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?!

Cultural Adaptation or Loss of Self?

    The cultural differences between my life, and most of my fellow PCV friends’ lives, in America and here in Mali are vast.  Many of these aspects stem from religion and tradition, both of which require me to give myself to the Malians to teach and understand so as not to offend and unknowingly burn bridges in my new home.  Portions of Malian culture have been easy to adapt to: saying hello to everyone I walk past and asking after their family, drinking and making 3 strong shots of green tea at every informal and formal gathering, the ridiculously early morning call to prayers have stopped interrupting my sleep, and I have even grown accustomed to being laughed at each and every day!  On the other hand, there are certain differences I still grapple with even after 10 months.  I think I will always struggle with the Malian cuisine and the use of my hands for its consumption, the tendency for Malians to avoid confrontation and when forced either laugh or shout their way through it, and the slow and season-based pace and timeline for their work.  Those frustrations however, come and go based on the day and my mood.  Gender relations in Mali, on the other hand, continually force me to question myself, my understanding of this culture on a surface and underlying level, my Malian friends and family, and sometimes my fellow PCV friends and the ways they chose to adapt to or challenge these customs. 

    Ask any person who has had the pleasure of spending time with a Malian women and they will reiterate how amazing they are.  In a traditional village (as is my village) a woman is expected to begin and end her day taking care of every minute detail of her, often very large, family.  The bathing, the preparation for cooking, the cooking, the cleaning of the concession, home, dishes, and laundry, and the side-income generation – selling fruits, veggies, tea, shea etc.  This all is done without running water, packaged foods, or electricity, and takes place in mud homes and dirt courtyards which have to be continually cleared of animal and child defecation.  They have to gather wood, start and continually feed the fire to keep water hot and food cooking.  I assume the women get maybe 4-5 hours of sleep a night, they are up past when I go to sleep and awake before I am awake.  All of this and when meals are served the men get first dibs on all meat and hearty aspects of the food as they are seated separately from the women and children.  Many women bow to the older men when serving them food or water.  Much of this system stems from their religious and cultural customs that the man is the head of the household, the decision-maker, and therefore the most important in the family. 

   Witnessing this way of life the past 10 months has been a strange experience for me specifically because I don’t partake in most activities that are traditionally ‘women’s roles’ and yet am a woman so don’t quite fit in with the men either.  I am generally given respect by the people I meet just because of the fact that I am white and from another country.  I am able to sit and eat with the men but generally feel most comfortable hanging out with the 5 year old boys and the grandmas!  Everyday I am asked if I can pound millet and cook toh like a Malian woman and everyday I respond that I cannot.  They all tell me its no problem, that they will teach me, but I respond that I am not strong enough to do those tasks.  Not physically or mentally.  They laugh, but I’m not kidding.  I struggle daily to make sure I am healthfully fed, clean and with clean belongings, and I eat a lot of protein bars, oatmeal, and packaged noodles and I pay someone in my family to to my laundry because they can actually get it clean.  I am able to say ‘I cannot’ here because I am privileged to not have to do so and I know it. 

    The daily grind of a Malian woman’s schedule puts them in a place of awe to me, but the cultural issue surrounding women I most struggle with day to day is polygamy.  My village is almost entirely Muslim so most men have multiple wives and if not, likely plan to.  I get gasps of shock from Malian men when they hear that is not the case, nor legal, in the States.  Much of this is reasoning based on an agricultural lifestyle where more wives means more children and therefore more hands in the field.  However, this also means more mouths to feed and therefore less income generation from the sowing of the fields which I try to point out but ends a fruitless discussion with them laughing it off as the silly ideas of the white lady.  On the other hand, I have Malians tell me they have to have the option to gain a second or third wife in case the first is ‘troublesome’.  My natural response was to ask exactly what was meant by ‘troublesome’ and what recourse a woman may have if she happens to get married to a ‘troublesome’ man?  My Malian friend’s response was ‘divorce’, which is laughable considering the amount of money that would require and the social status the woman would have as a consequence making it a non-option.    

    I know much of my problem with one man having multiple wives comes from growing up in the States and having different ideals about marriage and relationships than the people here, but I cannot seem to get past the issue that the women have no real choice in the matter.  Most marriages are arranged through family and those that are chosen later are rare and still often not the woman’s choice.  I suppose I’ve always had an issue with the custom in many religions and cultures that women should be submissive to men and I find that I struggle with it here more than anything else.  I am trying to stay firm in my beliefs about women’s rights and abilities and sharing those views with my Malian friends and acquaintances, which is technically considered part of my job (sharing American ideals and culture with Malians).  I have friends in country though, both men and women, who have seemed to see this culture, notice its difference to ours, and not have any part in sharing America’s ideas or challenging where, maybe I feel, they should have qualms. 

