"Junior's Farm"

Yaba Daba Doo!


I came to the recent realization that rainy season is more than half over and I've yet to post an agriculture-related video. So here you are. I don't know about you, but I get exhausted just watching this video for 54 seconds. And those kids are out there all day. Most of the clearing, planting, weeding, and general field-tending in my area is done by guys with hand tools. No horse. No donkey. No plow. Just the daba. Dabas (the short-handled hoe seen here) are as ubiquitous among the Malian male 8-40 segment as knock-off designer purses are among the American female 12-30 segment. Girl, you know eeeeevverybody got one. Now that it's Ramadan, people aren't working so hard. That is both because no one has the energy (you know, due to lack of eating) and most of the hard work (planting) has been finished for a while. Now we wait for harvest time. We've had good rain and the millet's looking pretty tall, so I am anticipating a bountiful yield. You know, because I'm an expert in the field...

"Changes"

Aw ni ce. I just got some fun (and belated) news. Apparently, there was a recent (bloodless) coup d'etat in neighboring Mauritania. According to Peace Corps Mali's Country Director, "As coups go, it was pretty quick, neat and clean. " Lol. You know, as coups go... Actually, I think I'll let him fill you in on the rest of the details:

Dear Volunteers,
As you may have heard by now, yesterday morning at 4:00 a.m. there was a coup d'etat in Mauritania. As coups go, it was pretty quick, neat and clean. The national radio and television stations were taken over, as was the airport and presidential palace. The president was arrested and replaced by an army general. From all accounts, it all happened without a shot fired. Supposedly the military junta that seized power will be organizing democratic elections in the near future. Needless to say, hold off for the time being on that dream vacation you were planning to Mauritania. Below you can see a summary of where things are at vis-a-vis PC/Mauritania.

Hope you're all doing well, and hey, we could be in Mauritania...

Peace Corps:
-Standfast has been lifted and Volunteers are returning to their villages & sites.
-PCV travel to Nouakchott is restricted without advance approval from PC/Mauritania.
-Volunteer mood is expressed as relief that the coup was calmly executed without incidents of violence.
-Previously scheduled Mid Service IST has been cancelled -A few COSing Volunteers may be able to leave today.
-Volunteers encouraged to contact their families to let them know they are safe -All staff on hand.
-CD returning as scheduled on Friday (tomorrow).

Country:
-Transfer of power seems to be complete and there is some public support for the military junta. -Airport is now open (was closed yesterday), and the borders are open, all is calm and business as usual.
-The American Ambassador in Mauritania expressed that Mauritania may receive less foreign assistance and lose international prestige, but that there are no safety and security concerns at this time. There are scheduled political demonstrations for both sides (supporting the new and old presidents). These demonstrations are expected to be orderly.


I'm sure the new Malian trainees are glad the situation in Mauritania is stable. The last time there was trouble in the region, Mali's training center (Tubaniso, for those of you in the know) became the home for ALL of Guinea-Conakry's volunteers for over three months. And there ain't no way our new kids are sleeping two to a bed and sharing their nyegens for those jokesters in Mauritania. They're mean AND they stink at softball. Take THAT, Nouakchott!

"Little Green"

Sanji na na! Sanji na na! The rains have come. Merciful Allah has granted us welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat of hot season. My mom asked me once a few months back if there was grass anywhere in Mali. And I said no. But that's not true. After the very first rain, the land just EXPLODED into greenness. It's like there was this great verdant mystery locked underground waiting for water. I don't think I ever doubted the fecundity of the Malian soil. After all, over 80% of people here make their living in agriculture. I guess I just forgot that this place could resemble anything other than a big pile of reddish dirt.

The joys of rainy season are chiefly the diminution of the temperature and thusly the ability to sleep inside (which is convenient, considering it's not too fun to sleep in the rain) as well as the extra downtime. Malians generally don't leave their homes if it's raining. Not for meetings. Not for church. Not for work. Not even for play. You can't really blame them considering the state of the dirt roads during the inevitable flash floods that occur every time it rains. The cons of rainy season include the aforementioned sorry state of roads, the "stuff" that gets washed out into the street, being forced to walk through this "stuff", the deafening roar of rain on my tin roof, and the occasional face full of mud from my bedroom ceiling (conveniently located on the dirt roof side of my house). However, the fact that it didn't get above 86 all day last week is worth all the unpleasantries.

If it's anything like last year, it will rain almost every day in August and the millet harvest will be bountiful. N'shallah. In other news, we're all pretty weirded out that we can say things like, "If it's anything like last year..." because we can't believe it's already been that long. In addition to disbelief, most of us are also suffering from the Peace Corps one-year slump of legend. Apparently, the one year mark is a danger zone for quitting due to a general feeling of "Holy cow, I have to do this ALL OVER AGAIN??" and the lack of productivity in general during rainy season. We're hoping the arrival of the new kids (who hopped off that Air France plane bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on July 10th) will inject some much-needed energy into our lives. On verra la vie en vert.

