Happy Halloween!

I finally have furniture! I had 2 bookshelves and a small table made from bamboo, and a Peace Corps car was finally able to bring them and the 2 chairs I’d bought down to Madoubougou. There isn’t anyplace to get these things close to my village, and trying to get them here any other way would’ve been a nightmare. The best part was that 3 PCVs from Sikasso City were able to ride along and visit me. They weren’t able to stay long, but it was a nice surprise. The car had come from Bamako originally, so it was also carrying my mail that’d been sent to my old address. As one of the PCVs said, it was like I’d won a sweepstakes or something. Only without the balloons and TV cameras- maybe next time. As with any time an unfamiliar vehicle rolls into town, all the neighbor kids gathered around to see what was going on- this time they were starring at all the newcomers instead of me.

I’ve kinda got my host family figured out now. It’s a big compound with a lot of people, and it’s not entirely appropriate to sit down and index out a family, but here’s what I’ve figured out so far. The part of the family I’m around the most (i.e. eat dinner with every night and talk to everyday) is fairly simple. Lamine is about 30 years old. He has 2 wives, but one is living with her mom in another village about 20km away and I haven’t met her yet. I’m not quite sure why she’s there, but I know that she’s coming back in about a month. Lamine’s other wife is Shita, and there are 4 of his kids age 1-8 that are always around. I know he has other children, but I think they are with his other wife right now. Lamine’s parents are past away, but he lives in the same compound with his dad’s brother, Isa. Isa is about 60 years old, and his wife, Mariam, is maybe 45-50. Another one of Lamine’s brother’s wife’s, a widow, lives in the compound, too. One of Isa’s sons also lives in the compound with his wife and children. Lamine’s brothers all live in either Bamako or the neighboring countries of Burkina-Faso or Cote d’Ivoire.

Ramadan, the Muslims month of fasting, ended on Sunday. During Ramadan, Muslims do not eat or drink anything (or smoke) from sunrise to sunset. As you might imagine, people are not exactly themselves during this month. Some are slightly irritable, but most people basically just seem tired out constantly. So besides the “grande fete” we got to have on Sunday, I was glad to see the end of Ramadan just so I can get to know the people of Madoubougou as they really are. Everyone is eating normal and drinking their tea, now, so they’re in much better spirits. The “big party” was really just everyone having big meals, hanging out, playing games (some of the men really get into this board game that reminds me of “Sorry”) and drinking lots of tea. Kind of like Easter or something, only the kids go trick-or-treating instead of getting baskets of candy or hunting for eggs. The thing about the trick-or-treating, though, is that it’s completely acceptable (and basically expected in Madoubougou) to give small change out rather than candy. Also, instead of dressing up the kids just say a blessing or 2, and it goes on for 2 days. Being the moron that I am, I forgot to get any coins for the occasion (change is notoriously hard to get in Mali) and had absolutely nothing to give out. I managed to be hanging out at other peoples’ houses enough both days that it wasn’t a huge deal, but the little bit of time I did spend at home I felt like one of those mean old men who keep their lights off on Halloween. Oh, well… it’s not the first time I’ve seemed like an idiot here, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

Further Adventures into Technology to Keep You All Informed About My Oh-So Interestsing LIfe!

Hello all and welcome to my blog! For those of you who were getting my mass email, this is going to basically take its place. Hopefully, it will work out better for us all. I haven't been all that busy out in my village lately, mostly just getting settled in and trying to improve my Bambara. So I thought this would be a good oppurtunity to tell you all what "Mali is like".

The most common response I got when I told people I was going to Mali: a blank stare. (The second most common was, “Bali?”) This didn’t really surprise me, since I myself had to go straight to an atlas when I opened my invitation envelope and saw that I would be spending the next 27 months in “Mali”. Before coming here I was able to find out quiet a bit about the country, as much is written about its rich history and wide variety of interesting cultures. It is the country of Timbuktu (yeah, a real city) and the general location of 3 great, ancient empires. It is a former French colony and still uses French as its official language. Malians are mostly farmers/herders (~80%) and Muslim (~75%). Now that I’m here, realize that there is so much more to it.
First of all, Mali is remarkably diverse. It is impossible to encapsulate “Mali” or “Malians”. There are a wide variety of ethnic groups, from the Tuareg, Fulani, and Dogon, to the Malinke, Bambara, and Senoufou. Each has its own language with dialects varying between regions and, sometimes, even villages. Additionally, there are immigrants from surrounding countries like Cote d’Ivoire, Guinea, and Burkina-Faso. Historically there was fighting between many of these groups, but for the most part they all live together in peace now. There is still a rift between the Tuaregs of the far north and the Bambara (the largest ethnic group, which dominates the government), but as of now there isn’t any organized fighting. That situation, even at its worst in the 1990s, is a long way removed from my region of Sikasso (in case you were starting to worry about me).
While most Malians are Muslims, there are also Christians and those that practice traditional religions (as far as I have seen and heard, they are all extremely tolerant/accepting of each other). The degree to which the Muslims are conservative and/or strict also varies pretty widely. Traditional (“animist”) beliefs may be mixed into Islam to varying degrees, and traditional rituals still persist in most areas for weddings, funerals, etc. Islam definitely has a dominating presence in the areas that I’ve been, though. Everyone dresses fairly conservative. Men wear shirts with sleeves and long pants, though these might be rolled up or cut off below the knee during manual labor or informal situations. Most women wear loose, long skirts, shirts with sleeves and a high neckline, and wraps that cover their hair. Muslims pray 5 times a day, which seems to always be rather conspicuous. They wash their feet, hands, and face before each time and will generally not skip a prayer for any reason. You can usually tell about what time it is by sound of the prayer call from a nearby mosque, and the sound of the misiriwele has actually become one of my favorite things about Mali.

