Malian Glossary

Acronyms:

• PCT - Peace Corps Trainee
• PCV - Peace Corps Volunteer
• LCF - Language Cultural Facilitator; responsible for teaching us the language and helping to integrade during training (mine is Oscar Coulibaly)
• CD - Country Director (Kateri Clement)
• PCMO - Peace Corps Medical Officer (Aissata and Andrea)
• NGO - Non-government organization, non-profit we work with
• CSCOM - A health center, I don't know what the letters actually stand for
• COS - Completion of Service; the date I officially finish as a volunteer
• ET - Early termination; leaving early for any reason
• WAIT - West African Internation Time; meaning late
• TIA - This is Africa; used by volunteers in shock
• WAWA - West Africa Wins Again

Random Terms:

• Homologue - Malian work counterpart; the person I’ll be working with for two years
• Tubob - Any white person
• Dja Tigi - Host family; in my case the people I eat, but do not live, with
• Dugu Tigi- Chief of the village
• Stage house - The common house for PCVs in the San area
• Bruce - A location in the sticks, away from any big town
• Nyegen - Malian bathroom; a walled hole in the ground, usually with no roof
• Bush Taxi - Green "buses" (for lack of a better term) that cram more people, chickens, goats and luggage than you'd ever think possible

Site Visit

My site visit was fantastic. I’m absolutely thrilled with Yangasso, and can’t wait to get back there. There’s so much to say, so this will have to be a quick overview. I'm exhausted.

I took a bus with three other PCTs and our Malian coworkers. It took about 7 hours to get from Bamako to San, which is the closest large town we will use for banking and shopping. In San we were greeted by the current PCVs of the area who cooked us a fantastic curry dinner and brownies. We stayed the night in the stage house. It’s basically a small western style house for volunteers to use whenever they need to come into town. It has electricity, a refrigerator, oven, running/drinkable water, ceiling fans and tile floors. I can’t describe the joy we felt upon arrival.

The next morning we all set out to our respective sites. My house in Yangasso is cement with a tin roof and no electricity. It’s a long building with two apartments of three rooms each. My rooms are painted bright blue with a yellowish border. The concession is huge, and a pain to cross at night in the rain to get to my nyegen. There is a well in the center of the concession for bathing water. Drinking water comes from a public pump. They’re also building a hangar for me (a thatch roof canopy thing for shade), and there’s plenty of room to start a garden. My street turns into a river after a storm.

I share the concession with a Malian family. I’ve only met the father, but he’s as nice as can be. The second morning there was a huge rain storm, so my host family couldn’t get to my house to deliver food. Worried that I hadn’t eaten, my neighbor went out in the storm to get me bread, eggs and coffee, and refused to let me pay him back. He was completely disappointed that I left before his wife and 5 children returned from Bamako, and I can’t wait to meet them next month.

I spent my three days at site meeting absolutely everyone of any importance in town, eating with my supervisor’s family, attempting to learn a little more French and Bambara, and playing with the local kids. Actually it wasn’t so much playing as me reading or writing while they watched. One of my favorite moments was meeting my supervisor’s extended family, including a new nephew who was just a few days old. As soon as I walked into the room the baby was dropped in my arms while the women chattered away in Bambara.

I was given the new last name of Coulibaly, which means I’m joking cousins with pretty much everyone. It was great ice breaker with everyone in the community.

After three days at site we went back to the stage house in San where we made delicious tacos and cheesecake. We stayed up all night listening to music, dancing and talking then slept on the bus ride back today. It’s past 11pm now and I can’t remember the last time bed sounded so good. I’ve finally added some new pictures to Flickr (they took forever to load, so there aren’t many); be sure to check them out.

Harry Potter, a phone and Bamako

Harry Potter finally arrived! I'm very excited it came before homestay, because apparantly I'm gong to have a lot of down time.

In other news, I also finally have a cell phone. It's a Peace Corps issued one, so I should have it for the rest of my service. Basically how it works is I buy phone cards to add minutes to my phone. It's really expensive, so it works far better (for me) to have you call. I'll add the phone number to my contact information.

We went into Bamako for the first time this week. It was not nearly as exciting as I'd hoped, but still good. We went to a tubob store (grocery store geared toward white people) where I bought paprika Pringles. Then we went to a restaurant for pizza and ice cream. It was fantastic. Unfortunately that's all we did because we only had a few hours and the restaurant was really slow.

Tomorrow I head out to my site...I'll let you know how it goes.

On My Father's Request

My dad emailed me some questions and suggestions about what I should write about on my blog. I actually found this rather amusing, but apparantly my posts are simply not good enough on their own. Anyways, he asked about the daily lives of the average Malian, as well as transportation questions. So Dad, here and the answers...

