Solidarity

"I hope you had the time of your life..." song lyric

My last days in Mali seemed to have passed ibn a blur, now looking back, although at the time the minutes felt like hours. That always happens to me when I am looking forward to something.

There was no agenda, just spending time with all of my favorite people and doing the things that I liked to do. Unfortunately our trip to Dogon country was cancelled last minute in a manner that did not allow us to resume plans on our own. That was disappointing but such is life.

Rodney and I were both through with Andrew in our last days. We decided to hang up our benefactor coats and let him rough it and get his own food and water the last few days. He literally spent whole days in his room with the door closed to the point where Rodney texted him to see if he was still in there and even resorted to shutting off the fuse for the room to see if that could make him come out.

In his defense, maybe he was licking his wounds after I shared with him my very truthful but not so positive perception of his behavior during our time in Mali. I said that perhaps it was too late to change what had occurred here but that he could take this as a lesson for moving forward in life because my guess was that he didn't have many friends if he treated everyone the same way he treated us. Really though I don't think it phased him. He is still at a point where everything is about what he wants and not what is fair and he worries not about the consequences of his behavior. We did try though.

Rodney and I decided to have a get together at our place for all the people who had been so nice to us. We realized quickly that a lot of them did not know each other and so tomake the get together less awkward and also to be realistic, as we couldn't feed hordes of people, we settled on inviting 5 people over, Constance, MAxime, Amadou, Mamadou, and Tacao. We could have invited Xavier (Moses), Safi, Ouima, and Safararou etc. but these were people who were likely not to come alone and ultimately we had to draw the line somewhere.

I washed the muddy terrace. Tacao had come over a few days before and frowned at it asking why I didn't clean it. Well I did but everytime it rains and wind blows, more thick mud. I'd rather hose it down but no garden hose... And why am I the one that has to clean it? Realizing that our guests would frown upon me once seeing the terrace I got out a mop bucket and began to mop and scrub at the stubborn mud spots. Within a second I was perspiring. Tacao came over and indicated that she would halp. I thanked her but refused. So she came over and took the large rag away from me. What I had been trying to do was use the large squeegee on a stick to swish the large rag around, similar to mopping back home. Different ball game folks!

She dipped the rag in the water, wrang it out with her hands (I had been trying to avoid that close contact with the water) bent at the waist and began moving the cloth around the floor with her hands. MUCH more effective! So I imitated her. Then she swished more water out of the bucket onto the stubborn mud spots and squeeged them too. In this manner we cleaned the entirety of the terrace, the steps and the garage. Rodney kept trying to get her to leave with him but she said no that we were cleaning. Grateful again! The terrace was sparkling when we finished and ready for our grand party...

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

"You can't walk alone. Many have given the illusion, but none have really walked alone. Man is not made that way. Each man is bedded in his people, their history, their culture, and their values." - Peter Abrahams

The interplay between men and women is always everpresent in discussions and in interactions here. And of course, marriage is the pinnacle of that interplay. Rodney and I have talked about the idea of cross-cultural relationships. Our time here as made is so very evident that such concepts are extremely difficult to navigate in reality. Both parties come to the relationship with different expectations and different ideas for how the marriage should work (as if there weren't enough problems with that within cultures.) And when those expectations are not met, the partners are either faced with disappointment, a sense of failure to meet certain standards (their own failure or that of their partners), anger, frustration, or even the ridicule of their peers.

Rodney said he was dating a woman in South Africa who mentioned that if they were to get married his uncles would have to fly there and negotiate with her uncles how many cattle they would give the family for her hand in marriage. Rodney, aside from not being ready to talk marriage with her, thought the idea was preposterous. Why should he pay the wife's family for his wife? Would that mean he had bought her, literally? While the idea was distasteful to him, the idea of not receiving a dowry was distasteful to the woman, whose family paid to educate her well, to standards higher than most around her, and who had come to expect that they would one day be receiving cattle for her hand in marriage. What other cultural landmines would lay beneath the surface of the road they might travel together or their joint life journey?

And Maxime's friend came into the store the other day and tried to convince Constance that she should be at home. She had told me before that Maxime didn't want her to work. The friend said at the very least she should close her boutique at 4pm when normal business hours ended and go home and tend to the family. I asked him if the family was not tended to and he said that wasn't the point. That a wife's place was at home. Constance ignored him and I'm sure it's nothing she hadn't heard before. But also being Malian and being raised in Mali she was well aware of the resistance she would be facing. And then I think of all the people who have tried to convince me to marry while here and I think that they would have absolutely no idea what they were in for, if I was foolish enough to take someone up on that idea, and I guess that goes two ways.

