Sweet Home Moribila

    As I near the end of my times as a Peace Corps Volunteer here in Mali, I find myself wanting to pinpoint specifics.  What have I learned in these 20+ months?  What will I take back with me to the United States?  What are the things I hope to never, ever again take for granted?  And what am I really going to miss about this place?  I decided it would be best to focus first on those things I will think about, once home, that will bring a smile to my face and those pieces I’m likely to yearn for.  I only have a few months left in Moribila so I want to spend this time appreciating those things I may never get to experience again:

10. Orange Toothless Smiles ~  Old men and old women alike are often encountered in a giggly, gregarious state due to cola nut consumption!  Cola nuts are hard, bitter nuts that have an effect similar to that of catnip (from what I’ve been told).  The cola nuts turn what’s left of their teeth bright orange.  I will most certainly miss the interaction with folks in this state :)

9.  Waking up with the sun to the sounds of village life ~  I go to bed each evening between 9 & 10pm.  To wake up with the sun around 6:30 is refreshing and something I’m not sure I have ever done sans alarm clock in the States.  The rhythmic sound of the pounding of the day’s millet is not a bad way to rise either. 

8.  Mangoes, Degue, and Didegue ~  Honestly the only 3 foods I will miss from Mali.  Degue is a sweet sour milk drink with millet balls mixed in (sounds terrible but its oh so wonderful).  Didegue is a past made for special days like the beginning and end of fast in the time of Ramadan.  It is made from millet, honey, sugar, peanuts, and sour milk, mmmm!  These are 3 things I know would never be recreated or taste the same outside Malian borders.  Sad.

7.  People shouting my name from the far corners of town ~  I’ve lived 2 years as a celebrity.  Mere sight of me induces children to run my way, shake my hand, and greet with the flawed but sweet ‘Caba? Fanta, Caba bien?!’  I get to sit at the Mayor’s table for special events and am told how pretty I am every day!  These aspects of celebrity aren’t bad, aren’t bad at all.

6.  Trail running in the Moribila ‘back-country’ roads ~  My one time of the day that is ‘just me’ time alone on the trails getting ready for the day ahead.  I cherish this time and know its going to be challenging to find an activity anywhere near as peaceful back in the States!

5.  Laying in my hammock reading or listening to the radio ~  I know I will never again have the chance to read as often as I do here in such a reader-friendly environment, nor will I get to sit beneath the stars and listen to BBC for hours each night.  This second year has been busier (thankfully) so I really appreciate those times I get to read a really good book (or even a so-so one that reveals something new to me).  I know I will forever see reading in a different light because of this experience.

4.  Laughs with the women ~  Most of the time I have no clue why they are laughing.  I’m sure sometimes it’s at me (okay maybe with me) and other times even if I could understand the words, I wouldn’t ‘get it’!  But I laugh too, especially when I ‘get it’.  Because seeing these incredible women who work so hard and have such a serious life let loose a little and enjoy each other is something to cherish. 

3.  Children’s inability to still hips and feet in the presence of a beat ~  No matter the time of day, the amount of people standing around, or if they are fully clothed; a beat starts and the children start dancing and I LOVE it.  How could you not?!  It puts an immediate smile on my face, and theirs :)

2.  Fanta Goita II ~ This really is a catch all for all the wonderfully sweet children in my host family and nearby concessions, but Miss Fanta takes the cake since she is my Namesake in Mali and therefore my charge is to take care of her and love her more than the rest!  Which is no problem since I certainly do, so so much.  Giving or showing affection for another person in Mali is not something that is culturally acceptable.  These kiddos have been my only source for hugs for months of my service and I really, truly do not know what I would have done without them, their questions, their smiles, their giggles when I tickle them, and their affection.  These babes will likely be what I miss most from Mali on a daily basis.

