Matt in West Africa (Mali)

Less Than Exciting

2011-02-28T11:07:00.000-08:00

I'm in Bamako for a few days to get some paperwork done and to do a one day training module on hand-drilling boreholes for water wells. So far I've used my time effectively by going to the bar, paying the PC medical officer a visit to poop in a cup, having a conversation with a staff person in which I failed to find any logic, and watching two documentaries that recently came out. "Gasland" and "Restrepo". The first is about the terrible detrimental effects gas exploration is having on the environment in the US. The second is about a platoon of US soldiers that were deployed in the Korengal Valley in Afghanistan, said to be one of the most deadly places on earth.

As you can imagine, neither of these documentaries do much to create a mood of happiness and joy. Rather, they are much the opposite, and present a message of how ridiculous and terrible humanity can be sometimes. It got me to thinking about my present situation and the world in general.

Let's start with sugar. It's something most people in the past few hundred years have come to enjoy, and the story is no different in Mali. In fact, sugar is actually produced in Mali. You can take a drive a little over an hour north of my village and find yourself in massive sugar cane fields, which is a little weird when you first see it after seeing much of the rest of the region. Anyways, the point I'm trying to make is that up until fairly recently, even though sugar was literally produced just up the road from me, all the sugar sold in my village (a lot btw) actually came from other African countries or continents (Brazil mostly). This was because the imported sugar was actually selling at a lower price, and this would still probably be the case if merchants and other interests in Mali hadn't finally sat down and discussed that it might make sense for the country to consume something it was producing itself rather than have it shipped over from South America. Something about that just doesn't seem right. I know it all comes down to economics, etc., but still... And the thing is stuff like this is happening all over the world with lots of different things (mostly commodities).

Moving on... how about foreign aid. I have to be honest, but as an aid worker myself, I'm really starting to loose faith in the system. We in the West are so caught up with having measurable results and concrete examples of work done that I think we've lost focus. We now go for what looks good, not what is actually doing any good. What do I mean? Every project funding proposal or report I've had to fill out here always asks in meticulous detail how many kids, women, men, community leaders, goats, etc. that my work is engaging. Yes, it's good to have statistics and keep track of things, but I think all aid organizations really care about saying these days is things like, "We've distributed 100,000 mosquito nets in the past 5 years" or "We've educated over 50,000 women on the importance of early childhood nutrition". Yeah, they want to help people, but it's also about who has the biggest bragging rights. I'd like to know how many of those mosquito nets are actually being used and how many mothers actually make any serious attempt to provide their children with more nutritious meals. It seems that once the aid is distributed, the organization responsible feels their work is done, and doesn't pay much attention to the aid's actual effectiveness or retention.

A perfect example... A major NGO in my area recently built a new road to connect several villages in order to improve transportation of goods and to link up several health clinics that they've built in recent years. At several points along the road there are culverts or paved depressions for water to cross over or under the road during rainy season to prevent the road from washing away. They also planted thousands of trees along the road so that eventually they will provide shade and a wind break. Since then several people have thought it would be a good idea to intentionally drive their ox carts over all the trees, repeatedly, which are now obviously destroyed. And, no one uses the culverts or paved depressions. They literally drive off the road and go around them. I find that fabulous. And as a side note icing on the cake... all the health clinics are supplied with a product called Plumpy Nut, which is intended to be distributed for free as a dietary supplement for severely malnourished children, but at least in my village the doctors don't distribute it and eat it themselves... but I'm willing to guess the clinic's supply inventory simply shows that the product is being consumed, which of course to the funding agency means that they've just helped X number of malnourished children.

I'll even take a turn to be critical of myself. I was recently talking with one of my sisters who inquired what exactly I was up to these days in village. I explained that I am building several wells and two dozen latrines, both of which are lined with concrete bricks to keep them from collapsing. My sister then asked if this is work that will be continued once I am gone. I unfortunately had to admit that I don't think so. It's not because the villagers I am working with don't see the merit of lining a latrine or well with concrete so it doesn't collapse on them... they just don't see any value in prioritizing how they spend, or more importantly save what little money they are able to earn. The result is that most likely no one in village will utilize the construction techniques I am introducing simply because they will never save up enough money to do it themselves. I am essentially teaching people how to fish who never have any intention of buying a fishing pole. But at least the kinds of structures I am building will have a significant impact on the community for the next decade or so, which is a bit of a consolation.

I'm more mad at myself...

2011-02-26T11:11:00.000-08:00

The epic saga of work in village continues. Last year at this time I built a soak pit (small drain field) which epically failed, and so, not to be outdone by hardpan Malian clay, I soldiered on and built a much bigger, more expensive, "stick that in you pipe and smoke it" soak pit that is lined with bricks and is essentially way over done. I figured my work there was complete, but fate had another idea and decided to clog the pipe leading from the water source (a pump) to the pit with small bits of straw that are presently blowing all over village. My solution to this problem was to cover the inlet of the pipe with a wire screen... but it just got clogged with animal hair. Things at this point were starting to get a bit ridiculous.

So... my latest solution to the infiltration dilemma was to construct a settling chamber that would be all at once straw proof, animal hair proof, and child proof. In order to make such a chamber, I enlisted the help of the guy who is supposed to be in charge of the pump. On Friday I asked him what day we could do the improvements. He said, "Monday morning at 8 am". I said, "OK". Sunday night I double checked with him and confirmed Monday morning at 8 am. His reply was in the affirmative. Monday morning at 7:55 am I arrive at his house so we can get work started only to be informed that he had gone to Segou for the day. I don't know why I didn't just plan for this to happen because it seems to occur every time I try to schedule anything. I'm not so much mad at the guy as disappointed in myself for not having figured out this little Malian cultural quirk by now.

S is for SIDA

2011-01-29T04:51:00.000-08:00

This past week a bunch of Volunteers and I from the Segou region jumped in a mini-bus and took a 5 hour ride to a fellow Volunteer's site in Dogofry, north of Segou. She had organized an AIDS awareness bike tour and asked other Volunteers to come up and help spread the good news about a terrible disease.

An AIDS awareness bike tour works exactly how you would imagine it to. A bunch of people jump on bikes and ride around to different villages and talk to people about sex, condoms, and acquired immune deficiency syndrome... or SIDA as it's known in French.

Ok. It's actually a bit more elaborate than than. Here's how ours worked. The bike tour lasted four days. Each day our group of nine Volunteers visited three different villages. We biked to each location, with most villages typically being three or four kilometers apart from each other. To help facilitate communication a DJ (and his sound equipment) came along. We also had a health extension agent (doctor-ish person) who explained what AIDS was, an actual doctor who tested people for HIV, and a Volunteer counterpart. (All people involved were Malian except the Volunteers.)

For each village our small parade of 10 bikes, 2 motorcycles, and a hand tractor and cart laden with sound equipment and mobile medical unit (a Coleman tent) would roll in and draw as much attention as possible. After setting up the sound equipment and med tent the DJ would blast music and some of the Volunteers would get up and start dancing, which had the effect of getting even more people's attention. After a decent crowd was formed the presentation would begin. We all introduced ourselves and then the extension agent would ramble on and on and on about what AIDS is and how people get it. Then there would be a small break with music where Volunteers would dance again to entertain the crowd. Then the counterpart would do a small skit demonstrating how AIDS "sickness" affects a person's immune system. Then more dancing and a song in the local language which had a chorus that simply repeated the words "SIDA sickness is bad" over and over and over. Then a question and answer time. Then we would pack up and leave. The whole time people who wanted to be tested for HIV could do so at the med tent.

I think over 200 people ended up getting tested for HIV and only one person came up positive. Not exactly numbers indicative of the "AIDS epidemic" that is supposedly ravaging Africa, but then you have to take into consideration that Mali does not have a terribly high incidence of AIDS and the area where we did the testing is fairly rural and not near a major transportation route (although one is being built in the area right now). So, its not surprising that we didn't find a lot of cases, which is something to be thankful for, and hopefully with a better understanding of the disease people in the area will be able to prevent it from becoming a major health problem.

***

I thought I would also share some observations we made while on the tour that most people found rather funny.

As most people know, the first rule about sound equipment is that you never put a microphone in front of a giant speaker. And the second rule is much the same... you never put a microphone in front of a giant speaker. So imagine our amusement (and frustration) when every time our "professional" DJ set up his sound equipment he insisted on placing his massive speakers about 15 meters apart, facing each other, with his mixing station and microphone directly in between. The result was feedback so terrible it would have made any amateur sound person in the US seem like a triple Ph.D in electrical and acoustical engineering. And of course any suggestion from we, the foreigners, went unheeded because why would we know more than the "professionals" who do this kind of thing for a living?

As most people who have been to a developing country know, most unwanted clothing from developed countries usually go to places like Mali to end their days. And for whatever reason, a lot of old clothing from the US in particular makes it to Mali. At one of the villages on the tour there was a woman wearing a black t-shirt that had the words "F*** & Forget" in giant pink lettering on the front. We all thought that rather ironic given the topic of the presentation. Equally as funny was that the woman and everyone around her had no idea what the t-shirt said since no one understands English, but would probably have been just as offended by the shirt's message as when the extension agent showed a condom to one of the villages we visited..