"Feelin' Alright"

It's mid-service medical exam time! I'm in Bamako fulfilling my obligation to subject myself to being pricked, poked, and prodded in the name of PCV health. On the bright side, I get to stay in the Peace Corps med unit for free (no hotel voucher needed!) and take a break from site. Even though I just did that in Ameriki. Anyway, after an 8 AM appointment with the most decidedly not gentle Lebanese dentist, my PCV pal and I walked to the bloodwork lab across the neighborhood, ate some lunch, and finished the day with full physicals from the Peace Corps Medical Officer. On the bright side, we were later invited to dinner at a new friend's house. A lovely South African gentleman (last name DeBeer - he's in mining) cooked up some pot roast and potatoes which we ate with some awesome spicy peach and apricot chutney. Delish. Now it's time to go back to site for a few days before I leave again for a 4th of July celebration in Siby. Happy birthday, America!

"In the Waiting Line"

Well that was quick. I’m back in Mali after what the calendar says was three weeks home in the States. Thank you to all who made my visit a truly lovely one. Unfortunately, there is a long list of people I wanted to see and didn’t; I guess that’s just another good reason to go back! That and Mexican food.

In lieu of philosophical discussions on reverse culture shock and new perspectives on old familiar things, I have a fun story from my travels back to Africa. After a three hour flight from Nashville to New York and a four hour layover hanging out alone in JFK, I was a little sad to get on my nine hour New York to Casablanca flight, knowing I had another twelve hours to spend alone wandering around the airport. I slept almost the entire nine hours and landed in Casablanca sometime before noon. As I was standing up to deplane, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It turns out another Mali PCV had been in the row directly behind me the entire time, unbeknownst to either of us. Awesome, I thought, now I have a buddy with whom to wander the airport.

We stood in line to have our passports stamped and chatted about how many official vacation days we’d used up. Then a woman behind us in line said, “Excuse me, are you Peace Corps Volunteers?” We were like, “Uh yeah, how’d you know?” She said the vacation allotment discussion was a familiar one to her. She was an RPCV from Morocco on her way to Mali do some research for her graduate program. We were on the same flight to Bamako. Now I had two friends for all day airport wandering!

After a little whining about how long the day was going to be, our new Moroccan RPCV friend said, “Well, I had this idea before but didn’t want to do it alone. But now that I’ve got you guys… You wanna go to Rabat?” I hadn’t realized that the capital of Morocco was just a 45 minute train ride from the Casablanca airport. She assured us that although it had been two years since she’d been back, she knew where to get the train, where to switch lines, where to have some delicious chawarma and coffee, and how to get back to the airport in time to catch our flight to Bamako. That decision wasn’t too tough to make.

I changed some euros for dirham in the airport, explained to the customs official that we were just going to Rabat for the day (yes, I know, my flight is tonight, thank you, sir), bought a train ticket and took off down the coast (which is gorgeous). We got off at the equivalent of Union Station in downtown Rabat and took and informal walking and taxi cab tour of the city. We saw the king’s personal mosque, a union protest on the main square, the old walled city, the old Portuguese ramparts by the ocean, and took a walk through a souk (market) so lovely and colorful I didn’t want to leave. Malian markets do not hold a candle. After fresh squeezed orange juice, mint tea, and fried bread (“fat girl bread”) we got back on the train for Casa feeling like accomplished world travelers.

I was very thankful to have found new friend who, coincidently, is the girlfriend of another Moroccan RPCV whose father is a Malian PCV from my stage. From Cleveland, Tennessee. How’s THAT for a small world! I have the good feeling that this will not be the last time the worldwide Peace Corps network provides me a great opportunity. I was also very thankful to have my French without which I may have been slightly less inclined to embark on such a spontaneous jaunt with someone I’d known about 10 minutes. Schoolhouse Rocky was right: Knowledge is power! And freedom.

Summary: America is great, I was glad to be home, but go to Morocco. It’s pretty fabulous. You can skip Mali.

P.S. You know I wouldn’t leave you without some photographic evidence: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2119216&l=7bc69&id=1404038

"Hot in Herre" *

April is the cruelest month...

...but it doesn't have anything to do with Eliot or Chaucer. It's just flippin' hot outside. Since April is the hottest month of dry season and given that the second most common question I get (behind “How are you? Sick?”) is, “So, is it really hot?”, I will attempt to answer that question.

Umm… yes.

