Malian Education Part Kelen (1)

Since I am technically an education volunteer, although I feel a title of community development volunteer would be more fitting, I thought I should introduce you all to the structures and ideas behind education here in Mali. 

The general structure is similar to that in the United States although the difficulties within are much more extreme.  Some communities have a Jardin d’enfants (Kindergarten) but most do not.  The basic school in most villages is the primary school which holds grades 1-6.  In my specific commune there are 16 villages and 5 primary schools.  About the farthest anyone has to travel is 5-7km to get to primary school.  However, we only have 1 secondary school (7-9th grade) meaning some students have to travel over 15km twice a day.  The high schools are normally only found in larger towns so in order for the children in my town to attend school past grade 9 they have to move to the larger town of either Koutiala or San, which means finding friends or family to agree to house and feed them during the school year. 

The school year lasts from October to the end of June.  July to September is rainy season meaning the villagers are incredible busy tending to their fields.  The rain on the all dirt roads during this time often makes the roads impassible which would create more issues for attending school.  The cool season here (October-January) is also harvesting time which also creates attendance issues since many families need the help of their young children in the fields.  Then comes the hot season (temps can reach 120 degrees F) where almost no one in village wants to move let alone learn or teach (this is something I still have not witnessed so more to come on this later).  

Most classrooms have at least 80 children – so those of you with 30-35 in the States can at least be thankful you aren’t teaching in Mali.  I went into an English class last week in Bamako that had 142 children in it.  Three students to a desk with maybe 15-20 books to go around.  The students range in age pretty drastically within a classroom often because there are not enough teachers so,for example, the 2nd and 3rd graders may get clumped together into the same room.  The ‘redoublement’ rate – or those who don’t pass from one grade to the next – is often more than 50 percent.  This is caused by many factors including the lack of teacher/student personal attention, low attendance because of work at home or in the fields, and sickness. 

In order to move from 6th grade to 7th, 9th to 10th and to attend University each student must pass an exam.  The number of students actually making it to University is so low that many villages cannot even name 2 or 3 people who have made it that far.  The obstacles are so extreme, especially for young girls, that attending school beyond the 5th grade is a feat in itself.  Primary schools tend to have a pretty even ratio of girls and boys (if the village is aware of the importance of this aspect) but the ratio decreases rapidly the higher the grade.  Much of this is based on the ingrained idea that once a girl has secured a husband there is no need to continue her education (especially because it is nearly unheard of for a man to marry someone more educated then himself). 

This is a start.  More to come on teacher training, adult literacy in Mali, and the creation of school management committees, parent teacher associations, and the student mothers association. 

Fanta…Toh?!

    No, thanks.  I’ve just, just eaten. 
Toh.  Malian staple.  Made from millet smashed and susu’d (mortar and pestle’d) to fine powder at which point it is slowly added to a pot of boiling water and man handled (meaning entirely by women) until it is an incredibly thick paste.  The mixture is then scooped into large bowls to cool slightly (meaning not nearly enough unless your hands and tongue are calloused from working in the fields and heat exposure) for consumption.  The taste of the Toh is similar to corn meal: very bland and grainy.  By itself, not the worst thing in the world, but when paired with its two most likely companions, nearly inedible (in my humble opinion).
Sauce Option 1: Okra sauce.  If you have never straight cooked the veggie before you may not know that once cooked it adopts an incredibly slimy texture making it similar to that of snot – i.e. hard to swallow.  This is cooked with an assortment of ‘herbs and spices’ and ready for dunking.
Sauce Option 2: Jege sauce.  For those of you who know Bambara, you know this means an even worse option than the first if you know me well…fish.  And not just any fish.  Since I am in a small village without access to fresh fish, smoked and dried fish it is with an extreme odor and therefore flavor. The actual sauce is just tomato based with onions but the addition of the black fish makes it just as intolerable as option 1.
Either of the previously described sauces are then poured into a small bowl which is then pressed into the now playdoh-like larger bowl of Toh.  As seen here in a fellow PCV’s photo:

Once the dish is ready to be served, you wash your hands with soap, while Malians “wash” their hands with water (the usage of soap has negative connotations in Mali where people think it will make them loose their riches) and you dive in.  The actual consumption process is one that cannot be described.  It must be witnessed or demonstrated by a person who has seen it done.  Let’s just say you’ve never seen someone use their hand as a utensil to its full potential until you’ve seen a Malian do it. 
Malians eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner and, man, can they shovel it in.  I’ve never seen a person eat more of anything in one sitting than Malians can eat of this stuff.  I am sure you won’t be surprised after reading the title of this post, or just by knowing me generally, that I rarely partake in the eating of the Toh.  Once and a while I will eat with my hands for special events like Cinquantenaire or Tabaski, but most days I cook for myself and continue to use a fork and spoon.  I’ve come to the conclusion that Americans are just no good at eating with their hands.  Perhaps its the mom in the back of all of our heads yelling at us to be ‘proper’.  Maybe it’s just my unease with this extreme version of the dreaded ‘double dip’.  Or perhaps its just me being the picky American that I am.  One thing is for sure though, I won’t miss Malian Toh nor be cooking it for friends and family upon my return stateside.  So sleep soundly at home tonight knowing tomorrow you can just take a lil’ trip around the block to someplace like Slows BBQ as that is what I picture in my brain when biting the bullet the days I do eat Toh :P