive that people are not throwing things away and buying new replacements just because a part is broken or worn out.  I got rid of a perfectly nice mini-fridge in the states because I damaged the cooling element and it would have cost more to fix it than it did to buy a new fridge!  Here, that would never fly!  You see evidence of this mentality every day.  Driving down the road, you see cars that are so old they are no longer driven in the states.  You see people repairing televisions and computers that are no longer supported at home (they are definitely not digital cable compatible)!  Mechanical skills seem to be valued here more than they are anymore in the states… it doesn’t matter if you can fix cooling units for refrigerators back home, but here, I have friends who know a great “refrigerator guy.”  Of course, all of this also means that many boutiques and repair shops you enter are FULL of piles of parts and often plain junk (think ‘Hoarders’ or ‘American Pickers’).  You never know when you might need a spare axle for a 1978 Toyota Corolla (did they even make Corollas in ’78?)….

Now that I have rambled a bit… A funny story about car searching.  I was riding in the passenger seat of a BRIGHT green Toyota Corolla (this one was a 2-door with a stereo system) while my “car guy,” Malé, was driving along and waxing on about how great the motor was in this particular vehicle (it was a little too expensive, though, at just over $4,000).  All of a sudden, he pulled over into the median because smoke had started billowing out from under the hood on the driver’s side!  Malé and I have not had great luck while looking at cars… the first one we test drove together got side swiped by a Sotrama van when we pulled it out of the used car lot!  I was relieved to find out, however, that nothing terrible had happened.  The smoke was just coming from the battery.  Apparently, they were charging the actual Toyota battery back at the lot, so the owner had replaced it with one too big for such a small car.  The battery was touching the hood of the car, making things hot, and causing a lot of scary looking smoke!

Luckily, not everything this week has been quite as eventful as these test drives.  I had a lovely dinner with new friends on Sunday evening at a Peace Corps Volunteer’s cute little apartment.  I visited the office of a great grassroots NGO where some friends of mine work (check out www.malihealth.org) and had the opportunity to talk “work” a little bit, which was really nice.  I visited with an American friend, Devon, and some Malian friends (host families of Brian and Jackie), and I attended the 10 year old birthday party of my Malian twin cousins.  Yesterday I had a productive morning in the market following a positive Bambara lesson.  In the evening, I ate a delicious meal at the house of some embassy workers and played with a monkey.  Things have been looking up!  Tonight I am dressing up as a Malian taxi (pictures to follow, of course) and heading to a Halloween party hosted by some of my NGO worker friends where we are planning to carve watermelons!  I am looking forward to seeing Halloween pictures from home.  Don't forget to send me updates about what is going on in your lives... being in Africa leaves one feeling a bit out of the loop...

My Ongoing Work: Lessons in Patience

A lot has happened in the week or so since I last wrote!  Time seems to move very slowly here, and I often struggle to fight my American bred impatience.  However, I can’t believe that I have already been here for three weeks (tomorrow)!  It is a little frustrating that I have been here for almost a month without even receiving clearance to start research, but then I reflect on all of the things I have done and remind myself that I really have made progress. 

One thing that has really felt like an accomplishment has been the ability to cook more for myself.  I know it sounds silly and simple, but last week I made spaghetti sauce from scratch and I felt like I had really done something big!  I have also made hamburgers and homemade fries, curried lentils, and some tasty pbjhb (peanut butter and jelly and honey and banana) concocotions.  During my last trip to the market I bought ingredients for squash soup, chili, and mock alfredo sauce (made with laughing cow cheese!).  This morning, I learned how to make Tikka Degen like a real Malian woman!  I spent all morning at Yaya’s with his wife, Assitan.  She taught me to make the peanut sauce (which is really not that tough) and some yummy ginger juice that is really zesty and refreshing.  Next week, I am supposed to prepare sauce by myself she says.  That will really be an accomplishment!  I love that she is teaching me this stuff, because my host family didn’t give me much of a chance when I was here before.  I also think I’m even more interested during this trip in learning as much about how to “be Malian” as I can J

I have also become more comfortable in my neighborhood as of late.  I have made friends with some guys who own an alimentation (small super market) around the corner, and I go there to get milk, yogurt, and some basic groceries.  I have been avoiding the nutella, but I have a feeling I will crack soon… I also finally replaced my crappy old phone with one from a small electronics boutique between my house and Yaya’s.  I stop by and say hello to the guys there every time I walk to and from Yaya’s, and the other day I went there again and bought a nice wall clock that I gave to Yaya and Assitan as a belated wedding gift.  (It’s now hanging in their salon J)  I feel like my Bambara is beginning to improve slightly.  I have had 2 lessons with a Peace Corps instructor that I really like, and I am trying to learn little by little- a couple words every day.  I can’t help but feel impatient about my (lack of) progress with language, though.  I just want to be able to do it!

