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!