Frustration

"Our frustration is greater when we have much and want more than when we have nothing and want some. We are less dissatisfied when we lack many things than when we seem to lack but one thing." -Eric Hoffer

After Rodney's last attempt at cooking I gave in and accepted all cooking responsibilities. I let the boys know though that they would be responsible for cleaning...and actually so far so good. So I was in the kitchen making another of my one-pot-wonders, we only have two burners, two pots and no microwave so even if you make food separately you end up having to mix it together to reheat it. Andrew asked me what I was cooking and I shrugged...isn't it always the same thing? Some kind of stew with more or less the same ingredients depending on what is available, served over rice to stretch it out. This time we had potatoes, squash, tomatoes and onions in a tomato-based sauce all over rice. And I was sweating of course since the kitchen is small and only has one window. Rodney had just asked me to explain what went wrong with the beans he cooked.

Andrew came in to inform us that there was a knock at the door but that it was dark and he couldn't see who was outside. I told him to turn the outside light on so he could see. He said he didn't like the idea of going to the door when he didn't know who was there and he fell in behind me and Rodney. I turned on the outside light and waited while it flickered and then stayed on. I still couldn't see anything. So I put my face to the glass and cupped my hands around it. He's right in front of you, Andrew said. And indeed he was...a massive man, only one foot in front of me with a door between us, who might have caused me a fright resulting in all sorts of heart and intestinal issues had I not immediately recognized him as Constance's husband Maxime. He had come to get us for tea and dinner since it was raining.

Constance served baked chicken with onions and fried plantains, the last of which immediately perked Andrew up. She had thought to bring us a bottle of water from the store and she insisted that I have Castel beer since I had tried Flag before but Castel is her favorite. Sophie was there but ended up being shy around the extra company until the end of our time there. Since Andrew speaks French but doesn't often speak and Rodney does not speak very much French, the conversation was not as carefree as it usually was, but the food and the dessert, honeydew melons and heavenly tasting mangoes more than made up for it. We stayed and talked for a while and then thanked them profusely before leaving. Maxime drove us back home so we wouldn't have to slosh our way through the puddles.

The next morning we had a meeting with Mali finance, a development arm of Chemonics. There I got my questions about production and the strangely bare lands just outside of Bamako. Few companies have been interested in setting up production operations in Mali since there transportation is an issue; there are no ports; there are frequent costly blackouts; and there is legal red tape. Therefore mango juice continues to be expensive though you can't throw a stone without hitting a mango. Also electricity is so expensive that it is cost-prohibitive for the poor. Instead they burn wood to cook, heat water for bathing etc. and so the area just outside of Bamako stretching for 20 km is bare of trees. I asked why electricity uses hydra-power in an arid country, why it didn't focus on solar power. I was told the technology is too new and expensive and requires frequent costs so wind power would be more feasible.

Well we had to take a taxi there since we didn't know where it was, and by the time we got home I was down to my last 400 CFA (a little less than 1 USD). I had been heartened though by an ATM we happened to come upon that boasted the Mastercard symbol. Could this be the only bank in all of Bamako that would take my card? Unfortunately I didn't have my card with me at the time and no longer had money to get back to the ATM. I did note where it was though. I should tell you that my attempts to Western Union money to myself from my own account fell through. The server realized that my IP address was in Mali although I claimed to be sending money from the States and the transaction was discontinued.

Rodney was worse off than me having only 50 CFA in his pocket. Luckily before I ran completely out of money I thought to go the the market and buy some food to cook. Andrew, the only one of us who had been able to get money before Friday, went to the store and bought snacks and juice for himself. He squirreled the snakc away in his room and tied the juice in a sack so we would know it was not for us, all the while eating from the communal pot. In his defense he did buy a carton of water for the household but he owed both Rodney and myself debts that he had not paid back yet because he didn't have enough money to at the time, even though he had more than we did.

So Friday evening I stayed on our street which was still very entertaining. One of the older gentlemen, who makes fun of how fast I walk, asked why I wasn't going out in the town. I am young I should be out partying he said. I'm out of funds so I need to stay close to home, I said. How much do you have, he asked, a couple thousand? No, I said, 400. He almost fell out of his chair. What? That's dangerous walking around the city with no money. That's nothing. He pulled a 10,000 CFA note out of his pocket and said hold onto this until you get your money. I refused saying the amount was too much (about 20 dollars), that I was a volunteer here and was used to not spending a lot. So he went into his pocket and found 4,000 and passed it to me. I don't think it dawned on me how completely crazy it is that someone I don't really know (I didn't at that time know his name is Mohammed Sangaré) and who only knows me as Fanta would lend me money and be concerned that I was down to my last funds when my own roommate could care less and would squirrel away food so as to avoid sharing. Rodney and I both were too through with Andrew, especially since he owed us both money and has still yet to pay it back.

My frustration with Andrew called up a host of other frustrations, the fact that my coworkers speak predominately in Bambera at work so I am in my own isolated world; the fact that I am restricted in my phone and internet communications; and the fact that I have to wait to see little Sophie to get hugs. Ah yes, it is hump week!

Note: I was able to get back to that one ATM in all of Bamako that accepts Mastercard and it did indeed work so everything is good now, but that was definitely a humbling experience. I tried to pay my friend back the next day by palming the funds I owed him and attempting to transfer the bills when we shook hands. He asked what is this? No take it; it's a gift. I said thank you but was wary of having what I felt was an outstanding debt. I saw my opening when he explained bazzin fabric to me and entreated me to pinch the fabric of his shirt between my fingers. I did so and dropped his money into his shirt pocket. When I left I told him to look into his shirt pocket. He shouted in surprise and called after me that I was a true magician.