    For one, I never bow to a man in my village, no matter how old or respected in the community as I feel the custom is one that directly conflicts with my beliefs.  Second, because of the fact that my Bambara is limited, I don’t speak French, and most English speakers here are limited in their ability as well, I could never foresee entering a relationship with a Malian man.  There are plenty of people who do come into this experience and meet someone and decide that it is right for them.  I know because of my issues around gender relations in this country that would be an incredibly hard sell and would have to be an incredibly forward thinking person who I could have conversations with about these ideas.  Where my biggest question lies right now is how an American woman can come to Mali and enter into a relationship with a man who is already married and feel that they are still fulfilling their role as an American Ambassador.  I get that there are gray areas with why people have been married in the first place – arrangement, financial security – but the respect issue as an American coming into a new culture and environment and entering into a relationship such as that is something I cannot entirely fathom and have been thus been mulling over my feelings about it lately and questioning why it is I feel this way.  All I know is I feel sick when my work counterpart is courting his soon-to-be second wife in his home while his first wife sits next to me with their 2-month-old baby girl (most recent of 5 children) and listens to them giggle and flirt 20 feet away.  Many Malian women say that it doesn’t bother them, but some are vehement that is does.  I just would never be able to get past the idea that I was being incredibly disrespectful since that is not my culture or my custom and I almost feel as if its taking advantage of our societal position as ‘foreigners’ in the most negative of ways.

    I am hopeful that, although this post is one that is more exploratory for myself than entirely informational or entertaining, if you read this and feel so inclined, let me know your thoughts.  What experiences have you had with these types of cultural differences and how was it that you got past them or saw them in a different light…

Just Joking Cousins

     One of the most standout and enviable aspects of Malian culture is that of their Joking Cousin Relationships.  There are over 50 ethnicities with 13 local languages living and working together within Mali.  As many of us know through experience, it is often challenging trying to work with 2 or 3 conflicting ethnicities which each come with their own culture and therefore ideas about life, business and love.  We also know that having this diversity can add a special something extra to any situation and I think that is how Mali has decided to frame a potentially hostile situation.  The Joking Cousins Relationship was established with the primary purpose of easing these inevitable tensions in situations in and outside the workplace.  Names, especially last names, are incredibly important in Malian culture.  A name can reveal a person’s religion, your family or ancestral language, and most importantly for this post, your ethnicity.  Being that my Malian name is Fanta Goita one would assume upon meeting me that I am a Muslim and that my first language is Minnianka.  Obviously, this is not a full proof equation, but it does tell the person I was introduced to whether or not my ethnicity is one he can use to call me a ‘bean-eater’ and in doing so induce a fit of laughter on both sides. 
    Yes, I do like beans, and quite a bit since they are a great source of protein for me since I eat little meat here, so you could see how I was initially confused as to why being called a ‘bean-eater’ may be an insult and/or as humorous as Malians seem to find it.  Well, if someone is designated – based on last name and therefore ethnicity – as your joking cousin, you are then free to throw every insult you can creatively muster their way and what you will receive in return will be similarly strange insults accompanied by full bully laughter and big toothless orange (dyed from eating too many kolonuts) smiles!  So lets give an example:  So my last name is Goita so if I meet someone who is a Traore, a Dembele or a Coulibaly I can greet them by telling them they eat beans (and therefore fart which, surprise, surprise, this fastidiously patriarchal society find fart jokes hilarious – just sayin’), that they drink bathroom water (especially revolting if you understand the bathroom situation here), or that I’ve recently named my donkey after them!  If your last name is Coulibaly you are lucky (or unlucky depending upon your personal disposition) enough to be able to joke with everyone.  My friends who were deemed Coulibaly because that is what the last name of their host family was during training got to immediately experience how exhausting this interaction can get.  Some friends have endless insults stored in their back pockets for when these occasions arise because their last names, like Coulibaly or Diallo, invite lots of banter, but mine is a pretty uncommon last name so my joking know-how/vocabulary is mildly limited. 
     This concept was one of the first introduced to us during our training as, beyond all the fun and silliness, it really can be a useful tool in getting yourself out of a potentially uncomfortable situation.  If a taxi driver is being persistent that you agreed on a price that you find too high and incorrect and you can see that he is getting visibly agitated because of it, sometimes just asking if he is a Coulibaly will start the joking dance and can get you the correct price or at least out of the way of a yelling match!  This also works if your bashe or bus is pulled over by the authorities so they can garner bribe money from all the passengers currently riding because your driver doesn’t have the correct documentation for driving the vehicle you are currently in.  I often also use this while bargaining at the market, on a less intense scale.  There are even instances of not having to pay at all when a money collector learns you have a last name ‘related’ to his.Once you see the way it works day in and day out and the obvious release of tension that comes with swinging that first insult you understand the extreme benefit this has for the Malian people in allowing a simple interaction to keep the peace in their country. 
    Malian people grow up instinctively knowing who they can and cannot joke with in this way.  They also take it seriously enough that there are superstitions around marriage between certain joking cousin relationships and it is thought that these marriages will be doomed from the start and will be ruined in some fashion or another through divine intervention.  Us American, on the other hand, were given an extensive list of all the known last names in Mali and which last names we could appropriately joke with in our time here.  The interesting thing is that if you are in one of those sticky situations and you learn the other party is not one of your joking cousins, you can still give it a try and it will sometimes still work wonders just because they like and respect the practice so much.  I also think that being an American, speaking in Bambara, and being aware of these customs gives me, and my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, a huge leg up in the relations we have with the Malian people.  As much as I would have loved to learn it, I don’t think telling a cabbie he’s a ‘bean-eater’ in French would have quite the same impact!