1.  Relationships Built ~  I fear that the relationships I have built here are ones that could have fostered no other way in no other place and that once I leave this place they will be something I always try to retain and regain and yet its certain to not be the same.  My family in Mali will be hard to stay close with as communication challenges will abound.  My relationships with my fellow PCVs will be so so hard to leave even though I know we will see each other again Stateside.  I know that the closeness we share here will be something that no one else will be able to understand.  These people have been my only source of support on some days and have certainly helped me through some of my toughest times in Peace Corps, and therefore life.  I have been blown away by the support I have received from friends and family at home while I have been here, so I can only hope I will be blessed to have friends here that stay friends when I return home so we can continue to support each other through the many remaining chapters in our lives.  Mali PCVs, Moribila Folks – THANK YOU!  I’m going to put as much energy in appreciating you all in these last 4 months as possible :)

Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

    One of my best friends will be disappointed in me once knowing this, since peanuts are her ultimate enemy, but I eat peanut butter and/or peanuts every day of my life here.  I find it is one thing I can consistently find that provides me protein and nutrients.  Before arriving in Mali I had the notion that I would get to eat quite heathfully and mostly organically.  The reality is far from that supposition.  With the arrival of sickness after sickness I, for the most part, stopped eating with my Malian family as they use untreated water and rarely wash their hands with soap.  This has left me to cook each and every meal for myself, and with market once a week and no refrigeration eating organically, let alone healthfully, is incredibly challenging.  When I arrived home for vacation in September after 15 months in Mali many folks were shocked that I wasn’t skinny as a rail since often rural Africa is associated with hunger.  Truthfully, in Mali, hunger isn’t so much the issue.  Families here always – well almost always- have something to eat, even if just because the culture of hospitality here won’t allow for a neighbor with food to allow another neighbor to not eat.  The problem lies with nutrition. 

    Meat is very expensive in Mali, especially for village folk, so protein has to be found in other sources, mainly peanuts, dried fish, and beans.  They don’t however add lots of vegetables to the sauce they make with the peanuts or on top of the beans.  To the beans they add an amazing amount of oil and sugar and eat them with bread.  To the peanut sauce – oil, salt, and hot peppers.  When they do add veggies or meat the men of all ages get first crack at these portions leaving little to none for the women or children – who are the ones actually doing most of the hard labor.  Because they are so busy all day every day, they then require a lot of carbohydrate energy, which can easily be found in rice, cous cous, millet, pasta, corn flour or wheat flour.  The sad part is that the rice and pasta are white and refined so nutritionally almost fruitless.  There are certain sauces that do better than others.  The Malians use leaves (bean, onion, or tree) to add nutrition to the sauces, and those are easy to find and therefore cheap, but they aren’t used enough.  The most popular is the okra sauce, often with dried fish, then the tomato and onion sauce – which often, strangely, has spaghetti strands mixed in – and then the peanut sauce.  If there were enough vegetables and meat (fish, chicken, goat or beef) to give each consumer a proper serving size, things wouldn’t be so bad.  The practice, however, is to take a large scoop of millet (with the 4 fingers of your right hand) and dip it quickly in the sauce bowl, retract and eat.  This means only a little bit of sauce – and therefore nutrients – get consumed with each ~1/4 cup of toh.  With the rice and cous cous dishes the sauce is poured over a huge portion of rice and the veggies and meat sit in a pile in the middle.  Since eating is done from a communal bowl, whoever eats the fastest or grabs their share of the goods first ‘wins’!  Once the sauce is gone, they fill up with the leftover plain rice at the bottom of the bowl. 

    All of these things make staying nutritious hard for me while eating a Malian diet.  My two favorite meals are rice with peanut sauce and beans.  Even when I ask – which I do every time and get a look of pure astonishment – for no oil to be poured on top – there is still quite a good amount used in either preparation or just naturally, as with the peanuts.  Since I am forever a guest here, I do get a better portion of the meat and veggies when I do eat with the village, but still its maybe two 2inch chunks of meat and a few pieces of sweet potato, pumpkin, or cabbage.  The bigger issue is the very smell of the most nutritious (i.e. leaf filled) sauces cause my stomach to churn, yet alone actually eating it!  And, have you noticed that I have yet to mention any fruit?  Well that’s likely because on a regular basis the only fruits available to me are oranges (which are really like big limes with very little flavor and even less juice) and bananas.  Now I like bananas and all but as my only legitimate option?  Rough.  I LOVE fruit, especially apples with their delightful crunch and sweetness, so as you can imagine this has been the hardest part of eating in Mali.  Well, that and the lack of cheese ;)  The thing that changed my life last year was mango season!  There are mangos everywhere and they are big, juicy, and perfect.  I didn’t even like mangos before coming to Mali and now my mouth waters just thinking about them 6 months later!  Its also why I think I really didn’t mind hot season, just sat in my hammock eating mangos all day in the 110 degree weather!  I just have to be careful or I could end up developing an allergy as some of my friends did this year from overconsumption! 