A Serious Town Meeting

2010-11-28T09:36:00.000-08:00

I had my third wat/san committee meeting today. It was definitely the most substantial, but at the same time I also found it to be full of oddities. On paper an American would think the first and second meeting to be highly productive and meaningful (and they were, somewhat). But in a Malian village context, meeting number three has been the real "fish head in the bowl of peanut sauce" so to speak. Here's what I mean:

Meeting 1: About 50 people show up including the village chief, the council of elders, the imam, several men and women from each section of the village, and even a few folks from another community down the road. We talked about what the new committee would do and discussed the need for a list of names of people from every "quartier" to serve officially on the committee. Pretty nice right? Big turnout. Made some progress for a first meeting... on paper.

Meeting 2: About 1/4 of the people named to serve on the committee show up. Not a big deal as I understand it is farming time and people have work to do. A bunch of others show up though. We discuss changing out meeting venue to a different location to help facilitate future training sessions. We also go over how to treat drinking water with bleach and get a little distracted about pump problems, which was a topic scheduled for the following week.

Meeting 3: By far the lowest turnout of all the meetings. Maybe 15 people total. We were at out new venue, an adult training center build by the regional agriculture extension agency, which is hardly ever used. It's a one room school house complete with a chalk board and desks! And no one bothered to tell me about this virtually unused resource until about two weeks ago!

When I arrived to set up for the meeting I find that a team of laborers was using the building as their sleeping quarters while they were building a kindergarten & playground next door.

***
Aside: I'm a bit flabbergasted. I live in a village in the po-dunk middle of nowhere. The main form of transportation is ox cart. Several dozen kids a year die from easily preventable diseases such as diarrhea. Milk is a luxury. There is no running water or electricity. Despite the presence of a school most residents can't read... yet some NGO has decided that what the village really needs is a playground. Seriously?
***

We gently moved the workers things to the side and clean the place up for the meeting. We wait for about 30 minutes for everyone to show up. Then, suddenly my counterpart gets up and actually starts leading the meeting. Usually when it comes to this sort of thing he wants me, the guy who no one can understand, to lead. But no, he takes charge and we actually got things accomplished, albeit nothing I had scheduled for the day. The meeting went something like this:

"Alright. It's our third meeting. We're having trouble getting people to show up, we haven't picked officers or assigned committee jobs to anyone yet and we're not going to get anywhere if we keep having meetings and just wait for the day when everyone finally decides to show up."

"So. Who's gonna be president? How about you Bakoray? Everyone okay with Bakoray being president?" (Quiet mumbling) (Sure.) "Okay. Bakoray is president. Now who's gonna be vice president. They'll be in charge if Bakoray can't be here... and it has to be a woman. Anyone opposed to Mbai being VP?" (Quiet mumbling) (Sure) "Okay. Mbai is VP."

And so it went.
Secretary - person who writes things down
Treasurers - people who count the money
Town Criers - the person who makes talk
Auditors/Fee Collectors - people who test the treasurers
Pump Monitors - people who guard the pumps

When it came time to pick the pump monitors we first put forth names and then someone suggested that these people should be folks that actually use the pumps regularly. So then we went back and edited our list.Then we talked about what the monitors would do to protect the pumps. Things to look out for included:
-Kids trying to see how hard they can slam the pump lever
-People washing clothes or dishes at the pump (Don't wash your dirty laundry in public they cried)
- People bathing at the pumps (Again, keep your dirt at home people!)

(And yes, I see all of these often)

At this point the meeting had gone for an hour and a half and it was about lunch time. We dismissed for the week with the homework assignment of getting those who were absent to show up next time. I say meeting number 3 was the best because we actually got something meaningful accomplished. It was led by a local in a local context, and done in a way that everyone understood what their job was.

Negative Nancy

2010-11-28T09:33:00.000-08:00

(written 11-11-10)
Today marks a 10th consecutive day at site. Ever since getting back from the US I've been in a rather chipper mood and have found myself in an uncharacteristically optimistic attitude regarding my current situation. However, I think this run of positiveness is finally beginning to fizzle... something, to be honest, that I'm not too broken up about given my identity as a pessimist. One of the many things I've discovered in PC is that after 10 days at site I "hit the wall" so to speak. I'm ready to go back to the warm embrace of Segou... if for no reason other than it's possible to get a salad almost any time of the year.
So. In any case. I'm at day 10. I'm losing my optimism. This is how my day has gone thus far (it's about 2 pm)...

Last night we had a noticeable dip in temperature to officially kick off cold season. It was down in the upper 70's and I was told a few dozen people in village just about froze to death in their houses despite sweatshirts, parkas (yes, parkas), and blankets. Meanwhile I spent the night comfortably outside with nothing but a t-shirt and pajama pants and a table cloth. (What? You were expecting a cashmere wool comforter? I'm in PC.) I slept wonderfully... until 4:30 am when the call to prayer of air-raid siren loudness went off as it does every morning...
I went back to sleep until 6:30 am, when the cooking and baby crying noises coming from next door were too much to ignore. I breakfasted on cornflakes with warm powdered milk and a cup of "Liption"... which you should never confuse here with "tea". Pas la même chose I tell you!

Anyway, at 7 a woman politely invited herself into my front yard to ask for some bleach. At least she asked instead of telling me to give her some, but as I was feeling miserly this morning I told her to go buy her own bleach. After reminding me how poor she was I went back inside and resumed listening to the BBC.

After the BBC I got dressed for the day, brushed my teeth ("Lipton" will stain your chompers kids), cut myself while shaving, and then left the house. On the short trip from my house to the butiki (50 meters) I discovered termites had decided to take up residence in the wall of my latrine. I also saw a little girl peeing in the middle of the street and I almost got run over by one of the many young men around here who choose to ride their motorcycles without actually paying attention to where they are going.

At the butiki (50 meters later) I got the morning greetings and hand shakes out of the way and helped myself to a bowl of peanuts. As I was munching away I noticed a little boy to my left about 4 or 5 years old trying to play "paper shredder" with an old cigarette package and a discarded razor blade. Nothing to worry about there... Then one of the sheep from next door wandered over and helped itself to the bowl of peanuts before being shooed off. Oh, those sheep. A bit later I noticed an empty plastic tube that said "effervescent codine". I asked the shop keeper what the stuff was (even though I knew) and he said it was medicine for malaria. I guess you could use codine to relieve the fever or splitting headaches that can come from malaria... but it certainly won't cure you... But hey, at least you don't need a prescription for it in Mali even though it said right on the packaging in big, bold letters "by prescription only".

Later on I decided to take in some dusty air from a different part of town, so I went for a walk to my buddy Sala's butiki. There I ran into my counterpart as he was toying with a fluorescent light fixture powered off a car battery. I hadn't seen one in village before, so I asked what the fixture was called. The response I got was "ampule" as he pointed to the bulb. "Yes", I said, "But what is that?", pointing to the actual fixture. "Ampule", he said. "But there are two things and they aren't the same", I said. "Well, it's all 'ampule'", he said. Now I'm trying to figure out how you would explain changing an "ampule" in an "ampule"...

After my counterpart left another guy showed up that I've seen before, but I have no idea what his name is. He asked me how my American friend is and when he is coming to village. I had no idea what he was talking about as I've never mentioned a friend coming to visit. To solve this riddle I tried to get some more specific information. "Who?" "What's his name?" Unidentified villager's response: "You know. Your American friend." Oh. Well that clears that up. For a second there I wasn't sure if he was talking about the only other person in America that I happen to know, or another Volunteer. After several long seconds with a dumbfounded look on my face the conversation took a different direction.

...Which is when a woman showed up at the butiki and exclaimed, "Ah! The Tubab speaks Bambara!" and then right in front of me she turns to Sala the butiki owner and asks, "What's his name?". Ok. Seriously? I've been in Koila for 14 months now. I'm the only white guy. How haven't you learned my name yet? And how exactly do you think I've gotten by thus far in a community that only speaks Bambara? Come on woman! Use that gray mass between your ears that Allah gave you! The worst part is... I get this from someone probably every other day! Still!

After that I resigned myself to going back home to get some work done, but not before buying one of several kinds of "biskiti". They don't have names, one is jut more expensive than the other, so you say the price you want. I''d be like going to the bakery to buy a donut, but instead of saying "I'd like a honey-glazed", you simply say "Donut. Seventy-nine cents". Sometimes I'm amazed that I can communicate here at all.

Monetary Musings

2010-11-25T05:28:00.000-08:00

(Written 11-11-10)
It's a little less than a week until what I consider to be the Islamic equivalent of what Christmas is for Christians... What is known as Seliba (big prayer) here. I personally haven't been very preoccupied with it because I've actually been "working" lately, but "Seli" is being referred to more and more as the day approaches. As I believe I've mentioned in previous posts, one of the main things you do for Seliba is buy a big male sheep and eat it. Sheep are to Seliba what turkeys are to Thanksgiving.