Malian Noisemakers

    I need to start this with 2 facts: 1. That in no way shape or form is the concept of quiet time or time for sleeping respected in this country – if you have a way to power your stereo you’re going to prove how awesome you are by playing it at all times and if you’ve made tea you see no reason not to shout my name at my door ceaselessly until I wake up from my mid-day nap to take the bitter shot; 2. Mali is considered the music capital of West Africa.  When I hear songs like THIS I can understand.  Probably needless to say though, the majority of what I hear is closer to THIS.  Now, this may be an unfair comparison likened to that of say the musical prowess of Barbara Streisand in stark contrast to the abysmal ‘music’ of Miley Cyrus.  However, I felt I needed to put out there to you all the normal form of ‘entertainment’ I am so lucky to experience daily here. 

    Now it would be one thing if I were generally hearing just very unusual music, at least that is something to tap my foot to and fill up the relative quiet that comes with living in the Malian countryside.  The bigger issue I have is with my two noise-making nemesis – Malian radio hosts and donkeys (or animals generally if you will).  As I was already saying, Malian stereos are not underutilized here and the other form of entertainment ‘enjoyed’ is the Malian radio show.  Now I won’t knock all programs since I, for one, do my own little radio program on health, nutrition, and gender development (with the occasional side of Rhianna or Sean Kingston) but some just get on my last last nerve.  I have tried to find examples so you can hear for yourself but my Google searches have been fruitless.  Perhaps I will have to make some recordings soon and try to post them.  So for now I will try to explain, although there may be temptation on your end to find my explanation intriguing or (gulp) charming, I urge you to resist that inclination.

    To start with there are typically 2 hosts on a program.  One who shares the meat of the information and a second who acts as the ‘griot’ or ‘town crier’.  The later is who I sincerely cannot stand.  Throughout the entirety of the program this ‘griot’ continually interrupts mid or end sentence with his interjections of ‘namu, kosebe, amina, or Eh! Allah!’.  I realize those read as nonsense to you but they translate loosely as ‘I’m listening, really/very good, amen, and what!/my god!.  The majority of the time these interruptions make zero sense (well at least to me) and come off as highly unnecessary.  Plus, how can anyone really hold a conversation with someone when they are sitting next to them saying ‘I’m listening’ at the end of EVERY SINGLE SENTENCE.  Think about it.  I realize its radio so non-verbal communication is out, but really?!  It’s obnoxious. 

    If that doesn’t sound excruciating enough, they also have ‘call-in’ times on the radio when listeners can call in and share ideas – in theory.  Well in Mali it translates to the radio host answering the phone on air saying ‘Ahlo. Ahlo. Ahlo? Ahhhlo?’ and then when no one responds he hangs up and tries with a new caller, over and over and over.  Often it is minute upon minute of just the host saying hello.  Then when someone finally does answer all they do is greet…’good evening, how’s your family, your wife, did you have peace today?’ and then that’s it.  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE CALL?!  I’ve certainly no clue.  I guess just to hear themselves on the radio.  Typical Mali.