I have still been trying to wrap my mind around 15 year old, 8th grade Ouima getting married. She told me about the 15 outfits a tailor is currently creating for her. But when I gave Ouima and her sister Safaraou my contact information, Safaraou said that while she would email me, Ouima had neither email nor a cell phone. I guess she wouldn't at this point but I hope that gets rectified soon after she gets married. But what leverage is she coming into the relationship with...no job, no money, no phone, little education, no accomplishments on her own. And I know it is my Westernized background that leads me to think this way, but God help her if her husband is not generous with her.

Tacao was telling us that her father died when she was young leaving her mother and brother and herself without a man in the house. Her mother, a science professor who used to travel regularly to Canada and France, got remarried to a man who already had one wife and went on to marry two more, for a total of four wives. While he forbade Tacao's mother to work, neither did he give her money. The family lived on handouts from relatives and that is why 20 year old Tacao has refused to marry to date. She says it is most important that she gets an education and a good job so she can support her mother and younger brother. So while she studies she works braiding hair and doing nails and henna designs at her cousin Amadou's phone card stand.

Yet Mamadou, Amadou's friend, says that men are the ones that suffer from the Malian idea of marriage. Everything that is purchased for the house and the wife and the children, the man must buy, he says. Now I ask you, who is really a captive of this situation? Mohammed who is from Algeria says the same thing. That Malian women don't want to work but want to stay at home and spend a lot of money (Mohammed is divorced from a Malian women). Which comes first, the chicken or the egg, the women wanting to stay at home or the men insisting? The men giving money or the women wanting it? And if people want to move outside these constrictions is there room for that.

And with the women staying at home all day, many men in Mali don't cook. I mean at all. And they say this proudly. Rodney replies that he thinks everyone who eats should know how to cook, even if they don't cook, so they can be self-sufficient and not vulnerable to another. But then to me, Rodney says that women in Mali can't afford to be too busy to cook for their man because their competition will. I said that is true, but most of the women here do that and still their husbands are committing adultery right and left anyway so what gives.

When Mamadou said that men are the true captives, having to pay for everything for their families, I agreed. He was surprised. I said yes whenever you keep someone in prison, you yourself have to be in prison to keep them there. That if societal constraints were lessened reduced, partners could feel free to work together to set up their households in a manner that best worked for them. That rather than a woman waiting for her husband to give her money she could find work if she so desired. But as long as the great majority of men have the only household money (and thus power) and their wives are restricted to the house, the concepts of equality, partnerships, and a robust workforce will not change and the development of the country will continue to face roadblocks.

Note: Yesterday Rodney, Tacao and I went to the river and found a litter of three abandoned kittens. We called Constance if she wanted one for Sophie and brought it back. (A lot of people here are unnaturally scared of cats. They think they are withces.) The kitten began adjusting to its new home, walking amongst the cabinets and feet and chair legs in the store and drinking milk Constance had set out for it. I felt bad for the others we left but one of Constance's friends is interested in having one as well so we will go back. No one wants the female kitten though as she could get pregnant and have a litter. Life is hard for females of all species...

Back to the Beginning

"You cannot teach a crab to walk straight." - Aristophanes

The landlord came over to fix the lights in our bedrooms and the kitchen. Four days before leaving, he finally comes to fix the lights we complained about when we arrived 7 ½ weeks ago!! What do you make of that?

We had our goodbye/thank you get together on Friday at Mieko’s house. Andrew organized his own ride there shortly before I arrived home as he said he didn’t know what the house plans were. I questioned why he had arranged something with someone else rather than arranging with his own roommates. That we have always gone to events together from the house. He said he assumed we had taken care of our own arrangements. I said no that once again we had considered him without him considering us and I asked why he would assume something without confirming with us. At any rate, Rodney had to go straight there as he left work late. And Andrew left me at the house to ride on a moto with his work colleague to the party that I helped organize. Gotta love it! So after taking my time so as to allow myself to release my frustration with him (yet again) I hopped into a taxi that ended up having engine problems. I was able to find another taxi but the ordeal wasted precious time and I arrived 45 min late.

