"Chicago"

I just got back from the land of the midnight sun. I made the very long, very hot 13 hour bus ride to the northern city of Gao with two other girls from the San region. I can safely say it was my favorite excursion within Mali. Gao is so different from the rest of the country. More sand, less trees, more rock formations, more camels. And you get to wear a turban! In most of Mali you feel like you're in the Sahel, that band of semi-arid land that borders the Sahara. But in Gao, you truly get the impression you're on the edge of the desert. The highlight of the trip for me was the "Rose Dune", so named because it looks pink at sunset. I thought dunes like that only existed in Star Wars and Spaceballs (We ain't found $%*^!), but there it is, pictured above: a real, sure 'nuff mountain made of sand. We were able to spend about an hour and a half playing in said sand before impending darkness required us to scramble back to our boat and make it across the Niger before nightfall. On the way back home, I declared it to have been the coolest thing I've ever seen. And I've seen some cool things in my day.

The other highlight of the Gao trip was, of course, Election Night. 20 of us gathered at a bar/brothel owned by a Nigerian some Gao PCVs had made friends with. This was the only place we could find with 1) a television, 2) a television with CNN, and 3) a television with CNN in a place that serves beer. We spent the day napping and caffeinating to prepare for the inevitable all-nighter ahead of us. Some of us started to fade around 2 or 3 AM, but the announcements on Pennsylvania and Ohio naturally energized the PC crowd. By around 5 AM it was speech time, and we all summoned the energy to listen attentively to Senator McCain and sob like little girls for President-Elect Obama. I swanee, it was worse than Jesse Jackson and Oprah combined. Guys included. The rest of the day was spent receiving various displays of congratulations from elated Malians, ecstatic that "un noir" will be leader of the free world. No matter for whom you voted, I hope we can all agree that it was a day to be proud of our country and the democratic process. Now can we please cut it out with the "YES WE CAN"? It's driving me crazy...

We can cha yee yaaaange the world! Rearra yee yaaaaange the world!
It's dying to get better...

"Birthday"

It’s not my birthday, but tomorrow is. My “AQC”, we’re calling it. Almost Quarter Century. I’m approaching musokoroba (literally “woman old very much”) territory. At this point in time, the Breakfast Club stage has also bypassed the one year mark at site. In honor of this occasion, I took some quiet time to reflect upon my service, “Africa”, the nature of change, etc. I soon bored myself. Then I came up with this list:

After one year at site,

I still…

• Don’t eat mayonnaise sandwiches, a staple in the Malian PCV travel diet. I just can’t do it.

• Spend WAY too much money on telephone credit, the internet café, and the post office. I miss you guys!

• Wash my hands with soap before eating, unlike SOME people *cough* Amy aka Aminata Haidira *cough*.

• LOVE baby chicks. Baby goats. Baby donkeys. Baby anything, really.

• Don’t eat those brown, dried, all curled up bottom-feeder fish. I’d rather be protein deficient.

• Forget to call my Malian family when out of town (a bad habit, some will remember, got me into trouble in high school…) and bring back “city” gifts for them. Terribly culturally inappropriate.

• Flinch a little at rocks, hair, bones, skin, bugs, worms, and/or sand in my food. I mean I’ll still eat it but, blech. Come on, guys! I personally volunteer for rice-checking duty next meal.

• Have to laugh at the ridiculous stickers and t-shirts I see on cars and people. This morning’s example from transport: A photo of Osama bin Laden framed by the words “NEVER DIE” superimposed over an image of what I truly believe was a shot of Chuck Norris from that cinematic classic, Delta Force. I mean, I couldn’t make this stuff up.

• Kind of enjoy making African babies cry in sheer terror. Simply at the site of my face. From a distance. It doesn’t get old.

• HATE doing laundry. It’s torturous.

• Use toilet paper.

I no longer…

• Respond to children in my village who yell “tubabu” at me. You don’t know my name by now? Well, go ask somebody. You don’t get the Queen of England wave.

• Wave more than twice at any one child, no matter how many times or for how long he may scream my name. You MIGHT get three if I’m in a good mood. Which is rare.

• Eat in restaurants at every opportunity. $8 pizza or 10 cent plate of beans? I’d rather eat the beans and spend the difference at the cyber café.

• Take every baby that is handed to me. I’ll only hold your baby if I know you or if it is an especially cute baby, for a couple of reasons: 1) Malian babies will ALWAYS go to the bathroom on you. 2) Ever since fellow PCV Brooke aka Fakuru Kamisoko (kami sogo!) got stuck alone with a Malian newborn on the Kayes platform as his train pulled away, I don’t want to take any chances.

"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