    So as a PCV it is then our job, when possible, to talk with folks about how to make their eating more nutritious without making it lots more expensive.  Its important for the people in my region to make beans more often, add dried fish to their sauces, and to use leaves in as many meals as they can.  For other regions, like Sikasso, its encouraging gardeners to save some of the beautiful veggies and fruit they produce for their own families instead of just taking in all profit.  All of us have the hard task of trying to encourage the families to give the larger portion of protein and veggie portions to the children and women (especially the pregnant ones).  Any little bit helps.  In my case, I have done a few radio shows on the importance of nutrition for especially young children and pregnant moms.  Also, any time I see a child with a reddish tinge to their hair (a sign of malnutrition) I say something to their father – since he's in charge -  if he’s around, or mother if not, that they need to give that child extra beans, meat, and leafy vegetables. 

    Obviously, growing up in Dearborn, I was ignorant about the whole structure of food production and consumption in a farming community, as likely many of you reading this are.  It was helpful for me to understand the difference between food insecurity – healthy food not available all year round – and what people experience as true hunger.  Nearly every child has a distended belly because the lack of protein prohibits their muscles to form properly, but they are eating, just not correctly.  Its very rare to see an overweight person in Mali, but those who are, are seen as wealthy and romantically more desirable.  Most of these folks live in the bigger cities or work in positions that don’t require going into the fields and have people to help them make food and clean their homes.  Every woman in my compound is incredibly fit despite the oil and carbs because they work so hard!  To keep myself from gaining weight here – which would be incredibly easy – I go for jogs in the morning and I ask for no oil and I cook meals for myself – even if they do contain lots of carbs and few veggies (except for right after market day when I overload!).  This is all just to show that even things you think are safe to assume about a place can often be misleading.  This topic area is a comparatively nice one to try to change minds towards leading healthier lives.  The topic is less personally taxing for me as it is not an area of cultural difference that challenges my values.  Malians love to talk about money, even if its how poor they are, so its not easy to offend them that way, but it is hard to get them to see how choosing to buy tea and sugar everyday instead of meat or vegetables is hurting the health of their family.  Since the men control the money and also get the majority of said nutrition making the point is often hard won, but all the more reason to encourage women to be educated and hold paid positions in their communities!

Hey Mom! Look What I Can Do…

    I take a brisk but lengthy walk with 3 determined women about my age making our way to the cotton fields.  We arrive, strap rice sacks around our waist to be filled to the brim with cotton.  The heat is already blazing and its only 8:30am – looks like I’m in for a tiring day.  I look to my left and 6 or 7 women are quickly making their way up and down the rows of cotton and I turn to my right and there is my 9 year old brother Bema.  Not only is Bema smiling and greeting me, as he is one of the most courteous 9 year olds I’ve ever met, he is also dominating me in his plucking of bulbs of cotton hidden within  their sharp natural containers.  Typical.  My first day cotton picking I had to leave after just 2 hours because I ran out of my (filtered and bleached) water.  I’m fragile.  My family likes to remind me of this daily telling me to take a rest from my hard work of book reading or move my chair out of the sun.  Well the second time to the fields I thought I was more prepared with 2 full Nalgene’s (64 oz.) of water, but I still found my water supply diminished by lunch break.  Of course there was still plenty of work to be done, so who could take me back? (believe me I would get lost somewhere in the corn fields and have a search party sent for me) Well my 4 year old brother Bakary of course!  He easily navigated the 10 foot corn stalks, rows upon rows of budding millet, and stripped cotton fields to get me on the trail leading back to our house.  Although I only picked 1/5 the amount of my counterparts I still got some village cred for participating!  Everyone wanted to see my ‘battle scars’ on my fingers and arms the day after and many people expressed how Malian I was having done that :)