Turns out the get-together wasn’t much of a party. Rodney says that when he arrived, Coumba and Sogonna were there as were Andrew and Kadiatou (Andrew’s colleague from work) and Andrew was reading a magazine while the three ladies looked at each other. Awkward! Rodney tried to facilitate a conversation but his French language skills aren’t on the same level as Andrew’s. Mieko served dinner and Coumba and Sogonna left after half an hour and I arrived shortly afterwards. Rodney made me a plate and Mieko asked where I was coming from since I had chosen this occasion to wear a Malian outfit. I said I was coming from home. Kadiatou frowned and whispered to Andrew shaking her finger. I guess she realized that he had her pick him up while leaving someone else at the house who was going to the same event. Rodney and I both noticed that he opted to leave with us though and not with her. I thought about telling him to go ahead and ride with her because he certainly wasn’t invited to share my taxi but I bit my tongue.

Mieko gave us all the leftovers and while Rodney and I packed them up, Andrew waited in the livingroom. She called him to come and help but he didn’t. And when we had trouble carrying everything he carried only the salad and the cookies, the two lightest things. I decided then and there that I would no longer concern myself with being thoughtful where he was concerned. The program is officially over, though we don’t leave until Tuesday. I did my job as Group Leader, and I actually extended myself a lot more than others thought was necessary given the circumstances. And I’m done with that. He’s in for a rude awakening for the next few days because I will no longer be sharing my food, cooking skills, labor, water or energy with a cad. ANd thank goodness I no longer have to!

Limitations

"Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them." - Albert Einstein

I left early for work and, in doing so, got a ride with Rodney and his coworker. They dropped me off at the Tour D'Afrique, a traffic circle with a monument to Africa in the middle of it and flags from all 54 African countries surrounding it. Rodney had assured me it was a 10 minute walk from that monument to my job.

Forty minutes later I arrived at work. Why did I keep walking and not hop on a Sotrame? Well for one I was convinced that I would get there any second, and after that it was to prove a point that I believe would be lost if I didn't time the walk the whole way. For the record it took me 43 minutes. Rodney apologized and said he guessed he was getting jaded with distances like the Malians. (When a Malian tells you something is 5 minutes away, run to the nearest Sotrame or taxi.)

I arrived just in time to take pictures of Coumba leading a module of a training session. I was heartened to see more women in this one, including Sogonna's little sister. After the module Coumba and I left to attend Sogonna's defense of her thesis on youth views on family planning in Commune VI in Bamako. We piled into a classroom at Ecole Superieur ANSUP (a university) in the Quartier du Fleuve (River District). Sogonna sat before a panel of two jurists, which became three an hour into the session.

I was surprised how hard and uncomfortable the benches in the classroom where, that windows were broken out and had not been repared so that people could jump in and out of the windows if they so desired, except that we were on the second floor, and so that holding class in the rain might be a near impossibility. But also some of the windows onto the interior hallway were also broken, allowing all of the hallway and courtyard noise from several levels to come into the classroom and drown out most of what was being said. Definitely not an environment conducive to learning.

Well Sogonna appeared nervous at times, presenting her thesis. And several times people came in and greeted the jurists while she was talking and then walked out. Are you kidding me? And then the jurists had their turn to present every problem they encountered. That went on and on and on and I started wondering if they would accept the thesis even though most of their issues were trite things like a missing s, or the annex and bibliography being combined. They asked everyone to leave and conferred and when we were invited back they congratulated Sogonna on the acceptance of her thesis. We had soda and pastries and took pictures.

On the way back home, Ouima called out to me. I went and sat with her and her nieces and nephews for a while in the shade of the tree in front of their house. And then Ouima suggested we show each other dances. She was particularly interested in the bellydancing Shakira does in her videos and I was interested in traditional Malian dances. I suggested we move into the courtyard (away from the eyes of the street) and we amused ourselves dancing until we were exhausted. Ouima announced it was time to eat. We washed up and sat on chairs in the courtyard ringing a large bowl on a stand. She gave me a fork which I appreciated and uncovered lunch... okra stew with beef!

God no! I'll eat anything but slimy okra stew where the sticky, viscuous sauce stretches from the plate to the spoon and slips in goops down my throat, eliciting my gag reflex. Come on Julayne you can do it! They are going to think you are rude if you don't eat. I reached forward and got a bunch of rice on my fork. The next bite was not so lucky, there was stew also in the bite. I forced myself to focus. Chew....now swallow...swallow!...try to swallow again!! Eat, eat! Ouima urged, as is polite to do. I smiled and nodded and got another forkful with some sauce on it. She pointed out a piece of meat and said I should eat it. I did, again chewing and swallowing with extreme concentration. You haven't eaten much, Ouima complained, pointing out the large dents in the bowl in front of everyone else, including the toddlers. You're right, I said. I just ate and I'm not very hungry (not exactly a lie if you count the pastry at Sogonna's graduation). I thanked her for the meal and moved away from the bowl to allow them to finish. Phew! Another disaster averted.