More specifically, I can tell you about some of the places that I’ve actually been to. The capital, Bamako, is much like any other big city in the world. There are lots of people (exemplifying the country’s diversity) and lots of traffic. There are poor parts, extremely wealthy parts, and “touristy” parts. One can find most anything that might be harder to find elsewhere in the country- pork chops, a good Chinese restaurant, ice cream, dance clubs. Of course there are always a few things that remind you you’re in Mali. Sheep and goats freely roam the street. Public transportation consists mainly of pickups with covered beds, in which there’s ALWAYS room for one more, or a Peugeot taxi (there’s a reason you’ve probably never heard of the Peugeot car company). Open sewers run along most of the sidewalks, sometimes covered by wooden planks basically making it the sidewalk (not quiet as gross as it sounds, since most “toilets” are holes in the ground where waste naturally decomposes without needing to go anywhere, but still…). Besides those affiliated with the Peace Corps or other NGOs in country, its extremely rare to find anyone who speaks English at all, let alone very well (i.e. it’s relatively tough to communicate with anyone here without at least some basic French).
Sikasso is a much more scaled down version of Bamako. It’s about the size of Fargo, and has that same feeling of being a relatively big city in the middle of farm country. There are a few nice hotels, some decent places to eat, and at least one dance club that I know of. Traffic is hectic, though nothing like Bamako. Most anything not available out in village is available here. There is a good-sized market (think in the style of a “farmer’s market”) everyday that doubles in size every Sunday. One can find any fruit or vegetable in season, other foods, clothing, house-wear, tools, etc. Sikasso is also the base of many national and international development agencies for the region and a travel hub for those headed to Burkina-Faso or Cote d’Ivoire.

The big cities, however, are just the beginning of what Mali is really like. The thing I know the most about Mali (if I know anything at all) is village life, specifically in the southern part of the country. In my village, everyone is a farmer. The teachers are farmers. The bakers are farmers. The “shopkeepers” (if you want to call them that) and market sellers are farmers. They farm millet, sorghum, and corn mostly for their own consumption, plus a variety of crops such as peanuts, cassava, and yams. In other parts of the country, rice or cotton is produced in large quantities for sale, but they are farmed on a much smaller scale in my area. Around my village there are also lots of mangos, papayas, oranges, lemons, cashews, and trees whose leaves are used for sauces (e.g. Baobab). Smaller gardens contain everything from onions to hot peppers to an African type of eggplant. There are chickens, guinea fowl, and ducks that roam the village, every so often actually being in the compound of the family that technically owns them, and there are a small number of goats, sheep, and cattle kept in and around the village.
Most noticeably, the crops are right there. Walking from my house to my host family’s house across town takes me right through a small millet field either of the 2 ways I can go. There’s corn growing in the space between my compound and the one behind me, about 10m wide. The 30m between my house and the mosque in front of it is just weeds and grass right now, but a few cattle graze there for a while most every day. The “edge” of town is surrounded by crops, with the exception of some brush/forest in a few spots. Taking any of the paths (generally just wide enough for 2 motorcycles to pass on) from my village to one of the surrounding villages, there is a varying mixture of crops, grass/shrub land, and trees.
The houses in most villages are all loosely set up as family compounds. Generally, there is a circle of small, 1-3 room mud huts possibly connected by a wall that encloses the compound. The huts all face the inside of the circle, where there might be a few trees, a small garden, an area for a couple of live-stock, and/or multiple bare areas used for various activities. The huts might have an overhang coming off of the front to provide an area for shade, or there might be a roof elsewhere in the compound for the same purpose. Depending on the family, a wide variety of relatives could be living in the same compound. The elderly never live alone, and it is not uncommon for siblings to share a compound. A man may legally have up to 4 wives (in accordance with Muslim tradition), though 1-2 seems to be the norm in my village. For example, my homologue’s compound includes him, his wife and 6 children, his brother and his brother’s 2 wives with a bunch of kids including 1 that is 22 and married. I haven’t even been able to figure out exactly who is who in my host family yet with so many people always around. The compounds themselves have no apparent order. They’re just sort of clumped together in groups with paths snaking throughout the village. Rarely there will be a lone hut, possibly with a wall surrounding a front-yard sort of thing (e.g. my house).

Finally, this is as good a time as any to explain the person that I keep referring to as my “counterpart” or, as we like to say in PC Mali, my “homologue”. Every PCV is assigned a host-country counterpart. This person is supposed to be the PCV’s closet co-worker and best resource on work related manners. He/she helps to explain the PCV’s role to others, assists the PCV in organizing meetings, and acts as a guide for how business is conducted in the host country. My homologue is the village’s school director and 1st and 2nd grade teacher. He also farms, gardens, and has fruit trees. Most importantly, he is a highly respected member of the community who will add credibility to anything I want to accomplish. His name is Fusseini (I don’t even know if that’s spelled right, but sound it out like “foo”-“see”-“ny”), and he speaks fluent Bambara and French plus a tiny bit of English. Just wanted to throw that out there ‘cause I’ll probably end up talking about him a lot. Anyways, that's all for now... next time I'll attempt posting some pics. Keep your fingers crossed, and have a fun Halloween!