    I tell this story to highlight how amazingly incompetent I am in the Malian context of life, especially when compared to the incredible competence of the children.  In the States we are so concerned with the safety of our little ones that I think we create some unnecessary dependence and self-consciousness.  More than any other thing here, I have learned to see the resilience of children.  I still find myself saying “Be careful!” to the kids everyday, but really I know they have tested their limits, will continue to do so, and have lots of brothers, sisters, and cousins to make sure that don’t step too far beyond that line.   My 7 year old host sister, Setou, carries my little 8 month old namesake, Fanta, on her back any time mom needs to be doing other things.  Setou feeds her (non-breastmilk meals), plays with her, and on top of that is in charge of many of the household chores (sweeping the concession twice a day, washing the dishes and her own clothes, and occasionally plucking and prepping a chicken for lunch).  Ask my 7 year old self to try to do any one of those things, besides play with a sweet little babe, and you’d be up a creek without a paddle.  Just sayin’.  I go for my runs in the morning and often see 6-11 year old boys, sometimes alone, sometimes with 2-3 others, herding sheep, goats, and massive cows with massive horns (can you hear my own fear?!) up through the trails to try to find some green for them to munch on.  They just have this confidence about them where the cows, 6 times their size, know not to f*ck with them.  Excuse my language, but seriously!  Just hear the tone in their voice when they move 20 of them this way or that.  I’d move too.  Any time tea is made a small boy is summoned and trusted to retrieve fresh hot coals from the cooking fire to start a smaller fire to boil the tea.  And nearly every time I make the tea, using this fire, I burn myself on the pot.  See…fragile.

    Now I realize most of you would ask where the time for the children to be children is, and some days I find myself wondering the same.  But most days, I watch them interact, even while working, and they find just as many ways and opportunities to tease and taunt each other (as siblings and cousins should do, right?!), make toys our of sticks and cans, get scrapped up after chasing each other round and round town, and dance to any and every beat they hear or make.  If we look back at when our grandparents and great grandparents were kiddos, I bet their amount of time for ‘play’ was pretty similar, because it comes with the life of farming for a living.  Perhaps ‘time for being a kid’ in the way we tend to think about it in the States is a luxury of development.  Perhaps its cultural.  I think only time will tell. 

   What I can say I know now is that any Malian child past the age of 4 is a greater asset to any community or family here than I am at 26 years of age with a Master’s Degree.  Ouch.  All is well though because I think this will make me a better mother when I choose to embark upon that chapter of my life.  Other people may not approve of my child being tied to my back or to letting them explore their own limits that might seem scary to others, but I know they can do a whole heck of a lot more than I ever realized on their own.  There will still be limits to my ‘madness’, i.e. the whole “here 3 year old child, take this knife and cut up those sweet potatoes for me while I go pull some water from the well” or “sure you can play in the still extraordinarily hot ashes and coal from my cooking” won’t go over well with me.  I find myself continually highly nervous when these episodes come about and I think for good reason, since just yesterday little 5 year old Douda came over to show me his half burned off toe.  The difference, I find, lies in the strength of the community here and their ability to look out for one another.  Some days I am walking through village and I run into a small pack of 3 year old girls running around enjoying their home all alone.  They aren’t in any real danger, but its something I certainly had to get used to – no mom, no dad, no babysitter watching.  Eventually I came to realize someone, maybe not as close by as I would like, but always someone, had an eye on those kids even if none of them were theirs.  In Mali, I get to experience just how a whole village really can raise a child, and a highly capable one at that!

14 months…50 books!