But Seliba isn't what I want to bring up. I want to highlight something near and dear to the hearts of most Americans... something according to Malians we white people (stereotype) have in great abundance... Money! And I want to begin with my conclusion... That compared to the world I'm presently living in, yes, Americans generally do have money coming out of their ears, noses, and places the sun doesn't manage to find regularly. Sure, we Americans have all heard this before, but I'm under the impression that it doesn't truly resonate. In fact, I'm certain that after you read this it still probably won't. I mean, it's taken me 16 months of being here to realize what I'm about to say. Ok. Here goes.

Some general base facts first. The majority of Malians survive on subsistence agriculture. They grow their own food, raise their own animals for food and labor, and sell what they can to have some source of monetary income. I believe the AVERAGE farming household rakes in a whopping $250 a year (don't quote me on that). Not month. YEAR. Less than a dollar a day. The majority of that money comes all at one time when crops are sold. And that's for the family. Not the individual. Ok. $250. Remember that.

Now let's switch gears to something near and dear to my heart as a civil engineer / water sanitation extension agent / whatever I am in PC. Pump repair! I've been trying to stress for a year now the importance of maintaining the pumps in my village to the residents. This means collecting user fees to fix the pumps when they break or wear down... Which does happen because the kids beat the snot out of them. By my calculations each of the four most commonly used pumps in village need repairs ranging from $100 -150 immediately and $200 -300 for long term use. That's anywhere from half to a full years total income for a household to fix each pump. Think about that in US terms.

At present I'm doing some prep work in Kolomy for the projects I want to do next year. We want to build two new wells there because Kolomy only has one, yes one, functioning water source during the hot season for the whole village (~ 700 people). Kolomy has two pumps that are currently broken. In a setup meeting I had there the other day I told the village leaders they need to get at least one of the pumps working again before we start construction on these new wells because I am concerned that the combined demand of an entire village's water needs AND the amount of water that is required to mix and cure concrete for the new wells will cause the one functioning well to go dry, which would leave the village with a total of zero water sources during hot season.

I estimated that the cheaper of the two pumps to fix would cost about $120... which comes out to a per household contribution of about $1. After doing this very simple math on my very sophisticated looking calculator one old man at the meeting cried out "One dollar! That's impossible!", whereas other people in attendance didn't seem to be so shocked.

Now, like most Americans, $1 doesn't seem like hardly anything. In fact, to me, this man's outburst translated as "One two-hundred-fiftieth of my annual income! Never!", which seemed rather silly to me. It felt like he was just trying to put up an artificial tantrum to make the white guy feel bad so he would give the village an even bigger hand-out. But then I got back to Koila and had several conversations with people about Seliba and how they are unable to buy a sheep this year. A sheep after all goes for about $50 - 60, which is an enormous sum for a family only pulling in $250/yr. This made me realize that here, in Koila, $1 really is a lot of money.

When you start adding everything up, that $250 has to buy everyone in the family clothes, shoes, school supplies, cooking supplies, food, tools, medicines, and take care of things like taxes and land lease agreements for using farm land. And when you think about a Malian household... A husband, one or two or three wives, five or six kids... suddenly $1 is a considerable amount of cash.

The other day I took my laundry over to the neighbors to be washed and apparently left a 1000 CFA note ($2) in one of my pants pockets. My neighbor's wife found it while washing the pants and put the money aside, intending to give it to me when she returned my clothes, but somehow lost it. My neighbor said she was so upset that she cried for much of that evening thinking that I would be very, very mad with her because of the loss of so much money. That's how valuable $1 is here... and I just shrugged it off thinking "I've got plenty more of those back at the house." To me, that in essence sums up the American and Malian view of money in relative quantities.

Of Water, Mud, & Fate

2010-11-25T03:40:00.000-08:00

I'm gearing up for my final "push" in PC. My last project . It won't begin until next February or March, but planning must happen now in order to secure project funds and to make sure that my villagers get all their ducks in a row. I assure you the former is infinitely more simply than the latter.

I'm happy to say that despite all of the frustration that plagued me last year during my well project the overall result was a resounding success. Surrounding villages are now requesting me to come build wells in their communities and the lessons learned last year are now serving to make me better prepared for this upcoming project.

What is this project you ask? Well, as of this moment it looks like I'm going to make an attempt at building four wells and 25 latrines. All in about three months. This might not seem like a lot to the average, industrious American, but consider that each of the wells I built last year took over three weeks to construct... and these new wells will be deeper and in more difficult soil conditions. And, on top of the wells, 25 latrines is nothing to sneeze at. I figure if we end up doing all the work that has been proposed I will be employing two masons on an almost continuous basis for 90 days. This is not common where I'm at. By the end we will have cast over 4,300 concrete bricks by hand, moved over 55 cubic meters of gravel over 12 km with nothing but donkey and ox carts, and dug up over 80 cubic meters of earth with nothing but shovels, picks, and buckets. If those units don't mean anything to you... it's a lot. Especially when you consider none of the work is being done with mechanized equipment. It's like my own little version of building a pyramid or something.

***

I think it's also worth while to provide some more commentary on water availability in my area. My village, Koila, seems to have found itself in an area of Mali with an uncharacteristically high groundwater table. In wet season water is only about 2 meters below the surface. In hot season 5 or 6 meters. On top of that, the soil is sandy clay or loamy clay, so it is very stable when you are digging a well. People can dig wells quickly and easily and only have to include a thing concrete lining to shore up the walls of the well in many places. The result: there is a well in roughly 75% of the 250 household compounds in Koila.

The situation in Koila, however, is in stark contrast to the realities in villages just down the road. In Kolomy, water is at a depth of 15 meters in hot season. That's three times what it is in Koila. That translates into three times as much time, money, and effort into building one well. In another village, Chanty Were ("where-eh"), you have to dig down 8 meters and the soil is sandy and unstable. This translates to a slower, more rugged construction process that also means a much higher cost per well. These higher costs mean fewer water sources have been developed in those villages, and therefore people have to go much further every day to collect water. In Chanty Were there are four wells and one pump for roughly 600 people. My guess is Koila has about 200 wells and 6 pumps for about 2500 people. Who has more access to water? You do the math...

***

Something I also found amusing is that Kolomy is getting two new pumps. That in itself isn't noteworthy, but I find the situation to be of interest and yet another example of how ridiculous things can be here at times. For starters, let me point out that Kolomy already has two pumps. Both are broken. The village is responsible for repairing these pumps and at present hasn't done anything with them for some time. Now an NGO (name unknown to the villagers) has sent a drilling team to the village to put in two new pumps in other sections of the community. This confounds me. Why would an NGO decide to give new pumps to a village if that community is presently demonstrating that it is incapable of taking care of the ones it is now responsible for? Would it not make more sense to first organize the village and get it's members to maintain it's own infrastructure first, not to mention make sure the community knows what NGO you are?...

The thing is though, I see this all the time. I'd venture to say about 50% of the time my inquiries into who funded/built something is usually answered with "?". (Granted, it is hard to keep up with all the names given the number of NGOs operating here.) I find that the only reason a name is put forth the other 50% of the time is that someone had the brilliant idea to leave a sign behind to remind everyone who was responsible.

The most amusing part about the Kolomy pump story thus far, however, is that the drilling team has been trying to cover a distance of approximately 10 km for the last 4 days and has failed in epic fashion. I was returning to Koila from my market town the other day and ran into a caravan of 5 vehicles, including a drill rig on the road past my village on it's way to Kolomy. They had totally obstructed the one lane road and were just getting the drill rig free from a deep, muddy pot hole when I pulled up. I followed the trucks as far as Koila and watched them attempt to continue on to Kolomy. Apparently they got close enough to see Kolomy's school (where one of the pumps is being put) before having to turn around because the road (more like a path between millet fields) was too muddy. The caravan thus turned around and spent the night in Koila.

The next day they got up and decided on a different, much longer route to Kolomy that followed "better" roads, but would first take them through Babugu, Sama, Dioro, and Tibi before finally getting to Kolomy... A journey of about 35 km. However, somewhere between Koila and Babugu the main drill rig again got stuck in mud, but this time they couldn't get it free. This now meant that a large tractor, bull dozer, or other large and typically unavailable machine would need to be brought in to get the drill rig free. Two days later it still wasn't free. Talk about a delay. And to think... they could see the drill site at one point before having to turn back.

A Celebration, A Farewell, and A Pig Roast

2010-10-26T07:49:00.000-07:00

The last few days have been the end of an era in PC Mali. Two third-year Volunteers (Kyle and Mary) are finishing up their last days of service this week, so to celebrate their successes and departure we've had a few things scheduled the last few days. The main event was the opening of the school at Mary's site that they both have been working on for the past few years. They invited all the other Volunteers in the Segou area to come and party at Mary's site for an afternoon with the rest of her village. But before I jump right into that, let me go back a bit and give some background details.