    The last aspect of Malian radio I will touch upon is the random toilet flushing.  Yup.  Sound effects.  Interspersed within a Malian music set, small clips of phones ringing (old cord phone on the wall style) and the sound of a flushing toilet can be heard for your listening pleasure.  At least this aspect just has the effect of making me chuckle quietly to myself being ‘in the know’ as to what those sounds represent!

    Now to the donkeys.  I’m not sure how many of you reading this blog have spent copious amounts of time on or around farms, but if you have, you know sleeping surrounded by donkeys, goats, ducks, and chickens is not what I would call peaceful.  In the states perhaps the solidity and structure of your home would act as a buffer for this ‘natural soundtrack’.  Remind yourselves, however, that I am sleeping in a house made of mud, stones, and straw and the one window and one door are just screens surrounded with a boarder of wood.  Not exactly the picture of ‘soundproof’.  All night – and all day for that matter – I hear donkeys braying, goats screaming, ducks quacking, crickets singing, and roosters crowing.  Now at home, I don’t like sleeping in complete silence – a little white noise through the constant of a fan running is quite perfect – however, the screams of a goat (which seem to always sound as though death is certain and upon them) waking you from your slumber is not what I would call ideal.  So sadly – at least for the health of my eardrums – I have taken up the habit of sleeping with earplugs.  I have also contemplated the thought of just wearing them 24/7 but I think that might be taking things just a tad too far ;)

    Now please re-reference the 2 facts I stated at the beginning of this post and assess how they make you feel and subsequently how they might be making me feel as you are reading.  If you are planning to send a package (see address at right ;) you might as well include a set or two of earplugs.  They won’t go to waste.  Especially for the unsuspecting visitor who may not take the time to read this before experiencing the joys of the myriad Malian noisemakers!

My 1/4 Way Reflection

    I look down at the 7 bracelets on my arm representing the 7 months in of the 27 I will be undertaking in Mali and realize I’m just under 1/4 of the way.  Some friends say its like just yesterday that I left and my sister insists it feels like its been 5 years.  For me its somewhere in-between.  Its actually very strange to think back to my first week here and the sheer amount of change my life has experienced!  As we are getting ready for a whole new group of volunteers to come into Mali I get the chance to reflect on how much I’ve learned in this short time as well as take count of what I may have missed in my moments (that sometimes lasted weeks) of culture shock.  Every single day I still miss something from home, but I somehow don’t ever see that changing.  Nor am I entirely sure I want it to.  I hope to come home at the end of all of this appreciating how incredibly lucky I am to have an amazing support system (without which I would be home already), the unquestionable opportunity I have as an educated women in America, and the ease of access to things that I love and that make me happy.

    As I have tried to explain to close friends and family, there is almost nothing I can touch upon that is truly the same between Mali and America.  Obvious things like food, religious practices, concepts of work, and living situations are all vastly different.  However, I find myself often mulling over cultural intricacies that are hard to explain without being here.  Relationships between people (not just gendered) are somehow experienced differently.  Warmth and love are certainly shared but picking up on the ways in which it is done takes time to understand.  Respect is an incredibly salient aspect to life in Mali but grasping the whys and hows of its manifestation requires careful observation and an inquisitive nature.  Its easy as a citizen of one country, or a member of a culture or group more broadly, to quickly criticize or set on a pedestal anything different.  This experience is only solidifying the ideas I have been formulating for a while now, that no country, group, or culture has it all figured out but to be careful to seek out those ways in which your beliefs and values match with theirs, if if you can only find a single instance, as its an opportunity for learning and growth.

    Living, working, and building relationships in a place so unfamiliar, so under resourced, so simple yet complicated, while simultaneously trying to get a handle on a language to communicate through has been a whole new kind of learning for me.  I have gone from a world of specific tasks, deadlines, and un understanding of cultural norms (even if there are many I disagree with) to a place where I establish my own schedule, have lots and lots of time to sit and think (no electricity goes a long way in providing a person with such) and a new understanding of myself with a big ol side of vulnerability and doubt.  While in school I knew what I needed to do on a day to day basis, the approximate ways to accomplish most tasks, and was pretty confident that I would get it done and that it would be done well.  Now, ha, its a whole different story.  I’ve done my needs assessment with the community but the sheer vastness and variety of things that need to happen in this small rural village are overwhelming.  So much of what needs to change stems from an individual and behavior change aspect – i.e. hand washing, proper nutrition and farming techniques, providing clean drinking water to the community – that the bigger issues – i.e. increasing education for girls, gender equality generally, creating opportunities for export of Malian made goods to improve the economic status of the country – seem almost untouchable.  I realize that many of the same type of problems arise in places like the US, but experiencing the difference in scale first hand is something else entirely. 