After promising numerous people numerous times that I would post a list of all the books I have read since arriving in Mali, I am finally doing it!  I figure, why not wait til the number is pretty impressive right?!  I also think that after giving myself some time to digest them all I am able to provide a pretty solid Top 10 List.  I’ll start with that and then move on from there in Alphabetical order by Author’s last name, here we go:

1. Middlesex – J. Eugenides
2. Kafka on the Shore – H. Murakami
3. The Fountainhead – A. Rand
4. East of Eden – J. Steinbeck
5. Anil’s Ghost – M. Ondaatje
6. Love in the Time of Cholera – G. Marquez
7. Island – A. Huxley
8. The Autobiography of Malcolm X – as told to A. Haley
9. Everything is Illuminated – J.S. Foer
10. The Kite Runner – K. Housseni
11. Islam – K. Armstrong
12. Sense and Sensibility – J. Austen
13. When the Rainbow Goddess Wept – C. Brainard*
14. Wuthering Heights – E. Bronte
15. Palestine, Peace not Apartheid – J. Carter*
16. A Plato and Platypus Walk Into a Bar – T. Cathart & D. Klein
17. What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day – P. Cleage
18. The Valkeries – P. Coehlo
19. The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao – J. Diaz
20. Drown – J. Diaz
21. The Count of Monte Cristo – A. Dumas
22. The Rules of Attraction – B.E. Ellis
23. Nine Hills to Nambonkaha – S. Erdman
24. The Corrections – J. Franzen*
25. The Twenty-Seventh City – J. Franzen
26. Dove – R.L. Graham
27. Beneath the Wheel – H. Hesse
28. Jonah’s Gourd Vine – Z.N. Hurston
29. Brave New World – A. Huxley
30. The Liar’s Club – M. Karr*
31. Strength in What Remains – T. Kidder
32. The Poisonwood Bible – B. Kingsolver
33. The Girl Who Played with Fire – S. Larrson
34. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo – S. Larrson
35. Big Machine – V. Lavalle*
36. Wicked – G. Maguire
37. ‘Tis – F. McCourt
38. The English Patient – M. Ondaatje*
39. Cry the Beloved Country – A. Paton
40. The Tenth Circle – J. Picoult
41. My Ishmael – D. Quinn
42. Story of B – D. Quinn*
43. Fieldnotes on Democracy, Listening to Grasshoppers – A. Roy*
44. The Reader – B. Schlink
45. The Grapes of Wrath – J. Steinbeck
46. The Help – K. Stockett*
47. Anna Karenina – L. Tolstoy
48. The War of the Worlds – H. G. Wells
49. Eureka Street – R. Wilson
50. Native Son – R. Wright*

My two least favorites I would have to say were Anna Karenina and The Grapes of Wrath, sorry, I thought they were both terribly boring.  I have put a (*) mark next to the books that would be included in a top 20!  Hope you enjoy :)

Roundin’ the first year bend…

     After 12 months and 28 days, there are days I still stop in the middle of a walk around Bamako, or a bike ride through village, when I say to myself, ‘Holy sh*t.  I’m in the Peace Corps.  I am living in a mud hut in the middle of West Africa…and I am actually making it!’  I cannot believe the experience is half over and -if I can trust my friends about to COS (close of service)- the second year goes exponentially faster than the first.  I can only imagine at this point next year I will be astounded that the experience is ending and that, hopefully, I have been a help in one way or another to the folks in Moribila.  I’ve had a lot of chats with my friends about to head back to the States about their experience here and what it means to them to have finished.  Most seem to express that the second year is much more meaningful since communication is easier and you know your village and their needs.  So I look forward to this and I feel as though my vision for the next 12 months is already pretty laid out, which makes me confident in my ability to finish strongly.

    I cannot say that things have become easier, I have just found better ways to cope with the difficulties.  I have also realized I am capable in ways I did not know previously, and learned to find help in those areas where I am incapable (i.e. laundering jeans and large towels, or pounding millet for my morning seri :P).  I have, however, become really adept in the last year at spending hours on end reading novels and sitting for immense periods of time doing absolutely nothing but stare at the stars and listen to Malian radio!  I’ve learned that I prefer life and work in a structured environment, but have also come to appreciate the aspects of non-structure and small things that come to light through living life in this way.  I have my routine at site, and when I get to go by it I feel comfortable and in a stride.  There are days though, when routine gets thrown out the window, that my emotional stability takes a tumble; when so much else is different than what I know, a change in my schedule can impact me so much more than it would in any other environment.  Thank goodness I have an amazing support network of family and friends both in the States and here in Mali that has helped me to stick it out thus far.  I finally know I am glad I didn’t go home on the close calls I had feeling homesick, or actually sick, or had family issues arose, or was just bored to the point I wanted to jump out of my skin! 