Though I really enjoy my neighborhood these days, I am hoping to take steps to move into a new place soon.  I am looking for more independence, a sense of ownership over my space, and a level of comfort that I have yet to find at the mission where I am staying.  Also, I feel strongly that I want to be viewed as an independent worker, and not associated with missionaries who stay here during their (often brief) trips to Mali.  I have nothing but positive things to say about the people I have met through the mission, but I don’t think it will help my work to be associated with the missionary community, and I also just do not feel entirely comfortable with the goals and realities of mission trips to Mali.  I have come to love being close to Yaya, and I am looking around the area (very slowly, of course) for potential houses or apartments that are available.  There is one near Yaya that sounds perfect, but I don’t really even know if it’s available and I haven’t seen it yet, so I don’t want to get too excited.  There are also days when I am seriously tempted to move over to a different neighborhood (where Daline lived) where I’d have some American neighbors, a great tailor, and easy access to lots of restaurants and markets. 

Though I haven’t found a place, during the past week, I have visited my first potential house (far too big and far too distant from any friends/major sites), met with a man who is supposed to help find me a car, and started the ball rolling on a room to rent in Banankoro so I can stay in the village while I do research.  Things are moving pretty slowly in Banankoro and with actual research preparation in general.  I went last week to spend time with Assana in Banankoro and he gave me a big walking tour of the village.  I met the chief, the mayor and his secretary, the directors of the public school, and several school teachers.  Assana also took me to the private school where he is director.  Students there pay about $5 a month to attend class in a tiny dirt room where they are 2 to a desk.  However, at the public school, they would likely find themselves in class with 100 other students, rather than 30 something present in each grade at the private school. 

I have been discussing the actual prenatal education program a lot with Dantouma (my doctor colleague, the program facilitator).  He recently gave me a financial report for more background and I found out that they have exhausted all the funding that Nora secured through grants.  Thus, the community health workers (“relais”) are no longer getting their salaries, which explains a downturn in the number of women enrolled in the program and a lack of relais participation at the last weekly meeting (2 of 5 were present).  I am a little nervous about what this will mean for my research.  I feel as though the community is looking to me for guidance for funding, and I want to be able to help make the program more sustainable, but I need to stick first to my primary goal of evaluation.  I met my official Fulbright affiliate this week (a very nice and intelligent doctor and professor of public health), and he agrees.  It is just frustrating that the program I am here to evaluate is sort of dying before my eyes.  This makes me all the more impatient to start my work, but my advisor does not even expect me to submit my ethics proposal until mid November!  If nothing else, I am learning to have patience!

To keep myself busy and feel productive during this “waiting game” I have started teaching English a few days a week to Malian professionals.  I teach at a private school near the embassy that is owned by a German- American teacher (MA in Edu) and an Australian academic (Phd).  They are great women who know Mali pretty well and the students are interesting—many are professionals who have employers paying their tuition, and they are all really interested and motivated to learn this new (and difficult) language.  I have taught for two days so far and really enjoyed it.  Teaching is tiring, though!  After 3 hours of one on one time, I am glad to be done.  I am not getting paid much, but I am hoping that this activity will lend some structure to my days and help me feel more accomplished.  I have also already met some great people through this new “job.”

So, although I don’t always feel like I’m progressing toward any particular end, I realize (even while writing all of this) that I really have made some good steps in a positive direction.  As a friend reminded me, I will realize at some point just how much progress I have made during the times I felt like I was merely treading water and staying afloat.  And I am working on an ongoing and important lesson in the practice of patience!  Petit à petite, dooni dooni, little by little, it will all come together!