Bare Necessities

"Someone deprived of the basic necessities of food and clothing has no reason to love his country; he cares little whether his state prospers or perishes. Thus, the state stands to lose if national wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few, and to gain if it is distributed equitably. Where there is gross disparitybetween the life standards of the rich and poor, it means the state has reached the brink of disaster." - Gabra-Heywat

"Sanaoulolo" by Malian singer Ami Koita on YouTube
Don't you just love technology?

This morning as I was on the Sotrame I started thinking about how little I had described the experience. You know that they can get very crowded and that they are tinderboxes in the heat. But did you know that they have both a driver and a "collector" who sits in the back and collects the money. He also hangs his head out the window calls out the names of the neighborhoods where they are headed, although somewhat intelligibly, and identifies people a mile away who want to get on. When this happens, he bangs on the side of the vehicle to get the driver to stop, jumps out the side door while the vehicle is moving (the side door is only closed when it gets crowded or when it is raining) and accompanies the prospective fare back to the Sotrame. If they are carrying a heavy bucket he takes it for them so they canboard quickly. Often the Sotrame will start moving again once the passenger is seated but before he is back in his spot and he will run after it and jump back on. Sometimes when it is crowded there is no place for him to sit so he hangs on to the side of the Sotrame with his lower half inside. When the Sotrame closely passes other vehicles he will duck his body inside. Craziness! And that's before you get to a major hub where a lot of the Sotrame's stop. The collectors all chase prospective fares and try to get them to get on their Sotrames and not any others (often times two Sotrames will be going the same place and they are very much competing with each other to fill up their vehicles and get the most fares.) Quite a way to start the morning amidst all that hustle and bustle.

A few nights ago Sophie was up all night throwing up. Constance took her to the hospital in the morning where she was given two shots to help her system fight malaria. She was better later that afternoon and she asked Constance to send a package of cookies home from the store. And that's in Bamako where there is a hospital, and people are likely to be able to get to it with relative ease. I shudder to think what happens in rural outreaches in the same case.

I asked Constance what she thought about excision - female circumcision. She said that she didn't believe in it. That it may be tradition but enlightenment has shown that it is dangerous and therefore we should act as if we are living in 2000s and not the 1800s. She said she would not excise her daughter. I asked if she was worried about someone else doing it and she said that doesn't happen in Bamako. The subject of excision is really hush hush here. Everyone knows that it is practiced but no one really talks about it. There are posters in the clinic proclaiming that parents should refuse to excise their daughters, but I don't know if everyone there agrees with that stance or if they just think that is the politics of the place they work. And even if parents refuse it, in many parts of Mali, another relative can legally take the child to be excised even if the parents are against it. So what protection is that? Rodney says he met a man whose two year old daughter had a life-threatening infection from being excised. And Constance said one of her cousins died at the age of 12 shortly after being excised. Furthermore, those that don't die can have other complications including the hemorraghing to death, transmission of HIV, painful intercourse, an increase in future risk of infections and severe complications during pregnancy.

I sat with Constance in her boutique for hours and then a friend of hers came in with a bag. I lit up because I could see that there were Koras inside. Are we going to play, I asked. Her friend nodded and said yes and handed the bag to Constance. She pulled a Kora out and handed it to me. I was getting ready to tell her that I didn't know how to play it, when I read the writing on the skin on the front of the instrument: Julayne (Fanta Cisse). The other said Rodney (Moussa Samake). My mouth was open for what seemed like ages. Of course, thank you, you shouldn't have, oh my god came out of it finally. Constance just smiled like she'd hit the jackpot. She said she'd told her friend to go get the koras the day before. And for all I know she could have said it in Bambara right in front of me and I'd have been none the wiser. Rodney was equally pleased with his when he dropped by the boutique later.

Rodney and I have been going through all of our pictures. We will be putting them online where you can access them with just a link. He has pictures of camels and outdoor classrooms and the sparse rural north. That was something to see. Can't wait to share it with you. We started packing yesterday so we would know ahead of time if we were going to have problems with our baggage. It seems like everything will fit though. My bags lost a lot of weight in toiletries so that's good.