    I talk with my friends all the time about the realities in Mali that so starkly contrast what life was like for us in the States.  For instance, I got to wash my clothes in a washing machine this past weekend –it only took an hour!!!!!- and I got to drink a ice cold Sam Adams, and I nearly cried! haha.  Those things are obviously very surface struggles and things I have barely noticed missing in the last 6 months or so.  The forms of attention (often negative or from a patronizing fashion – i.e. ‘you are too old to not be married with at least 2 children’, or ‘well you should marry me then, since you are so old, you really don’t have much choice’ and then, themselves, getting offended when I say ‘No, thanks’) has made it so I cannot say I don’t miss the US nearly everyday.  Not to say harassment isn’t real and persistent in the States, but I find I can choose to surround myself with people who are respectful towards me and can choose not to have meals or tea with them without offending the natural order of my community.  The longer I am here, the more I understand the freedom that comes from being an American even if we still have a long long journey for equality.  I find myself thinking about my life and knowing how incredibly lucky I am.

    I was just remarking yesterday to a friend that I almost feel like I am in the home stretch now, even though it is only half-way done.  The hardest parts about living here just take some time to get used to and the missing of my friends and family will be less intense this second year because I am coming home in September and then I know its way less time than I had to do previously before I get to see their wonderful faces again!  I am also realizing how hard its going to be to leave this place in a year after understanding how close I have gotten to my Malian family in this first year and the second year (inshallah) my language comprehension and ability will only get stronger.  My little namesake, Fanta, is getting so big and is so so cute, and I have gotten many phone calls from my village folks wondering how I am doing and when the heck I am coming back to them (since I have been in Bamako the last month doing training for Peace Corps).  Realizing how much they have come to care, and in turn how much I find myself caring for them, shows me how much I have come to rely on them for support as well. 

    I am also, as I mentioned above, at the point where I know what my village needs that I can actually be of some help with.  We are working towards starting a pretty big adult literacy program within 8 of the 16 villages in my commune; I have been working with the Women’s Association on Income Generating Activities so they can raise money to build a well within their garden; and because almost every person stated a sincere need for help with water sanitation issues (obviously not my area of great competency), we started a water and sanitation committee with the village chief and are going to discuss how we can improve the health practices around their water supply.  Because we, as a community, have met numerous times to narrow down these 3 areas as their greatest needs, I am feeling much more confident and much less stressed about making sure I am doing the right work for the right groups of people.  There were just as many, if not more, women than men included in the community assessment, so I am sure their collaborative voice was heard, and I feel like no single project was pushed by government folks within the village either, which seems to often become problematic. 

   I have a year to go and I wholeheartedly feel that if my friends and family support me even half as much as they did this past year, I can finish my time here and be really proud of what I’ve done.  I know its unlikely all three projects will get finished or work perfectly, but I know they are all projects initiated by the community members and are things they have shown they want to be engaged in.  I will have to work hard this year to keep them motivated and to fight against the backwards work many NGOs have established in my village and Mali more broadly (i.e. that they should not have to save up for anything their village needs because someone will come in and pay for it for them) and hopefully get some sustainable projects in the works.  Wish me luck, and keep your letters of support and care packages filled with goodies - see list on the right if you are unsure what to send ;) – coming my way!!!  I so appreciate each and every one of you that has helped me get this far, you know who you are, and I don’t know how I will ever be able to fully express my thanks.

    I’ll leave you with a quote that fits my community organizing studies and now, even more so, this experience I am having trying to get work accomplished in West Africa…

“The greatest good we can do for others is not to share our riches with them, but to reveal to them their own.” - Benjamin Disraeli

Thanks for reading and keep your comments coming!

