Three weeks in...

Wow. I can't believe it's only been three weeks. It seems like so much has happened-- I've met so many new people and have been thrust into such a dramatically different culture. I've been back at Tubaniso, the PC headquarters, for the last two days. I've been trying to update this blog, but there's always a rush amongst the 66 PCTs here for the three lone computers in the small amount of time that we're here. Another aspect of life that delays communication and, unfortunately, that we've all become too familiar with, is a little thing we refer to as Mr. D / Mrs. C.... or less fondly, diarrhea and constipation. There is a smorgasbord (am I allowed to call it that?) of horrible g.i. problems one can encounter in Mali, from amoebas to worms to giardia and parasites. As the current volunteers tell us, you can not be fully inducted into Peace Corps Mali without shitting your pants at least once. Oh the joys of development work! I've actually been pretty lucky, as I've only spent one day bed-ridden and occasionally having to sprint to the nyegen (shit-hole in the ground). There are some people who haven't been able to keep anything down for almost a week. Once again, they say these attacks will become fewer and further in between. Inshallah (god willing), this is true.



Other than this nasty aspect of life, my time here has been great. I'm living in Dialakorobougou, taking language classes 7 hours a day, drinking lots of tea with my host family, and laughing/being laughed at for silly cultural differences. I've been given a Malian name-- Khadija Samake (the 3rd wife of Mohammed, and my last name means elephant). My family is actually Bambara, and as such do not speak the language I'm learning. This sounds more frustrating than it actually is though, because it is good to know some Bambara, as it is the lingua franca of Mali. Nonetheless, it is pretty exhausting to learn Doguloso at school all day, and then go home to a family that can't understand why my Bambara isn't improving substantially. Luckily my host brothers speak French, so I can speak on more than an infantile level with some people at the end of the day. Doguloso, the language I'm learning, is absurd. I honestly laughed the first time I heard it, and I imagine you will all think I'm making it up when I come home. No, there's no clicking or tongue smacking. But it's tonal and bizarre. To give you a taste, "what is your name" is "ino ohn ayahn gineh neh?" So sweet.

I live in a concession, or compound, with a Malian family comprised of my one-legged host mother Ramata (who manages to do EVERYTHING from cooking to laundry to cleaning, all day long), her four sons (Muhammed, Modibo, Modi, and Didi) who just sit there and listen to Akon on their cell phones, her daughter Oumou, and Oumou's 6 month old baby boy. The women are truly amazing here, they work all day long for little reward. My host mother's husband passed two years ago, and in the cultural tradition the younger brother of her husband married her after the death, to provide support to the family (although I haven't seen him-- or Oumou's baby's daddy-- a single time since being there). I get along with all of them wonderfully, and I feel truly lucky to have been placed here.

My technical training is very hands-on and thus far, rewarding. We planted a community vegetable garden in a neighboring town, and are learning soil restoration/composting/gardening techniques for this semi-arid climate. Coming from Oregon and a permaculture/organic farming background, this can seem sad and ridiculous at times. The compost here is not the beautiful houmous we're used to in the northwest, but rather a mixture of sand, clay, and 'compost' that is actually burnt trash. We have to sift through the compost to remove pieces of glass, plastic and junk. But we're learning techniques that are available to, appropriate and sustainable for local people, such as found container/rice sack gardens, pepinieres (tree nurseries planted in used plastic water bags), seed saving, and live fencing to keep the animals out.

Oh god, the animals. There's another topic. The damn 'fali' (donkeys) will be my downfall. They are the most pathetic creatures on earth, I swear. They just sit there and make the most ridiculous, loud and annoying squealing sounds ALL DAY long. (HeeehAAAAAAAw, heeehAAAAAw!) Starting at 5am. Before that are the considerably confused/mentally delayed roosters, who announce the sunrise far before it actually happens, at about 3am. Then we have the ratpack of dogs who are ostensibly guarding our compound, but I'm pretty sure they just bark and mate and bark and mate and bark some more. At all hours. THEN we have the bats. The bats that swoop down about a foot away from your head while you drink tea at night. We have a nest of baby bats in my room at the PC headquarters, they sound like mice and poop everywhere just like them too. There are also tons of goats and sheep, but they don't bother me so much, except for when I see my neighbors cooking their heads on a fire outside every once in a while.

Anyway, that is a bit of my life thus far. I will be going back to my homestay sight tomorrow morning, where I have no electricity or internet. I apologize for being so disconnected, but that's the way life is here. I'll be at homestay for another two weeks, then back to HQ for another couple of days, which is when you'll hear from me next. I 'swear in' with the Peace Corps and actually become an official volunteer on September 10, when I'll be moving to my site in Dogon country.

I send my love to all of you. I miss you all already-- you are in my waking thoughts and my dreams. Til next time...