Kyle and Mary both came to Mali over three years ago. Kyle actually got here several months before Mary, but had to go back to the US for a while after breaking his leg soon after arriving... yet he came back. They ended up being placed about 20 km apart and got to know eachother fairly well during the first year of their service while doing projects at their own sites. Then somehow they got this crazy idea to build a school at Mary's site, and an entirely new kind of PC experience began for them both. They initially planned on having the school designed and built by the end of their two year service commitment, but after countless delays, miscommunications, unkept promises, lack of local government support, and challenges in acquiring funds they have had to stay in Mali for over three years to see the successful completion of the school.

To celebrate, Kyle and Mary and about a dozen other Volunteers jumped in a minibus and set out on a Sunday morning for Tongo, Mary's village, for an afternoon celebration with her village to officially open the new school... despite the fact that it's still being painted and the mayor's office hasn't purchased desks yet. Mary wasn't expecting a large turnout... Maybe her counterpart, some village elders, and the mayor of the local government district.

As our minibus rumbled down the red gravel road into Tongo we were met with an amazing surprise. Hundreds of children and every man and woman of Tongo were lining the road up to the school along with the mayor, a rep from the governors office, dozens of people from other villages, education officials from Segou, and anyone else who had gotten word of the celebration that day. As Kyle and Mary got out of the minibus they were met with the hundreds of children chanting "Bashi-ba, Mali, Bashi-ba, Mali", and a 12-shotgun salute from the local bush hunters. (Bashi-ba being Mary's Malian name.) There was singing and dancing and speeches and picture-taking and lunch. The chief even donated a whole cow to be slaughtered which is a pretty big deal. It was a truly wonderful way for a Volunteer to close out their service and say goodbye to their community.

And to celebrate Kyle and Mary's last days in Segou we had a pig roast (one of Kyle's favorite things to do). It was truly a team effort that took much of the day. Various people were sent throughout the city to buy a pig, lots of charcoal, rebar and chicken wire for a grill, ingredients for bbq sauce, sodas and other drinks, and food for other dishes including baked mac & cheese, deviled eggs, tortilla chips & salsa, and Funfetti cake. As these supplies slowly trickled in other people were put in charge of building a fire pit and grill rack, roasting the pig, making the food, washing dishes, watching movies, eating the food, and fixing the sink in the kitchen that got clogged.

We had wanted to roast the pig with an apple in it's mouth, but it apparently died with a last wish to have a mouth that refused to open. After several hours of contemplation over a bed of hot coals the pig was ready for the dissection table. After cooling down a bit, half a dozen Volunteers gathered around the kitchen table that had been covered with a black plastic sheet and ceremoniously and unmercilessly ripped the pig limb from limb in an effort to extract every piece of delicious, juicy meat from the corpse. All the heat from the fire had loosened up muscles in the head, so after it was removed from the spinal column... and after the tongue had been pushed to the side, we finally got the apple in the mouth! Now, several hours later, after everyone has consumed more food than is healthy in a day, it is dark as we all sit and try to digest the day's plunder and the kitchen table has been left outside as a greasy mess piled with bones, pig fat, and a head with an apple stuffed in it's mouth like some kind of ripened ovary gag. I'm sure when the night guard shows up to keep us all safe he's going to wonder if he shouldn't have come sooner...

Kyle and Mary are the last people to be leaving Segou this year. We've already seen the departure of several others including Megan, Monica, Markham, and Therese. They will all be terribly missed. A new chapter in my PC experience has now begun as I have become an "upperclassmen" of sorts. It feels funny. But regardless of titles, I still have to get up in the morning and clean up the fire pit and figure out what to do with the pig head...

MALI: Mystical Amazing Land of the Inscrutable

2010-10-26T07:45:00.000-07:00

Another Volunteer mentioned the other day that Malians know about things like mermaids, vampires, etc. To verify this I recently asked my village counterpart if there were any magical beings in Mali. His response was an emphatic "yes". Apparently there are a whole host of spirits wandering around as well as mermaids, vampires, and leprechauns. (I have a feeling these concepts are still strongly tied to remnants of animist beliefs that are still widely prevalent here.)

So... spirits. I've been told they're all over and you typically can't see them, but if you see a small whirlwind... that's actually a spirit making it's way through the neighborhood. A lot of times they will "possess" people or try to scare people.

Evidently mermaids aren't the friendly, topless half woman / half fish creatures that Walt Disney would have us believe. Depending on who you ask they live in rivers, oceans, and possibly even ponds or wells. They're quite unfriendly when it comes to humans and are known for taking away people's air while they're swimming, which leads to drowning. My counterpart says its very dangerous to swim in bigs rivers or oceans as that's where most mermaids are. Apparently these harpy-fish never went on play dates with Ariel.

The vampires in Mali do not originate from Transylvania. Rather, they come from the Sikasso region of Mali and northern Côte d'Ivoire, which is where, I've been told, they prefer to stay. (Don't worry mom, I'm not at risk of attack by vampires in my current location.) They tend to stay in trees and will descend down on people and then kill them and drink their blood. Not entirely sure if they can change into bats or not. People don't know a ton about them in Segou since they're not up here.

Leprechauns seem to be the worst of the bunch, and the most understood in my corner of the country. They're really short, have dark skin, beards, may have backwards feet, and can't really be seen by people. They only come out at night and love to jump out and bash people on the head as they travel on roads. And... if you are lucky enough to catch one they will give you lots and lots of things and lots of money. My counterpart says he's seen one or two before and knows someone who caught one once and now is really rich. He also refuses to leave village at night and has forbidden me from traveling on the road to my market town once it's dark out.

I've explained to my counterpart that I think he's totally full of crap and that these "beings" only exist because he thinks they do. His response was to say that the Volunteer who lived in my village in 2006 went up to Bankass once and while there another Volunteer and a bunch of other people saw a giant spirit on the road that was scaring the tô right out of people. "So there!" he declared. My retort was that in America lots and lot of people swim in the ocean every day and we haven't found any mermaids yet, nor has anyone drowned as a result of a mermaid... to which my counterpart replied, "How is that possible?!"

So, either spirits, mermaids, vampires, and leprechauns don't exist, or they are just as geographically uninformed as most Malians and haven't figured out how to get to America yet.

Complex Answers to a Common Question

2010-10-06T06:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in Terminal 2E at the Paris - Charles de Gaulle airport right now, trying to distract myself so the eight hour layover doesn't take so long on my way back to Mali. There are some American girls to my right who appear to be in college. One is wearing a bright yellow shirt and those black spandex pants that make any woman's features appear favorable. To my left there's an assorted mix of Africans who I presume are on their way to Togo based on the destination displayed on the screen for Gate 42. I'm in for an exciting day of people watching as there are two international flights scheduled to depart from my gate before my own. And there's no use trying to sleep for any of those eight hours thanks to the combination of the PA system going off every ten minutes giving the same security alert and the fact that whatever interior designer chose the seating accommodations for this terminal managed to pick chairs that are anything but a pleasant sitting experience.

And can I just take a moment before I get to the real topic of the entry to mention one of my airport pet peeves? Ok. So you know when you go to the airport and you're by yourself and you're not exactly interested in sitting next to a bunch of strangers. You've got a long wait before your flight because you got to the airport early or you have a layover and all you are interested in doing is finding a quiet place to sit and be by yourself for a while before you are herded back on a plane and stuffed in a seat in between a bunch of people you've never met before... who may possibly carry an odor based on the culture they come from. You pick a spot that is sufficiently far away from the next waiting passenger and get comfortable. You're happy. Then some guy walks up and sits down right next to you even though there are literally hundreds of other seats to choose from, and he's listening to an Ipod with the volume turned up so loud that you have no trouble hearing his music over whatever you happen to be listening to on your own Ipod. I HATE THAT!!! Seriously dude, take a different seat on our otherwise entirely unoccupied row and leave me alone!

(Hey, what do you know. That guy must have read my mind. He just got up and went to go board the plane to Togo. Excellent.)

Ok. So the reason I'm in CDG is I'm on my way back to Mali after two weeks back in America. I hadn't planned on going back to the US while in PC, but my sister had a baby and I figured it would be nice to be around for the arrival of my parents first grandchild. My sister also had the amazing foresight to schedule her baby's due date around the time of my own birthday, which also happens to be my favorite time of year... Fall. When all the trees have decided to get dressed up and look decent for once. I got to see parents, siblings, in-laws, grandparents, friends, professors, and the family dog. It was great.

However, one thing that everyone asked me (with the dog as an exception) was what is something that I like/enjoy about Mali. That should be a pretty simple question to answer, yet I had great difficulty with it. In fact, at first I really didn't have an answer. My reply was: "nothing". Sure, that's not entirely true, but nothing seemed to jump out at me. And while I felt like that was (and is) my truthful answer, I didn't like giving it. It made me feel like a downer. An un-happy person. I felt like I was telling people that I was living in a situation without any enjoyment. And now, after two weeks in the US and an eight hour plane ride, I think I have a better answer. Although, it's still not all sunshine and rainbows.

So, what do I like about Mali? That is a simple question with a complicated answer. From the things I've experienced across Mali as a whole (so far) some of the things I like include: bogolan (mud cloth), traditional music (djembes, balafons, and STRING INSTRUMENT), and the incredible friendliness of the people. However, I rarely ever experience the first two things things. There are no artisans in my village, so there's no bogolan, and people don't know how to play musical instruments let alone make them or have money to buy them. What I'm saying is the things I like most about Mali are the exceptions to what is normal about my Mali experience. Most of what I encounter on a daily basis may be amusing at times, but mostly I'm indifferent to it.

