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!