Until about mid-March it hadn’t been too bad - hot, but not REALLY hot. Unfortunately for... everyone in Mali (minus that one guy who sells ice), dry season is in full swing. Hot dry season, I should say. Mali has two seasons: rainy and dry, with dry season being subcategorized into hot and cold. We arrived in country in July - in the middle of the rains, which provide almost daily relief from the heat. Not too bad. But besides some freak sprinkles around the first of December, it hasn’t rained since Halloween. Novemberish through Februaryish is referred to as “cold” dry season. The quotation marks are warranted. There was a list in a recent Mali Rag with the observation, "You know you're a Mali PCV when you reach for your sweatshirt if the temp drops below 80. "Cold" is anywhere between 60 and 80. Anything below that would be better described as "frigid", at least in the southeast. Believe it or not, 80 does seem pretty cool after you've been here a while. There were nights in Bamako in January that must've been in the 50s, and it was FREEZING, even to me. Now we sit around the San stage house pining for those chilly nights.

I don't have an accurate source for temperatures at my site (oddly, The Weather Channel doesn't cover Kimparana and most PCVs' thermometers have gone haywire - mine often reads 118) but I can say with confidence that it is over 100 every single day. The news said yesterday it was 109 in a town near me. Some people back in Ameriki say, "Oh, that's not so bad. I live in Florida and it's been 105." Yeah, but what people in Ameriki forget is that in Ameriki you can escape the heat easily - in your air conditioned home, office, car, restaurant, bank, etc. You can get some ice cream. You can buy a cold beverage. You can plug in a fan. Malila you're lucky to have some big trees in your courtyard. It's not that experiencing 109 is unbearable. It's that experiencing 109 from 9 AM to 5 PM with no reprieve is pretty harsh. And it's hotter INSIDE than it is OUTSIDE. Apparently I'm the only one who's noticed that the houses are made of the same material as the OVENS, for the sake of Pete. It's almost impossible to sleep (who's ever thought I could say something like that?) indoors, so everyone camps outside in the courtyard every night. I'm assuming this will go on until it starts raining again and we're forced back into our mud ovens. You'd think the coming of the rains would be a sorely anticipated event. I'm not so sure. Even if it did start raining now, I’m told that the beginning of rainy season is almost worse than regular hot season. Because it’s hot AND humid. At lest that's something a Southern girl should be used to.

And to conclude, I give you a photo of the lush Malian countryside during dry season:

* For Arielle.

"It Ain't Easy"

It’s video time again! And while this particular episode may not be quite as fun as last time’s, I hope it will give you a better glimpse of what is probably the second most oft-shown West African women’s activity (after carrying water on their heads, of course).



mmm... nyo

This is Aissata, and she is susu-ing. “Ka susu” is the Bambara word for the action of pounding things (mostly millet aka nyo) with the traditional wooden mortar and pestle. And you thought there were only those little stone ones for making guacamole… Actually, susu-ing, depending on the season and family income level, can take up a large portion of a typical Malian woman’s day – sometimes more than 4 hours. You can susu a lot of different things for a lot of different reasons – corn cobs (to remove the kernels), corn kernels (to make flour), millet stalks (to remove the grains), millet grains (to make flour), sorghum, garlic, onions, tomatoes, leaves (to make powders and spices), and even manure (to make fertilizer). The possibilities are endless, really. The mortar (“kolon”, also the word for well) and pestle (“kolon kala”) come in sizes ranging from tiny tourist trinket to a bit larger than the one lying on its side on the ground to the left in the video. Farm families grow and eat A LOT of millet, mostly in a porridge form called “tô”, which is made by adding millet powder to boiling water. Therefore, susu-ing is a daily task for many Malian women. And let me tell you, it ain’t easy. About 30 seconds is enough for me to get tired. It’s not that I’m a wuss – that kolon kala is solid heavy wood. Even Malians susu in short spurts and/or take turns. If you can get a partner (as shown), you’re really in business.

The act of susu-ing is an art form. These women have been at it a while (you know… like, probably a thousand years), so one starts to get creative. There’s the one-handed susu, which leaves the other hand free to tap the edge of the kolon, leg, susu-ing arm, and/or other objects in rhythm with the pounding of the kolon kala. Susu-ing with a partner in the same kolon or in groups with many kolons can be fun for singing songs and creating a polyrhythmic drum circle-like atmosphere. Lots of women, when alone, click their tongues or make some other sort of sound in their throats to complement the pounding of the kolon kala. And then there’s everybody’s favorite: the hand clap. The hand clap is probably the most common susu fun factor, but it takes a while to master. You may have noticed that I was audibly impressed with Aissata’s hand clap. You know a really good susu clap when it is heard and not seen. As you can imagine, the double hand clap is a rarity, and I have never had the good fortune to witness the elusive triple clap myself. If I ever find someone who can do it, I’ll let you know. As with materials, the susu-ing method embellishments are infinite. Just think of it as the Malian version of whistle while you work. (Incidentally, women are not allowed to whistle in Mali. As a woman and avid whistler, this saddens me.)

P.S. The car pictured in the middle of the concession is not operable. In Mali, when your car doesn't work you just leave it in the middle of your yard. Just like Tennessee!