I can't really say I like the food. Most Americans I know don't particularly enjoy eating bird seed (millet), and rice and peanut sauce is alright, but not if you eat it for dinner every night of the year. The cloth used for traditional clothing is neat, but I'd never wear a traditional Malian outfit. I am not a fan of the hot, flat Sahel. They don't play any traditional music on the radio near my village (only bad pop music that uses the same drum machine beat for every song). The mint tea is pretty good, but I don't drink it because the water is contaminated. Etc, etc, etc. These are the realities of everyday life for me. I don't dislike them, but I don't necessarily enjoy them either. Much of what is around me simply "is", and that's where I leave it.

And let me also say that I haven't seen the things that most tourists come to see in Mali: Dogon country and the elephants in Hombori (and to a much lesser extent the Hippos in Manatali). I'm sure once I've had a chance to experience some of those things I'll have formulated a different answer to the question in question.

The Un-Necessities of Life

2010-09-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

Recently there's been a lot of hub-ub in the news about some cranky old white guy down in Florida named Terry Jones who woke up one morning and thought it would be a good idea to burn Qur'ans as a demonstration of his faith in Christianity. Whereas the 50 or so people that follow this curmudgeon found his proposal to be full of all kinds of good merit, most people around the world were under the impression that this demonstration of paper's ability to burn at 451 degrees Fahrenheit would be better suited if some other feedstock could be substituted as fuel. Generally speaking, when you live in a country that is already in a sticky situation with a group of people professing belief in a religion that makes up about 1/6 of the world's population, it's a good idea to NOT do something that is going to exacerbate those circumstances by lets say... oh... desecrating the written record of all they hold to be true in life and in the realm beyond.

And by the way... where were all the books for that proposed barbecue going to come from? Wouldn't Mr. Jones first have to go out and either buy (more likely) or steal (less likely, being a "true" Christian) a bunch of copies? Wouldn't that mean that by spitting on Islam he would first have to support it by purchasing books that were most likely produced by a business that operates in support of Islam? I find that kind of funny.

Ok. But so what? What are the real implications from all of this for me. Matt. The guy writing this? Here's the "so what":

I'm currently working in a country where Islam is kind of a big deal. I get woken up every morning, not by roosters or my alarm clock, but from the blaring sound of the call to prayer at 4:30 am. If I'm traveling anywhere in late afternoon the bus will undoubtedly stop so people can pray. Daily, people ask me to go to mosque with them and pray. You can't find pork most places. I could say more, but I think you get the idea.

And not only is Mali a Muslim country, but it comes with two varieties of people. The well-behaving ones, and the poorly-behaving ones. Sadly, the poorly behaving ones happen to be men who have started a little boys club called Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM). They even have secret little club houses up in the Sahara Desert in the northern part of Mali. If you haven't heard of them, they're the guys who have been kidnapping westerners in Niger, Mali, and Mauritania over the past couple of years and bringing them back to the desert to hang out (not a lot of folks in the desert to hang out with typically). And when they're not actively kidnapping people, they're talking about doing so, or being mad at the French for spoiling all their fun after an attempted rescue mission of an abducted Frenchman.

This makes certain parts of Mali a less favorable destination than others for people like me... A white Christian from the US. I consider my neck of the woods (rice field really) to be safe an free of un-do-gooders by the way (don't worry mom). But here's the kicker... there are Americans in lots of other places around the world where the majority of the local population is Muslim and the local sentiment towards people from the US is less than cordial. So... when you're overseas in a place like that, it is not exactly welcome news to hear that folks back home have decided to pick a fight with people you call your neighbors or you local shop keeper or your barber or the guy cooking your food. You're making what is already a difficult situation for a lot of American ex-patriots an even more difficult one.

Alright. Conclusion. In the most politically sensitive way I can think of I'd like to give a shout out to Terry Jones and friends...

Dear Terry,
I find your epiphany to burn a certain religious text to be... unhelpful, not in my best interest, bad for America, silly, petty, stupid. Have a nice day.

Drumming for Tips

2010-09-06T23:25:00.000-07:00

I went out to eat in Segou yesterday with all the new Volunteers being placed in the Segou region. After waiting over an hour for our food to arrive, we still didn't have what we ordered, but a band showed up and started playing Malian music. One guy was on a balaphone (like a xylophone), and three others were playing djembes (drums) of different shapes/configurations. After a while the "lead singer" of the band pulled out a plate and started mingling with us in an effort to collect tips (it worked).

It's hard to distinguish because of the poor video quality, but what the guy is doing is actually pretty cool, although subtle. First off, he's playing so fast that the camera can't pair up the sound with the motion of his hands. Second, in the middle of the video he's able to play while balancing the tip plate on his head. Lastly, towards the end of the video he's able to make the djembe produce different sounds even though it looks like he's hitting the djembe the same every time.

Listening and watching to the band was a nice distraction from the fact that it took almost two hours from the time we ordered until we actually got out food. I feel as if there should be a band situated near most things in Mali to make the incredibly long waiting time for most daily tasks seem to pass more quickly.

Hypochondriacs Beware

2010-08-22T04:34:00.000-07:00

Some of you may have forgotten that on top of being in Peace Corps, I am also in grad school at the moment at Michigan Tech. I'm working on my Master's in environmental engineering and am doing my research while in Peace Corps. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do my research on, but I think I finally have something to look into at least. My idea is to look at drinking water quality from a bacteriological perspective at different sources and points of use to determine if aid agencies should promote source technology or point of use treatment.

So far my "research" has included sampling water at different sources (bore hole pumps and hand dug wells) and points of use (household clay pots) to test for bacteria. I'm using a very simple test medium (3M Petrifilm) which detects total coliforms and E. coli. To do a test you simply apply 1 ml of water onto the petrifilm, let it sit for 24 hours in a warm place, and then count the number of "dots" that show up on the film. Each red or blue dot indicates a CFU (colony forming unit), red for total coliform and blue for E. coli. Each CFU is typically made up of many, many individual bacteria cells.

In the US, the EPA water quality standard for municipal drinking water is 0 cfu/ml (ie. nothing!). We Americans have decided that the water coming out of the tap should be pathogen free. How nice.

The results for water in my village thus far are nothing to celebrate. I tested 3 pumps, 6 wells, and 45 household clay pots. Every single sample I took was contaminated except for two of the pumps. Most with a bacteria count over 100 cfu/ml. Many were over the detectable limit of the petrifilms.

The pictures below are of three different samples that were tested. "P4" is from one of the pumps. It's clean. No bugs to be found. "L2" is a well. Lots of nasties. "HL11" is a household clay pot. Bunches and bunches of yuckiness. The two contaminated films both have over 400 cfu/ml.

If you're wondering why there are air bubbles on the contaminated slides... that's because the bacteria on those films have been gorging themselves on growth media and are now belching and farting out waste products all over the place. (Coliform bacteria aren't known to be the tidiest organisms, which is why we don't want them in our drinking water.)

The Confounding Methods of Shopkeepers and Toddlers

2010-08-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

I got up the other day in Segou and like every other day decided that I wanted breakfast. The remedy to this problem was quite simple. I could go to the patisserie next door and buy a pastry for a dollar, or I could walk down the street to the nearest full service boutique and grab some yogurt, eggs, powdered milk, and bread for less than a dollar. I opted for the less costly, more diverse option that morning and headed to the boutique.

When I get there I grabbed a sachet of strawberry Yoplait out of the fridge outside and then headed inside for the rest of my supplies. It was 8:30 am, and per usual, the boutique owner was in a semi-comatosed state of utter stupidity. I don't know if he was dropped on his head repeatedly as a child (possible), has a substance abuse problem (unlikely), or if his brain cells are slowly being destroyed from the fumes of the gasoline drums stored in the back (probable), but getting this guy to do anything with any sort of urgency or intelligence is on the same level as attempting to have a donkey do cartwheels.

Conversation...

Me: I want 2 eggs.
Him: Here are your 3 eggs.
Me: I said 2.
Him: ...

Me: I want a really small packet of powdered milk.
Him: This one? (holding 20g packet)
Me: No. Smaller. A really small packet.
Him: This one? (holding different 20g packet)
Me: No. Really, really small.
Him: This one? (holding 100g packet)
Me: No!!! Super, teeny-tiny, miniscule in size small!
Him: This one? (holding 5 gram packet)
Me: Yes!!!

Me: I'm done. I want to pay.
Him: (blank stare)
Me: Hey. Give me my change.
Him: Huh?
Me: Change.
Him: (gives me my change)

***

When my stimulating conversation with the shop owner was just about over I started to feel some kind of liquid dripping down the back of my leg. I though maybe I had backed into something in the overstuffed boutique and had spilled something. To my surprise, what I found behind me was a girl of about six holding a little boy less than a year old who had no pants on and was pissing all over me. Needless to say I was very angry (pissed if you will) and wanted to do something terrible to those children. However, common sense thankfully got the best of me and I realized that it was pointless to be mad at a kid who was too young to even know that he was pissing, let along all over the back of my leg. Instead, I stormed out of the boutique, went home, changed, and had breakfast in a bad mood.