The other day a man borrowed credit from Constance on the premise that he would pay her back when his money transfer came in later that day. But his transfer didn't come in as expected and when he wanted more goods she refused. He said he was upset with her. And she said he had been upset when he came in, that he must not have gotten the money he was expecting, but that it had nothing to do with her. Then he said he wasn't going to patronize her store again. She walked past him carrying a lot of sodas to restock the fridge. That's fine with me, she called over her shoulder, but I wonder what storekeeper you think will extend you the credit I extended you. He thought about this while fuming. Constance's friend told him not to say things he didn't mean out of anger and encouraged him to sit down and relax a while. He did and five minutes later we were all debating something completely different. Turns out we started debating in English because the man did not speak French well, neither does Rodney, and Constance's friend teaches English so he was fine. So Constance finished stocking the fridge and then she asked us if it was right that we were sitting in her store debating in a language she couldn't understand? She wanted to know if we thought that was normal? We apologized and began switching back and forth with people speaking what language they could and having others translate.

I saw a man last night sitting out on a bench on a main street, one with overhead lights, and reading with a stack of books next to him. I thought he was waiting for a Sotrame, but it turns out he was just taking advantage of public electricity to do some night reading.

Heard on the Street: The director of an NGO that will remain unnamed was recently in an accident that totaled the car, an expensive luxury model. Rumor has it that the accident was karma for having misappropriated funding from the NGO to buy the luxury car and build a stately mansion from the ground up from which only the director and family were to benefit.

Landlocked

"I think I can. I think I can..." - The Little Engine That Could








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...

On the River

"You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty." - Mohandas Gandhi



















I have officially seen it all...two men on a moto, sandwiching between them a hog-tied sheep. A live sheep! Are you kidding me?

For a full week now, we have not had water in the taps during the hours between 7 am and 11pm. It makes for an exhausting, hot, sticky, smelly, and frustrating day. Sometimes there is water available in the downstairs spout, the one in the garage. So we fill up bottles and tote them upstairs and use them for all sorts of needs. Today there was water all day long. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it stays that way for the duration of our time here.

Recently I have heard Malians complaining about their diet. Rice, rice, rice, they say. Every day rice! (I thought I was the only one longed for more variety.) Granted there are potatoes and beans, as well, but even then... I have definitely gained an appreciation for being able to eat foods when they are out of season.

When I was sick and Constance brought me tea several nights ago she also brought a plate of food that I couldn't even think about eating at that moment. I thanked her and put it in the fridge. The next day I went to eat the plate of food and it was nowhere to be found. You guessed it! Andrew ate it.

When I confronted him he said he thought it was left over from the night before. I said it was, but it wasn't yours. He said he thought I had cooked and left the plate for him. I said Andrew I was in bed sick all day, I haven't been cooking. Furthermore when have you ever seen anyone cook meatballs or any meat in this house? He said he didn't know. I said well when you don't know you ask someone. There is plenty of community food that you could have eaten but you went straight for something that you weren't sure about and devoured it. He brusquely offered to pay me back the value of the food and I accepted.

Rodney said he liked how Andrew ate food that was clearly not his and then only apologized and went to his room without offering to somehow make amends somehow whether it be a replacement dinner or a refund. Glad I was persistent and tapped on his door so we could come to a real resolution. Rodney and I figured it was probably because the water was out in the taps and he was being lazy and didn't want to have to heat up other food and then go downstairs to get water to wash out the pots.

Friday we had a meeting with the head of Africare in Mali. On our way back Rodney and I stopped at Constance's boutique and chatted with her. Just as we were going to leave and go home to heat up some food she insisted we stay and eat there. And she uncovered a platter of a Senegalese rice and fish, with eggplant, yam, carrot, cabbage and a hint of tamarind and lemon. I asked Constance to eat with us and she said that we should eat. I asked what she was going to eat and she said not to worry about her, that she was at home. We scraped every last bit of food out of that platter. Not only was it delicious but it was nice to eat something that we didn't have to toil over. So then Rodney and I simultaneously got the same idea.

