Seven weeks down, one to go, and of course, the last week is already proving the most difficult. It's obviously a period of transition. Projects are ramping down and connections are ramping up. But my mind is already in Ghana, where I will be next week, and this process is a bit frustrating for me.
I am actually starting to feel the effects of being landlocked if that's possible. At every stage in my life I have always lived near a major tidal body of water. Part of that was intentional having grown up in California with the ocean playing a significant role in my life and well-being. And here in Mali, I am beginning to feel claustrophobic. Seriously. Perhaps I am used to movement of water as well as of things in my life and the pace is considerably slowed down here.
My next door neighbors come out of their apartment early in the morning and set up chairs, a stereo, and paraphernalia for tea. There they remain all day, watching the comings and goings of the street, perhaps crossing the street if they run out of tea, or to get in the shade of a stand there. When I leave for work they are there, as when I return. When I leave again for the evening they are there, as when I return. No matter the time of night it seems they are there holding court in front of the building. How can they just sit there day in day out just drinking tea and greeting people who pass by? These are young people! Some of the country's human capital is wasting away in my driveway...call the authorities!
Yesterday I wore a Malian outfit and noted the different reactions to me. Normally when I get on the Sotrame I say 'Aw Ni Sogoma' (Good Morning) and those on the bus respond with 'Nse' if they are female or 'Nbah' if they are male. Yesterday absolutely no one responded...a first. And instead I got curious looks. The same thing transpired when I transferred to my second Sotrame. In addition when I said the same thing I say everyday to get off the Sotrame there seemed to be confusion. I was asked to repeat myself again and again. Finally they stopped the Sotrame said something in Bambera about my pronounciation and laughed. That's never happened before but then again it was clear before through my dress that I was definitely not Malian.
On the way home I walked through the gas station across from Constance's boutique and she said she herself did not recognize me until long after she had been looking at me. Maybe there is something to the idea that the more you resemble something else, the more the parts of you that do not resemble it stand out. Maybe my pronounciation was not nearly so noticeable or unforgiveable as when I look more Malian. Like approaching infinity, the closer you get, the more distance you find you still have to cover. And how hypocritical am I being too when I want to fit in, but I also don't want to in some cases and I have no problem letting people know that I am not from here and I find their behavior toward me unacceptable. (Recently used when a guy grabbed my arm in an effort to keep the conversation going as I was walking away.) At any rate, Constance insisted I looked like a real Malian, and that I take a picture for my mother and my friends who read my blog so here goes.
Rodney says Constance had the right idea in mind when she opened her store. It makes her self-sufficient in a way that many other women are not. And it provides a way for her to be out of the house meeting people and living life. When I told Constance about Ouima she too expressed concern that 15 was too young to be married. That is the general sentiment in the city, though in Gao where Ouima is from that is a normal practice, and sometimes the girls are as young as 12. Recently a national law was passed to ensure that girls are not married before the age of 14 but how can it be implemented in these remote outreaches where officials do not necssarily agree... I asked Constance what a 15 year old would do once married. She said cook and have babies. Yeah ok, then what? I feel like I have stepped back in time.
The joke was on Constance with that tirade she launched on the guy who had asked for me. Turns out he is Zimbabwean and not Nigerian. Well then why do you hang out with Nigerians, she asked. He said they are his friends and Constance said he should watch the company he keeps or perhaps he is in Mali to sell drugs too. (Yikes! No inter-country issues here!) He insisted he is in Mali on legitimate business and that he eventually wanted to return to Zimbabwe and become president. Constance looked at him, laughed and said Are you sane? Aw, Constance don't be a dream killer.
Last night Maxime came by the store just before closing. He said he was going home. Constance asked him if he would take Jean, who was already sleeping, with him. He said when have you ever seen me carry babies around? Mohammed (who is from Algeria and is pictured above on the right) said Maxime that's your son! Maxime turned to me and said Tell her I am a man and babies do not concern men. Would you expect your husband to carry babies? I said actually yes I would. Where I'm from both fathers and mothers concern themselves with their babies. It's not too much to ask for you to carry your own son home in the car so Constance doesn't have to carry him on her back later is it? He said men here do not carry babies. And that was that. Constance had said nothing else. But I noticed she packed up a lot later than usual. I asked if Maxime wouldn't be waiting and worried and she said no, but sure enough her cell phone rang and he wondered what was keeping her. I have an idea he left her with Jean to ensure that the range of things she could do would be limited. And I have an idea that she came home later than usual just to let him wonder. Just my own thoughts...
Sunday Rodney scored a kilo of green beans at the market and I made a huge vegetable stew with lots of green vegetables. I haven't seen this much green in ages. It looks, feels, and tastes like heaven! Andrew only came out of his room on Sunday to eat the breakfast that Rodney cooked and the lunch/dinner that I cooked.
Fa came over briefly yesterday while she was borrowing her brother's moto. I saw her zip past the boutique and I started on my way home because I knew that's where she was headed. When I got there she was outside. She said she couldn't stay long, that she just wanted to say hi. She came up briefly where we ran into Andrew. After I introduced them he said hello and then walked off. Later she said that she didn't like him, that he wasn't nice. When I asked her why (because I wanted to hear it from her mouth) she said that she said when you meet someone you should show some interest in them. That his behavior had been rude. Indeed!
Amadou, who sells the orange cards, was telling me that Rodney and I seemed to enjoy people and that meant we could go anywhere in the world. That as long as you enjoyed people, they would take an interest in you and vice versa. Then he recounted that while Rodney and I have sat out evenings with him and his friends, debated, played checkers, listened to music and just swatted mosquitoes, Andrew only comes to get a phone card and does an about-face on his heel and leaves immediately. Amadou says that if Rodney and I needed anything people up and down the block would come to our aid, but that Andrew would be in for a rude awakening. Tacao, Amadou's cousin, came over to chat with Rodney the other day and Andrew left her standing outside a locked door in the dark while he went to tell Rodney someone (as if he didn't recognize her) was here to see him.
Saturday night though Andrew did heat up some of the odds and ends we had together in the house and fry some potatoes too to make a meal. I told Rodney I was happy that he was trying and he said let's be honest about what he did here. He heated up food that we made and paid for and sliced a potato or two and cooked it. Well, when you put it that way...lol!
Note: Right about now I would do just about anything for a hot shower with excellent water pressure, sushi, lots of leafy green vegetables, korean bbq, a freshly baked cake with frosting, a massage, manicure and pedicure...
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