Gender roles are very defined in Mali. They do practice polygamy, so Muslim men can have as many as four wives. The number of wives generally correlates to wealth. Women do work in the fields in rural communities, otherwise they stay at home. They get up by 6 each morning to begin the cooking and cleaning for the day. All cooking is done outside unless it's raining. Then it's done in the doorway. They use a small metal stove with charcoal and beat up metal pots. Eating is done out of a communal tin bowl with our hands (no utensils). Besides cooking, the women sweek with a small hand sweep things several times a day (Mali is a very dusty country), pull water for themselves, me and the men from the well, do laundry and shop at the local market.

The men are very lazy. Actually they're not, but it sometimes appears that way. My host father, Moussa, is the headmaster of the local school, so their situation is a little different than most. I don't think he'd officially working at the moment. Malian schools have summer break just like we do. He and my host brothers sleep in a little more, but are usually up by 7 or 8. Then the take off and go who knows where. They do not EVER help cook or clean. They come home for every meal, and tend to pass the evenings playing checkers or cards and watching tv. The men are the ones doing all the official work.

Each wife has her own bedroom, and the husband goes back and forth. The sons all sleep on mats in the front room.

Now to transportation. So far I've mainly used PC transport...that being Land Rovers with crazy drivers. In my village I ride my bike or walk everywhere. Locals do the same. If they're going out of town, the use bush taxis. These are bright green mini "buses" that cram as many people, animals and luggage in as they can. For longer trips there are nicer buses of similar quality to a city bus in the States.

Hope this was a helpful insight into Malian life. More updates on what's going on when I have some time.

The Daily Grind

Finally healthy! I can’t begin to explain the difference being healthy makes every day. Everything seems so much more manageable. Although, I'm still in desparate need of a day off. I left a month ago, and we literally do not get any time off. Sleeping as late as 7 is fantastic.

I started eating with my family again yesterday, for the first time since coming back from Tubaniso. I was super excited; even more so when I saw there were some new foods. For the past three weeks at homestay, 9 out of 10 meals has been riz avec sauce d’arachide (rice with peanut sauce). Last night was had some spicy sauce that was really good. No idea what it was; when it’s dark out you can’t see the food. Today we had my favorite fried rice that actually tastes like Spanish rice, with a side of ….pasta. That’s right, rice with a side of mushy, nasty pasta. I’m not so excited with new foods anymore.

We went to our first Malian wedding the other day, which was quite an experience. It starts with cramming about 50 people in a tiny little room in the mayor’s office. The bride, groom and their representatives sit in the front, with us Tubobs behind them. Everyone crowded around, pressing in on us. Basically it like a civil service, and then everyone heads back to the groom’s house for a big party. Lots of singing, dancing, and bright clothing. It was strange to be treated like honored guests at a wedding for people we’d never met. Kind of uncomfortable, but I guess we’d better get used to it.

Yangasso

I just got some info about Yangasso that I thought I'd share. It's a town of about 5,000 people with surrounding villages that make a population of about 70,000. I'm the first volunteer at the site, and I'll be working as a community development agent. Still no idea what that really means. I'll have no electricity or running water at my house, but access to both in other parts of the city. My counterpart agency will be a local NGO, but I'll also work with the mayor's office. My housing situation will be a two or three room apartment in a concession with a Malian family. I will have cell phone coverage! I will be visiting my site for the first time on the 22nd.

Site Assignment!

Well, they did not announce what I'll be doing, but at least I finally know where I'm going. In a month and a half I'll be moving Yangasso, a town in the Segou region. I know absolutely nothing about it, so shoot me any information you find. I will be very close to a number of other volunteers, which is great. My town is just north of Sikasso region (where all the good fruit is) and west of Burkina Faso. Apparantly there's a great river festival in Segou every year. I'm so excited to finally know where I'm going.

In other news, I have to go the the Bamako med office this afternoon to get tests or whatever done. From what I hear, the office has good food, air conditioning, a dvd player and comfortable beds. Is it bad that I'm looking forward to it?

Illness

I feel honored to be one of the select few who is really sick. I missed classes this morning to hang out in the medical office; downing Gaterade and trying to sleep. I have a bacterial infection, cold and was dehydrated. Good fun. They have to send my tests to the US embassy to get more detailed results, but I got some good drugs a little while ago. I'm determined to be better tomorrow so I don't have to go to the med office in Bamako. We have site announcements at 9:30 tomorrow morning, and I WILL be there.

Out of the 83 original volunteers, only 81 made it to Mali. Since then we have lost 4. One was mentally unstable (literally), two went home by choice, one was forced to leave this morning because of public drunkeness. I was totally bummed that she left because she would have made a great volunteer. A bunch of PCTs went to a bar, and she got sick. I think they were trying to set an example, which is understandable. It still sucks.

Nothing else has happened. The med office here has comfy beds, fans, soft pillows and real bathrooms. At least something good has come out of this.