Hair & Henna

    Traditional and modern Malian culture show their differences between generations through attitude and appearance.  These things are especially apparent in village life with young men and women itching to explore aspects of the cultures they hear about from friends going to the 'big city' or from watching dubbed Spanish soap operas.  Young men who wear detailed jeans and Ed Hardy tshirts (an easy find at the dead toubab clothing stops), adorned in jewelry, are often nicknamed 'Americain' (said with a French accent) and they revel in it.  Young Malian women wear tighter clothing than their moms and grandmas and pair their traditional skirts (pagnes) with tank tops and tshirts certainly made outside of Mali.  However, I've yet to see a woman in my village, other than myself, wear pants!  The women love jewelry, more often than not, the tackier the better, and I get asked for my earrings, bracelets, rings, and watch every single day.  Unlike in the US, in village life, shoes are just a barrier between your feet and the ground or a vehicle through which you improve your soccer game. 
    I find the most intriguing aspect of this shift towards modernity to be the hair styles and the uses of henna for both the young men and women.  Hair and the way it is styled or cut is a symbol of status in the United States, especially within Black communities, and it is here as well.  The city women in Mali (the 'Bamakois' - the Bamako elite) spend lots of time and money on getting extensions and weaves which are a sign they don't have to work in the fields, are educated, or have money in the family.  In village life, on the other hand, weaves and extensions are both hard to acquire and impractical.  There is, however, a recent trend to use a gimp-like wire (can be seen in my pictures on facebook) to wrap around strands of hair as an alternative to regular braiding.  I find the braiding patterns intricate and beautiful, but these wirey additions look so uncomfortable and strange that is is interesting to me as to why they have become so popular. 
    Just as it is a special time for women when they get their hair done, it is the same for men and young boys in village.  One day every few weeks I notice myself looking around at a bunch of bald headed boys and men in my concession!  Some of the young men try to keep some hair and style it like early Fresh Prince episodes, zig zag patterns and all.  Its always done on the same day, and in Malian culture hair must be disposed of by burying it in the ground or throwing it down the nyegen (pit latrine).  It is said that if a donkey were to eat your discarded hair, you will come down with a terrible headache, so watch out!
    Another popular way to jazz up your appearance here in Mali is to use natural henna.  Traditionally, henna is applied for special occasions and is especially important for soon-to-be brides and their female family members.  If you are planning to attend a wedding or Tabaski is coming up, it is customary to apply henna to your feet and hands with incredibly detailed designs by applying patterns using tape which you remove after the henna dries.  It dyes your hands, feet, nails and hair for weeks if left alone.  More recently though, other ways to use henna have become more popular.  Tattoos aren't entirely understood here (as I've learned through experiences of other PCVs), but the temporary art of henna is loved.  The men are often seen with henna tattooed on their eyelids as an eyeliner.  This is especially prominent among the 'Americain' types I mentioned above.  Most common though, is the practice for women of applying long thin strips of henna above the eyes to make eyebrows (since they shave their own right off).  It creates an intensity in their facial expressions that, a year later, I am still not used to!  It is also common for moms to paint eyebrows on brand new baby girls, perhaps to emphasize their gender. 
    Some of these aspects are things I still take notice of daily and then others are just now part of my understanding of Mali and barely register anymore.  I can say though, that this is just the cusp of understanding how modern culture is slowly, and sometimes strangely, influencing the lives of the Malian young people and Malian culture. 