    In so many ways though I am a much healthier person in Mali than I ever was in the States.  First of all, with easy to measure things, like exercising regularly, cooking for myself everyday, spending copious amounts of time outside and reading, but also in smaller ways.  Much can be attributed to being a product of my environment, but because I have more time (i.e. forced time) I think and I write more.  I have the luxury of time to explore my thoughts and write to myself, my friends, my family about all the change I am seeing and the news ways I see and ideas I have about life.  I see the sheer physical strength and yet genuine warmth from the women in my village and the incredible resilience and competence of the small children.  I get to explore – in my mind and in my journal – how I see this altering my perception of people.  I think anyone even spending a few days to a few weeks here would easily experience this same type of exploration.  Free time.  Its a concept not really utilized in many circles, but I’ve realized its all about perception.  People in the states often say to me they would love the chance to read all the books they have wanted to for so long, self-learn a language, and write long-hand notes to family and friends, but there are days here where I would rather pull every last hair out of my head than decide between starting ‘The Fountainhead’, ‘The Grapes of Wrath’ or just drudging through another mystery novel when my iPod is dead, I can’t write letters due to a bad mood, or I’ve had it up to my forehead with practicing my Bambara verbs.  Perspective.

    Right now I’m hopeful that with the start of my small projects in full swing and a visit back to the States in single digit months from how that time will go quickly and I will continue my learning and feel productive along the way.  I’m feeling much more confident with the Bambara language as of late and can only hope it will continue to get easier.  The small things like the animal noises and the ridiculousness of Malian music and radio have begun to bother me less and I’ve certainly gotten more competent in creative one-pot cooking and feel like my body is stronger than its ever been.  I’m still working on making genuine Malian friends ( outside of the small children in my concession) and knowing that with patience and continuing to try with language that those will come.  I know I have to ‘trust the process’ as my fellow Community Organizers would say.  In so many instances I’ve put more trust in people and things here than I ever have in my life…so now why not give it to the process of international development work?!

    Thanks for reading.  Thanks for your support.  Thanks for trusting me in this decision even when I doubt it myself.  20 months to go – keep the thoughts, love, and letters a comin’ my way’.

Malian Education Part Fila (2)

    The government in Mali is Democratic and has a system of decentralization, meaning the power is theoretically in the hands of the village members themselves.  Each small town elects a mayor and the mayor and the mayor’s office are in charge of establishing – with the help of the Pedagogic Training Center located in the closest regional or ‘cercle’ capital – the School Management Committee (CGS).  This committee is ideally made up of many respected and committed community members to run the logistical aspects of maintaining the school, teachers, and parent/student association (APE).  My work counterpart in my village is the president of the CGS and just last month I sat in on their last meeting where topics like funding for school repairs, increasing enrollment – especially for the girls, and discussions about problems with instructors were discussed.  People within the village are encouraged to go to the CGS with issues they see and experience surrounding education and they relay them to the other members through monthly meetings.  This is how the decentralized nature of power works within Mali and it is seen especially clearly through the education system.  If a village does not rally itself and get motivated to make changes, the changes will not happen.  They have to be advocates for themselves which in so many ways is great but only if the community works together to instigate the change. 

    Adult literacy is an issue in almost all villages and towns within Mali.  Because the importance of education has only been made a priority relatively recently, many adults in Mali are illiterate.  The Bambara language – the most common local language in Mali – was only recently translated into written form as it has been used primarily at a village level.  Resources for the schools have begun to use the 13 local languages to help with instruction of French which is the language all the national tests are written in.  This creates issues with accessibility and consistency within the curriculum throughout many regions in Mali.  For instance, my town’s first language is Minianka, however instruction varies between Bambara and French.  So not only are these children hearing 3 different languages within their homes, the language they are learning through (Bambara) is not even their first language.  This fact has shown me how much potential there is within this country.  My work counterpart, for example, has a 5th grade level of education yet speaks Minianka, Bambara, and French fluently and is proficient in writing in Bambara and French.  There are also many people in my village who speak Arabic and there is one Madrassa –or Koranic school.  When I finished my needs assessment in my village one of the biggest requests was for help with training for adult literacy in Bambara since without being able to write in Bambara there is nearly no way to learn to read and write in French which is the only avenue for professional work within the country. 

    Okay so this is all a start as I get more acclimated with doing work around education here I will continue to update on what I learn through my experience.  If anyone has specific questions please feel free to leave a comment and I will write back as soon as I can!