An hour later we were back at the boutique with a meal for Constance. Now it's not a meal I would write home about (well technically I guess I am) but we fried plantains, made grits and served over the grits the "boot" sauce we made on Sunday with everything but our boots in it. Seriously, it's a tomato sauce with tomatoes, lentils, potatoes, onions, garlic, eggplant, peppers, carrots, and lots of spice. Well Constance loved it so much that she called Maxime to come from their house to come taste it. Another of her friends tasted it and said he wanted the recipe. Are you kidding? And they had never thought of eating grits in that way. They boil them with milk and sugar and eat it as a dessert. I guess though we eat the same things a slight difference in how you cook it can make it interesting to someone else.

I hung out with Fa yesterday. She is so spirited and fun that I always enjoy myself. She and her sister Aisha turned the music up and we danced. Fa asked me to translate Celine Dion's "Goodbye" for her and though I did on the first go round she made me listen to it many more times. The pics above are her but she took her braids out in case you can't recognize her. Somehow we got to talking about the US and she and her sister told me in school they learned that we had 52 states. No we only have 50 I said, that's why there are 50 stars on the flag. They said really? And then honestly I started to doubt myself. What could possibly be confused for the other 2 states? Puerto Rico sure but the other??? Rodney said maybe it was the US Virgin Islands. Not sure but interesting...

Fa told me that Ouima, the 15 year old with whom I can talk very little with, is engaged to be married to a cousin who asked for her long ago. He is a 32 year old doctor so at least she will be living well, but my god the marriage takes place in a month. A 15 year old getting married? She's in 8th grade for crying out loud. (There is a picture of her above as well in a green top.) The funny thing is when I first met her I asked if she was married and she said no I'm only 15. I'm still a child. So when I found out I said Ouima, I heard you were getting married and you didn't tell me. I upset with you. She said it wasn't true. For a second she had me, but then when I asked about the details I had been told, she alternated between denying it, giggling behind her hand, and asking who had told me. So I said congratulations and best wishes for her marriage (what else is there to say) and she said thank you.

This morning Rodney and I got up early, took some food on a hike and ate it on a hillside overlooking Bamako. Nice view, very relaxing. Then he showed me around the dock area where small wooden boats are made and pitched with tar; trucks come in to get wet sand for construction purposes; and everything is bustling.

As we walked near the water some men offered us a boat ride. We declined because of a language barrier and we thought they were looking to be paid. Then as we continued to walk along the banks we saw them out on the water and waved to them. They pointed to an area where they could dock and indicated that we could still come out with them. So we took them up on the offer and joined them and a small toddler out on the boat.

Everything is beautiful when you're on the river. We saw people using large flat rocks to wash their clothes and lay them out to dry, children swimming. Even one of the men in our boat jumped in to swim and came back with two fish that someone had given him. One woman was singing and washing her clothes with a friend. This sounds so cliche, but her voice was beautiful and I could have listened to it all day. We docked and they told us they were going to wash so we scrambled up the hillside to give them some privacy.

In the distance there was a gorgeous house overlooking the river with a wraparound porch. My God that would have to be a lovely view night after night. When one of our friends joined us later he said the land we were on is owned by Salif Keita, a famous griot who recently did a remix of his 1989 song "Nou Pas Bouger (We Won't Move)" with popular urban Malian group L'Skadrille. The song is in protest of the French government's repressive policy toward immigrants, specifically those of African origin and 17 years later it is still relevant enough to have been remixed and re-released. It is very popular here.

Since I have been in Mali my mom has ordered some African films through Netflix and enjoyed seeing some of the relationships and issues I have described. The following movies are set in places as far apart and varied as Mali, Senegal, South Africa, and Chad but they come with mom's recommendation. Yesterday is about a Zulu woman struggling to raise her daughter in rural South Africa, who is further troubled when she learns that she has gotten HIV from her husband who is away working in the city. (I saw this one and it is excellent!) Moolaadé depicts a Senegalese village as it tackles the issue of female circumcision. Life on Earth: 2000 Seen By... is about life in rural Mali and a man who weathers a world disaster in a bucolic village. A young man in Mali travels to find his uncle in hopes that he might be able to help him solve his problems in Yeelen. Mandabi is about a Senegalese man who hits one bureaucratic roadblock after another as he tries to convert a money order from a wealthy relative to cash. Abouna is about two boys in Chad who set out to find the father who has abandoned their family; and, Xala is a Senegalese comedy about the trials and tribulations of a man with three wives.

Also a new book recommendation The Marabi Dance by Modikwe Dikobe. It tells the story of youth in South Africa caught in the gap between the old world and its ways and the new world post-colonization.