I am Shiva, Destroyer of Hair

2010-08-07T09:42:00.001-07:00

It was a rainy day in Segou today, so I thought it would be a good time to get a hair cut. I've only had my hair cut one other time in country so far, and the experience was fine, so I figured if I went to the same place I'd come home a happy customer. That was fatal assumption number one.

Since I can't really explain how I want my hair cut in Bambara and the barbers here don't cut white guy's hair too often, my strategy in the past was to just point at one of the soccer players on a wall poster and say "do that". Last time I got the "Wayne Rooney". This time I was going for more of a "Steven Gerrard" look.

At first the barber had the right idea... except instead of bringing the clipper up to cut, he brought it down my head, which is a terribly inefficient way to cut straight hair. It's like trying to cut wet, matted down grass with a lawn mower. Doesn't work well. But, after a while "the look" started to take form. However, when nearing completion I pointed out that one side of my head was still longer than the other.

Instead of simply repeating the procedure he had been following up to that point, he chose to use an upward cutting motion this time, which left a giant divot on the left side of my forehead. I now had more of a "crater" look going on. There's no way a pair of paramecia sharing a brain cell wouldn't have been able to figure out why I was displeased with the result. Yet the barber seemed dumbfounded as to why I had become so disgruntled after what he had just done.

He then attempted to correct his colossal error and ended up shaving my hair all the same length in a buzz cut. Now I was mad. I could have done what this guy did blindfolded with my non-dominant hand after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, but apparently I decided to bike to the barbers in the rain and pay full price for work that I wouldn't even tolerate for my dog back in the States. AAaarrrgg!

Poisons and Perplexities

2010-08-07T09:39:00.000-07:00

A known fact about modern agriculture is that most farming operations these days rely on synthetic fertilizers, herbicides, and pesticides. Even in a subsistence agriculture society like Mali where manure and other organic refuse is hauled out to fields every year, inter-cropping with nitrogen fixating plants is practiced, and the majority of fields are still plowed with a team of oxen does modern agricultural chemistry reside. In my neck of the woods the primary products being used are herbicides and urea based nitrogen fertilizers for cultivating hundreds of thousands of hectares of rice.

There are several problems with modernizing subsistence agriculture. The biggest of which, in my opinion, is that the farmers are illiterate. Illiteracy only prolongs the other problems I've noticed which include over application of agricultural chemicals, overuse of land (nothing goes fallow), and poor soil conservation practices. People aren't able to educate/inform themselves.

The over application of chemicals results in higher costs to the farmer and a degradation to local ecology in the form of groundwater/surface water contamination and the promotion of algal blooms and other water flora which degrade water quality in surface waters. Water contamination from nitrogen fertilizers can lead to blue baby syndrome, which is pretty tough to catch when all the babies here have dark skin to begin with. Degradation of water quality in surface waters reduces fish populations, which diminishes available food supplies and a good source of protein.

Overuse of land and poor soil conservation practices go hand in hand. Overusing land depletes the soil of organic matter and nutrients, which makes growing more difficult in subsequent years and increases the reliance on synthetic organic fertilizers. Lack of organic material in soil also leads to soil loss and desertification caused by winds blowing away the remaining inorganic minerals. Poor soil conservation is manifested by farmers not constructing wind rows or erosion barriers to prevent soil from being carried off fields by wind or storm water.

***These are not problems specific to developing countries either. The US deals with the same things, but educated farmers and stricter, enforced laws mean these problems are much less common.

I recently had a conversation with my counterpart about spraying herbicides on fields. My concern was that people were applying excessive amounts of herbicides on their fields, which I felt could lead to groundwater contamination. (The fields which are treated are flooded for several months after spraying, and the waters from those fields help recharge the aquifers in and around my village.) At first my counterpart basically laughed at the idea, but when I started asking him where all the well water came from and made the link between rain water, irrigation waters, and groundwater recharge I saw the light click on in his mind. When he understood he said he thought everyone in village should stop drinking well water and only get drinking water from the pumps in town. I then had to calm him down by pointing out that if there was a significant problem a lot of people would be getting sick, which isn't happening, although this doesn't mean that people could still be at risk in the area.

It's funny. People here know that herbicides and pesticides are dangerous chemicals. They buy them in bottles of highly concentrated liquid or granules, which they then mix with water and apply with a hand sprayer. They wash their hands with soap after spraying (but not after pooping?....) and try to keep people away when they are using the chemicals. However, they don't wear gloves, boots, eye protection, or a face mask when spraying (which is indicated on all the packaging with pictures), and they let kids play with the empty containers after they've been rinsed out with water. They also use/mix all the chemicals the same way even though they come in different concentrations. Of course most people don't know this because the directions are in French of English, which they can't read even if they did understand those languages. I've even seen some people using herbicides in hand sprayers that are intended to be applied with an airplane.

I'm also a little miffed that people can't make the connection between a herbicide being bad for a person and an insecticide being bad for an animal. My counterpart's dog had open wounds on both ears the other day that were covered in flies. To "help" the dog out he wanted to dust the dog's head with an insecticide used to kill flies and other household creepy-crawlies. He seemed to have no idea that this might not be the wisest course of action.

A Rainy Friday in Village

2010-07-26T10:01:00.001-07:00

We've had a decent dry spell in village considering that it's supposed to be prime time for rain. The last few weeks have brought clouds, wind, lighting, and thunder, but no rain. This means most people have been sitting around a lot waiting for the rains to show up so they can plant millet.

Fortunately on Friday Allah decided to ease the people's disgruntlement and sent rain. Not the righteous fury that usually shows up... but a nice, long, soaking rain that started at 2 am and went until 2 pm. Now everything is wet, muddy, and damp. But at least the crops are finally getting in.

However, the rain has annoyingly found it's way back into my house through the roof again. I woke up to a small puddle and gobs of mud on the floor. This means that once again I'll have to go borrow someone's tree-trunk-turned ladder, climb up on the roof with a bucket of dirt and stop around barefoot to pack the mud roof down, hoping all the while the "soft spot" that has developed isn't too soft. One thing American and African cultures share in common is a desire NOT to come crashing through one's own roof into the living room.

I've also discovered that I'm going to have to fix the hangar/awning in front of my house. This is the same hangar that, as you may recall, was built by my counterpart without doing any measuring or strategizing before hand. As a result, the crossbeam that supports most of the weight of the roof is terribly undersized and is now sagging considerably under the weight of all the rain that the straw roofing has soaked up. My front door only opens half way without me having to push the hangar up. So, at present I've had to add additional reinforcement in the form of some leftover pvc pipe and a stack of bricks. Doing so has reduced my fear of the whole thing coming crashing down in front of my door, which would leave me trapped inside.

Waking up on a rainy day is something I enjoy here because it means that I have some extra time to myself in my house to read, clean, write, or do whatever I want without feeling like I have to mingle with people in the community right away. It's like a snow day. However, this Friday was an exception. At 8 am a neighbor came over to inform me that a baby naming ceremony was happening across the street. There was no backing out of this invitation even if I wanted to because the celebration was for someone in my "family", the chief was there, and it was directly across from my front door so everyone knew where I was and what I had been up to that morning. Just once though I wish I would be informed about these things before they actually started. I need time to get my party ensemble together and run down to Walgreens to by a "congratulations" card before I can show up... obviously.

In any case, I threw on some nice clothes and a rain coat and went across the street for the celebration. I slipped my way through the mud and arrived just in time to hear the end of the blessing which was being given by the imam with six fingers on one hand. After the prayer I found a place to sit on the ground (like everyone else) inside a tiny little room right in front of the chief and right next to a guy who works at one of the mills in town and has the middle finger on his right hand broken so he's always "flipping the bird". Fortunately that gesture doesn't mean anything here.

Once the "cafe" had been brought out, and after someone fished the leaves out of it, and after it had been spilled all over me by kids attempting to pass cups all over the room, we had a meal. Effectively lunch at 9 am. All the kids and young men left to go eat elsewhere, so I essentially got to eat at the "big kids table" with the chief, which was really a communal bowl on the floor.

After the meal I decided to venture over to the butiki to see what everyone else in town was doing. (Butikis being the main social gathering point in village.) I found the rest of the kids and young men from the baby naming ceremony. They were waiting for their food to be brought to them. Apparently the butiki was serving as a satellite celebration site.

The young men ate at the butiki and the kids ate at a house next door. At the butiki several huge bowls of rice were brought and men gathered around them under the awning of the shop. Some held empty rice sacks over their heads to block rain that was leaking in through holes in the plastic that covered the butiki awning.