Malian Views on Ameriki

    Along the way in Mali I've encountered numerous folks with lots of ideas about what America (Ameriki) is like and the characteristics all Americans must hold.  This last week I repeated an exercise with some English speaking Malians - some of the Peace Corps staff - that I did the first week I arrived here and had subsequently forgotten all about.  The exercise focuses on the ideas around stereotypes and taking the initiative to air them out between two groups of people so we can begin a dialogue around where these perceptions, and sometimes misperceptions, come from.  The first time I did this, there were around 90 Americans and 30 Malians writing down and presenting all their (or those of the typical village Malian) stereotypes of Americans.  Curious?!  Well, some of those that came up were as follows:

• Rich
• Hardworking
• Spies
• Dirty
• Selfish
• Frugal
• Courageous
• Promiscuous

    Now I don't have the best memory in the world so this list is far from exhaustive, but these are the ones that stood out for one reason or another in my mind.  I am sure the stereotype of 'rich' does not come as a great shock to you all.  Most of the NGOs Malians work with shell out the dough like there's no tomorrow...and whether its an American, Spanish, French, or Canadian NGO, or the Peace Corps, we are all seen as one...one big $ sign.  I'm not sure when the last time was (if there ever was one) where I stepped outside my village and didn't get either straight out asked for money or for a cadeaux (gift).  Either that or told I am going to take someone back to America with me.  One time a woman even had the gumption, when I told them I didn't have money to do so, to say 'it's okay, then your dad can buy the ticket for me.' Eh?! They don't even know my dad ;)  It's also incredibly hard to explain that, just like in Mali, there are those who 'have' and those who 'have not' and that poverty and hunger also exist in America. 
    Now it was hard not to giggle when we, as PCVs, read 'spies' as a common perception of Americans, but when we asked the reasoning behind the idea, it was a little more humbling.  They said that they see us, as PCVs or NGO workers, coming from a place like America where there is wealth, infrastructure and diversity, to live in Mali, sometimes in the poorest of villages, and find it incredibly hard to believe that we don't have an alterior motive.  So what could our motive be? Spying on Malians for our government...obviously.  It was a good reality check if nothing else.  If they can get past this assumption, that is where the idea of Americans being 'courageous' stems from.  We pick up, leave our families (unheard of here), friends, and (some of us) good jobs, to work for free in a place entirely unknown to us, with people we have never met before, who speak a minority language...brave. 
    The last one that completely struck us by surprise was the adjective 'dirty'.  It's almost laughable for us coming into Malian society - which I think is most germaphobes' worst nightmare - to hear that we were the dirty ones!  Of course we had to ask and the answer was amusing.  First, because we go into the latrine (remember this is plainly a hole in the ground) and sometimes we forget to take our salidaga with us so they assume we are not cleaning ourselves after we are done; i.e. dirty.  Wait, wait, Alyssa...what's a salidaga?!  Okay, well, its a small plastic container shaped like a tea kettle that Malians fill with water to use concurrently with their left hands to 'cleanse' themselves after latrine usage.  Yup.  They also use the salidaga to wash their hands, face, and feet for prayer time.  So the concept of us keeping toilet paper in our nyegen (latrine) is entirely absurd - what would we use that strange white paper for?  Certainly not cleanliness...We were also told if we don't take - or pretend to take - 2-3 showers/bucket baths a day the Malians will think we are dirty.  This is something I have no issues with in hot and rainy season since I am perpetually a sweaty mess.  They don't understand that in cold season, however, a second shower is just a waste of water.  I do zero hard labor in the day, so one shower after my run in more than sufficient.  Plus, the well water gets quite cold as does the air outside at dusk, and then I'm just left shivering in my outdoor nyegen...not fun.  There is also the reality that in many nyegens you don't feel any cleaner after a shower since you are doing so in a place with an open hole filled with human waste.  The smell of your own soap doesn't quite cut it.  Plus, I guess lots of PCVs are pretty granola, so maybe we really are dirty ;) Only kidding folks!
    The last thing to remember about why Malians perceive us the way they do is because most of their initial exposure to us, if they have television sets in their town (which most do somewhere - powered by car batteries) are through cheesy soap operas.  So the perspective might be slightly skewed!  I think this has something to do with the 'promiscuous' note, although compared to this traditional Muslim society where you aren't even supposed to shake hands with someone of the opposite sex (since it's likely that will make you fall in love with them and that would lead to inappropriate behavior, of course), that's probably exactly what we are. 
    I thought better of sharing what some of our stereotypes of Malian were, since I would rather hear from you all...what are some perceptions that you had of Malians before I came here, or still have now?  Have some changed or been confirmed through following my experience so far?!