The Continent is Trying to Kill Me

Word in Tubaniso is that we find out our permanant sites before we head back to our training villages on Thursday. I hope that's true. If it is, Thursday will actually be a pretty exciting day. I believe we're having lunch with the US ambassador before heading out. Until then, I just wanted to add some random events and facts from Droit to make my life sound a little more interesting.

My LCF (language-culture facilitator) is Oscar Coulibaly. He's a 37 year old Malian from Segou (a Malian region). The four of us PCTs living in Droit really like him, and his matter-of-fact way of answering anything about himself. After reading his little biography in one of our volunteer books, we learned that he is married, does yoga and plays musical instruments. The next day I asked what he played, and he responded simply with "several instruments." That was it, no elaboration. Another time we asked if he was lonely, since his wife is in Bamako. He just said "yes" and went on with the rest of the day. He's just funny in that you have to push to find anything out about him...but at the same time he's completely adorable and sweet. It helps that he's super short and looks like he's about 15.

For those of you looking for Droit on a map, don't bother. The closest large town Moribabugu, though Droit is only about 30 kms outside of Bamako; to the northeast, I think.

Ok, joking cousins....This is the greatest thing thus far about Mali. There are somewhere around 80 family names in Mali, with a dozen or so different ethnic groups. They pride themselves on their diversity. To alleviate any ethnic tensions or family rivalries, they have joking cousins. Basically what this means is that there is at least one designated family for each other family to joke with. For example, the Coulibalys joke with the Fulfunes. Actually, the Coulibalys kind of joke with everyone. Anyways, whenever two people meet, if they are joking cousins they automatically go at it with each other. The most common joke involves one person telling another he eats beans, or some variation. It sounds odd, but it's actually hilarious. They even use joking cousins to settle disputes. If two people are fighting and find out they're joking cousins, all fighting is generally alleviated with jokes. Chelsea (a fellow Droit PCT) and I have decided America could benefit from this, and our American names are now going to be joking cousins. Bowens, if you meet any Brinks, tell them they eat beans.

In other news, the continent is currently trying to kill me and every other new PCT here. We all have variations of bacterial infections, reactions to medications and foods, amoebas, and even cold and flu bugs. I've been sick for a couple of days and feel pretty miserable. Eating is a total chore and I frequent the nyegen way too often. Oh well, what can you do. Probably 75% of us are sick. At least we're going through it together. I never thought I'd be so open with people I've known less than a month about such private bodily funtions. Don't worry, mom, I will be fine. The med office here is great. I'm glad I'm sick while in Tubaniso instead of Droit.

On that cheerful note I'm heading out. I'm sure I'll update again if and when I find out my site, or if anything else interesting happens. Or if I'm bored. Very likely. There is an internet cafe in Moribabugu, so I'm taking my laptop to site, and I may be able to update once or twice while I'm there. It's really expensive, though, so no promises.

My Name is Not Tubob

So much to write…I hardly know where to start.

First of all, I want to thank everyone who sent me letters. I got back to Tubaniso this afternoon to 5 awaiting letters. I was beyond excited. No Harry Potter yet. One girl got the book in the mail today, but it had been sent DHL. Most of the letters I got were #2s, which I’m told is normal. I promise you’ll all be getting responses soon. Or maybe not soon, but they will be sent.

I’m now living most of the time in NGabacoro Droit, or Droit for short. It’s a town of about 4000 people, but it feels much smaller. Probably 75% of the population is under the age of 15. It’s very rural, and very poor (understandable as Mali is the 3rd poorest country in the world).

My host family is headed by Moussa Toancara who is the head of the local school. He has two wives, one of whom is pregnant, and four sons. Upon arriving in Droit, I was “adopted” into the family and given the Malian name of Worokia Toancara. Every morning as I walk to class I’m hounded my dozens of kids yelling “Worokia, Worokia…bon jour!” This is quite an improvement over the screams of “Tubob,” the Bambara expression for a white person. It’s pretty amusing because as soon as I respond they tend to run away.

The house I live in is a very simple cement building with a wide front hall, three small rooms and a leaky tin roof. It sounds like the world is coming to an end whenever it rains. The courtyard, where all free time is spent, is dirt/mud with a small garden, piles of waste and random animals. The “bathroom” is uncovered, and I have to say it’s incredibly enjoyable to take a bucket bath outside in the evening before bed.

The things you think are going to be hard are all manageable. You get used to the heat because you have to. You eat the food because you have no choice, though it becomes a whole lot less important in your life. The feeling of isolation is definitely hard (hence in incredible excitement at letters), and lack of communication is immensely challenging. All the same, it’s doable.

The idea of two years here is really hard to comprehend at this point. If I had to say now if I thought I could make it, my answer would be probably not. Life is very lonely, even when you can get no privacy. But I’m definitely not ready to give up. I know that I’ll feel differently once I can communicate.

Sorry this is a sort of boring overview of my life here. I actually handwrote some random things I wanted to share while I was gone, so I’m going to try to type some up in the next few days. Thanks again for the letters…and keep them coming!