Apparently there was a mixup with the food and the kids ended up with a giant bowl of scalding hot rice, but no bowl of sauce to put on it. After waiting patiently for several minutes they decided to take matters into their own hands and came parading out into the muddy, rain filled street carrying the bowl of rice and making a lot of noise. The young men asked what was up and the boys replied that they had no sauce and were going in search of some at the neighbors. I assume they found what they wanted because the noise died down soon thereafter. I think the closest American equivalent would be a cake showing up at a birthday party without frosting and all the young party-goers deciding to take matters into their own hands by hauling the cake all over the neighborhood until they discovered frosting.

Additional Language and Culture Notes

2010-07-26T09:58:00.000-07:00

As I've said before, a big part of Malian culture is greetings. I think I've also made mention of my thoughts about how Bambara as a language seems to be a lot less complex than English. As a result, this seems to provide opportunities to mix things up when I get bored giving the same greetings all the time. My site mate, Therese, who is just finishing up her two years here recently remarked that she spends roughly 39.8% of her day greeting and sometimes she can't help but be inventive to keep things interesting.

So... Standard greetings are typically as follows. There's a lot to say and people usually speak quickly, which means you have to be on your A game if you want to be sharp about it.

"Good morning. How was your night?"
"Was the night peaceful?"
"How are the people of your house?"
"Is your father well?" (Then mother, wife, kids, siblings, etc)
"Are you well?"
"Is there peace?"
"There aren't any problems?"

Then you interject statements of goodwill. Since I'm white the ones people say to me are usually related to money.

"You and wealth."
"You and rest / easy times."
"You and work."
"You and a long time." ("It's been a while.")

I have to give a reply to all of this and offer it back to whoever is greeting me, and vice versa. When it's feeling like a particularly slow day and I need to entertain myself I'll add a few extra greetings for good measure.

"How are your cows?" (Then chickens, donkeys, sheep, and goats.)
"Is your motorcycle well?"
"There is peace in your pit latrine?"

...To which people reply with:
"How is your notebook?"
"Is your pen well?"
"There are no problems with your bicycle?"

And then I'll offer some statements of goodwill that are specific to what a person is doing... so "You and work" becomes:

"You and washing dishes"
"You and getting water"
"You and fixing a motorcycle"
"You and selling things"
"You and drinking tea"
"You and sitting"
"You and driving an ox cart"

You can do this with whatever a person is doing. For example: you and reading my blog. To which you reply "Nba" or "Nse" depending on which set of chromosomes you drew at the conception lottery.

The reason we have OSHA in the US...

2010-07-05T10:06:00.000-07:00

While I intend on finding some kind of desk job when I finish up with PC, in the past I've had a fair amount of work experience in the realm of non-desk job / OSHA regulated stuff. If you don't know (or have forgotten), OSHA stands for Occupational Safety and Health Administration. It's Uncle Sam's workplace watchdog that makes sure people aren't chopping their fingers off or running people over with forklifts when at work. I do feel that OSHA is a good thing, but often times people in the construction, manufacturing, and risk averse industries feel that OSHA rules with a heavy hand. There are often complaints that OSHA's regulations are overly conservative or completely unnecessary, and having worked in the construction and engineering fields, I can understand these complaints.

But I also see why OSHA is a good thing. Take Mali as a case study for example... People using grinders and welders without any kind of protective equipment. People lighting cigarettes off the arc of a welder. People working in unventilated spaces or in excavations that haven't been shored up. No closed-toed shoes. No helmets. No guards on machinery with exposed moving parts. I see a lot of people with massive scars from severe wounds on hands, arms, legs, and feet.

As I've mentioned before, my latest project has been well construction. I've found that on top of teaching the villagers a new method for well construction, I've also had to dedicate a fair bit of time to safety lessons... even concepts that seem fairly obvious to me. For example...

- You shouldn't lower heavy objects into a well directly above someone standing in the bottom of the well. What happens if you drop the heavy object?

- You should make sure that the rope, poles, and beams you are going to use to lower someone into a well can actually support the weight of the workers.

- You should use a rope when going up and down a well shaft, instead of trying to play "Cliffhanger" by scaling directly up and down the loose earth wall of the well.

- You should anchor your rope to something that won't move instead of having someone hold it while a person dangles suspended several meters above the bottom of a well shaft.

I also had a bit of a scare recently with the second well I built in village. My counterpart and a mason were working in the well about three meters above the water surface and 2 meters below the top of the well. My counterpart had been doing some strenuous work in the well and was standing on top of the bricks making up the well lining, in between vertical strands of rebar sticking up about 2 feet out of the bricks. All of a sudden he stopped talking as if to catch his breath, was quite for a few moments and then slumped over between the vertical rebar and the well wall. He fainted. For a second I was seriously freaking out. My counterpart is in his 50's and I thought he was having a heart attack or something.

Fortunately he became conscious soon after, but was pretty weak for a while. The mason in the well, another laborer and I had to pull him out of the well so he could recover. He could have easily been seriously injured by falling onto one of the vertical strands of rebar or by falling into the well where he could have broken something or potentially drowned before anyone would have been able to pull him out.

My counterpart is fine now. I suspect that he was just very dehydrated, low on electrolytes, and... old. I think he forgot that he can't do things like he did when he was in his 20's.

Apparently workers fainting in wells is not uncommon in Mali either. In many places the water table is several dozen meters below the surface, which means men are working in enclosed, unventilated spaces. They end up fainting because air isn't circulating to the bottom of the well fast enough and the workers end up using all the oxygen and pass out. This was not the case for my counterpart, who was only a few feet below the surface.

But the lesson here is that well construction has very real risks and can be dangerous. I've heard stories in the past of people not putting any merit into safety and having a well cave in on workers, resulting in severe injury or death. I find that it is impossible to to eliminate all potential hazards in a workplace, but at least in the US we are very aware of workplace safety. In Mali it's not on the horizon of consideration. I've been here for a year and still don't even know the word for "safety" in Bambara.

Well Construction Video

2010-07-03T09:24:00.000-07:00

Here's a little video showing all the key steps in the construction of my first well project in April.

First we had to cast all the concrete bricks by hand. Ox carts brought sand from the river 10 km away and we used buckets and shovels to mix the concrete on the ground before casting the bricks over a period of about two weeks. At the same time we had two guys dig the well down to the water table, and once there we constructed a cutting ring in the bottom of the well using rebar, bricks, and concrete.

After waiting a week for the concrete to dry, we continued to increase the depth of the well by digging earth out from underneath the cutting ring, which would slowly sink down as soil was removed. We managed to gain an additional meter of depth before we had to stop because soil conditions became unfavorable. We then started lining the well with the concrete bricks and backfilling between the bricks and the exposed well wall. The final step was to cast a cover for the well which would prevent debris, animals, or kids from falling in and contaminating the water.

Along the way we had several things to watch out for. Of main importance was getting the cutting ring level before we started laying bricks so that the well shaft wouldn't end up crooked. Then we had to make sure all the bricks were placed snugly together to maintain the circular shape of the shaft so not to compromise structural integrity. Vertical rebar was incorporated through the entire well and people had to be very careful not to injure themselves getting in an out of the hole. The bricks also presented issues. For instance, I found a snake curled up in the midst of the brick pile one day. Also, no one wore closed toed shoes, so everyone needed to be careful not to drop anything heavy on their feet.

There were challenges and frustrations throughout the project, but the work is done, and now the village school has a safe and reliable source of water for the kids.

I should also mention that my "job" in all of this was to help get funding, organize the project, and introduce the construction technique being used (build technical capacity). I had a guy come in from Bamako to teach the villagers how to do the work, but apart from the trainer, everyone else in the pictures was doing this kind of work for the first time.

World Cup

2010-06-24T01:22:00.000-07:00

The biggest thing to happen in the international soccer community in the last four years is going on at the moment if you haven't heard. It's kind of a big deal, yet somehow Americans still refuse to embrace this, the favorite sport of the world, en masse. This is a part of my own culture I don't understand. To me the "true" American way would be to get thoroughly invested in the world of soccer and completely dominate it, to the frustration and consternation of all others.

World Cup fever, unsurprisingly, has also made it to rural Mali. Despite the fact that I live in a mud house, take bucket baths outside, use a pit latrine with no roof every day, have to carry water to my house, and don't have electricity, I can still ride my bike to the edge of my village and watch all the World Cup games via satellite TV powered off solar panels and car batteries at the doctor's house at the village health center. I find strange paradoxes like this a lot out here...

Obviously I'm cheering for the US and my other favorite teams. I even have a little US flag to wave around when the Etats Unis are playing, which the villagers think is the most amusing thing since someone decided that humans could actually be amused. It's that popular.

When I'm not cheering for the US, I'm rooting for one of the teams in my "World Cup Bracket", which unfortunately had to include North Korea. Uhh! That, or I'm going for teams that I generally consider to be good or have good players. Interestingly this has led me to cheer mostly for teams from Europe and South America. This is in stark contrast to the Malian philosophy of World Cup enthusiasm.

Sadly, Mali didn't qualify for the World Cup. (But they did send a referee squad which ended up shafting the US out of a goal against Slovenia... Coulibaly!!!) Therefore, the locals have had to choose other countries to adopt as their own for the next few weeks. I'll give you a hint... the World Cup is in Africa for the first time.

That's right. They're supporting the African teams. If the team is all black players, they've got the confidence of Mali behind them. It doesn't matter if the team is considered "good" or not. Apparently hope and magical fairy dust are all you need for success. And since magical fairy dust doesn't exists, it's not surprising (to me) that out of the six African teams in the Cup this year, only one is going to make it past the initial group stage.

Needless to say, I get a lot of playful harassment when I cheer for a team opposing a one of the African nations. They tell me that I'm African now, so I have to support African teams.

I find this somewhat interesting. It seems that my soccer enthusiast friends and I will support teams that we regard as good, or the team of our nationality. Race or skin color or geographic location doesn't really play into it. I like Uruguay as much as I like Spain for the same reasons that I don't like South Africa or France. This concept is starkly in contrast to the general order of things here, which is to first cheer for anyone who is the same racially.

The viewing experience is also a bit different compared to the US. Since televisions are few and far between outside the city (literally, satellite even more so), any working television usually draws a crowd. I'm usually watching a game with 30 or 40 other men, who are all packed closely together in order to see what's happening on the 17 inch screen. If anything interesting were to happen... say a shot in the general direction of the goal, or a cross that happens to find no one... there are wild outbursts of enthusiasm. Hands raise up and wave frantically in the air. Sounds of high pitched screaming. A collective leaning in towards the TV. Yelling "Goal" even if the ball sails 18 million miles over the net. And then after the moment of excitement is over there's a nice long group discussion in which everyone simultaneously expresses their opinion on what just happened and then people start yelling at each other if they think it was a bad play. Sure, this is kind of like how a sports bar feels in the US, but without the alcohol and a lot more animated.

Grinds My Gears

2010-06-24T01:21:00.000-07:00

I've tried to keep all my posts up this point as positive as I can. Sure, I hint at things and mention my frustrations, but I've been trying to paint everything is a positive light. Not today. I've got a few annoyances to share, which I feel is appropriate to write about now that I've been here for a year.

You know what grinds my gears about Mali...

When kids see me and they stop what they are doing and start jumping up and down yelling "Too-baa-boo" over and over and over and over and over and over.

When I'm riding my bike in the city and someone sitting on the side of the road starts yelling at me come over to him for no other reason than I'm white.

When people tell me to give them my stuff.

When people tell me to go into my house and get the loads of cash I obviously have... or to send home for money for them.

When I try to take a bus between cities and I hear the baggage handlers tell each other to charge me a lot for baggage because I'm white.

That nothing ever happens "on time".

That community leaders in my village make agreements with me all the time that they don't keep.

That I have to greet everyone all the time... or I'm a jerk.

When people come to the bureau in Segou looking for the tailor shop next door and then can't figure out why there aren't any sewing machines in our room.

Beggars.

When people say "bon soir" (good evening) to me at 7 in the morning.

When my counterpart laughs at me when I explain to him that something that he or others in the village are doing is bad for reasons that seem quite obvious to me (not washing hands, not treating water, not beating kids or wives, not using safety equipment in dangerous situations, having dozens of people share the same drinking cup, the advantages of plates and forks, to name a few).

When people continue to speak to me in French when I tell them I only speak Bambara or English.

When people tell me to get them papers and money to go to America.

When people give me a blank look when I tell them Spain and America aren't connected.

When kids poop in the street outside my concession gate.

The wait at the bank (minimum 3 hours).

Street vendors who try to sell me stuff because they think I'm a tourist. (I am not their friend, which they claim with some insistence)

Gendarmes.

That my counterpart asks me every day if I want to eat some of his moni (millet porridge), which I hate and refuse to eat... and he knows it.

That people will pick up a large spoon and start eating with it when 10 seconds earlier it had been entirely covered with flies.

That bad rap music and pro wrestling are a big portion of the American pop culture that makes it over here.

That my counterpart's radio seems to have two settings... off, or deafeningly loud. He lives next door.

Most music played on the radio.

The lady that tries to see me bread every time I go from Segou to my village... and I NEVER buy anything from her.

That when I try to buy things at most corner stores it often seems that me trying to give the shop some business is more of an annoyance to the shop owner than anything else. Apparently I've interrupted them from the whole lot of nothing they were doing beforehand.

That no one ever has change! (shops, market, bars, taxis, etc.)

Animist Dancing

2010-06-24T01:19:00.000-07:00

I stayed in another Volunteer's village a few days ago and got to experience an animist spiritual ceremony. I guess I would say it was what most people probably think of when they imagine what African ceremonies might look like.

The ceremony took place at night in a large, walled-in courtyard. In the middle of the yard was an open dancing area about 20 feet square. All around this people were seated at least three rows deep on the ground and on chairs or benches. On one side of the open area there was a animist leader/guru/shaman seated in a large chair with several layers of cushions. He was wearing a tunic made out of what looked like white burlap or rough cotton and had scenes hand painted on it. On another side of the area there were some singers, a sound system, and someone playing some kind of wind instrument. In the middle of the open area five men were playing different kinds of drums (all standing).

The drummers would play songs that started out somewhat slowly and then built in intensity to a final peak, and then stopped. After a few minutes break the whole thing started over again.

During the songs men and women would go over to the guru, crouch down, touch his foot with their right hand, and then walk around the perimeter of the open area in a crouched stance holding their right hand out to the feet of all the people seated around the edge of the area. After circling the edge of the area these people would then walk around the circle standing up doing a little dance (think conga line). When the music would begin to pick up in tempo the line would break up and people would move to the center of the open area and begin to dance in one place.

At this point I think they were supposed to be being inhibited by an animist spirit. Their feet would remain on one spot while the rest of their body would whirl around and contort wildly... to the extent that women's head scarves would come flying off. (Think whirling dervishes) After a while if someone else wanted to come in, they would approach someone on the dance floor and touch them on the ankle. The dancer would then stop, walk back into the crowd, and the new person would take their spot.

Some people were "overtaken" more by the spirit than others. Sometimes when a person would get "tagged out" they wouldn't stop dancing. When the music stopped people would have to almost carry the person off the dance floor because they seemed to have lost control of their own body.

The music was really good and it was neat to see people practicing a spiritual element of their lives that is so different from either Christianity or Islam. It was strange and unfamiliar and different.

Kids in Mali

2010-06-15T01:09:00.000-07:00

This is for a young student out in Washington state somewhere who wants to know what kids in Mali look like. Sorry the photo quality isn't the best.

Pic 1: A group of girls (sisters and cousins) in their nice clothes for Tabaski
Pic 2: A bunch of boys doing their best karate poses (karate is HUGE here)
Pic 3: Kids at school. The cloth around the girls waists are their "backpacks"
Pic 4: Two sisters, Worokia and Kaja

People Migration

2010-06-14T03:13:00.000-07:00

I'm going to state something obvious. Ready? People in Mali are poor. Not all, but most. If you didn't know that already, please, by all means continue to live in a bubble of isolation and ignorance.

Now for something less obvious... What does it mean to be poor in Mali and be able to support oneself?

I had a conversation with my dad last night about the economy and job market back home. He pointed out that things in the US are still not good and lots of people still can't find work or are in danger of loosing their jobs. In addition, promises made by politicians to improve the state of economic affairs still haven't been realized by the masses. Officially the unemployment rate in Wisconsin is at about 10% and Michigan is about 15% right now. The overall rate is about 9.5%. In reality those numbers are probably much higher, but have been "massaged" based on how the statistics are reported/interpreted. However, he also pointed out that despite this, the US still is much better off than a place like Mali. With that said, I thought I would provide a little explanation of the job situation in Mali.

Officially, the unemployment rate in Mali is 30%, although to me this number is about as arbitrary as saying that the global temperature will rise by 2.1 degrees over the next 10 years because there has been a 4.6% increase in the number of Big Macs consumed in the last 36 months. It's basically meaningless. Why? Because something like 80% of the population busies itself with subsistence agriculture or nomadic herding for much of the year and then struggles to find something else to do when not engaged in their primary occupation.

If you are a man born in a village, you are most likely destined to be a farmer. You start herding animals about 10 minutes after you learn to walk and then start working "full time" in the fields after 5th or 6th grade. From June to September you cultivate and plant fields. Then from November to March you harvest your crops and sell what you can at market. From April to June there isn't much to do, so you either make repairs to your house or try to find other work.

Since you're a farmer living out in the sticks there's not a lot of jobs to be found in village and not a lot of money to be paid if you could find something. Therefore, you pack a bag, wave goodbye to family and friends, and head to Bamako or a regional capital to find work for a few months. As you are essentially uneducated, you have no valuable work skills. Also, everybody else has had the same idea, so there's more workers than there are jobs. This means that you are limited to very simple jobs that don't pay well because employers don't have any trouble filling employment vacancies. If you do find a job, it will probably be something like unskilled construction labor, pushing a hand cart for local deliveries, selling bottles of water or juice on the street, or loading and unloading trucks. And it will only pay about $2 a day if you're lucky.

You'll probably be living with a relative or family friend or may possibly pay to board at someone's house. You live as meagerly as possible so that you save all the money you can for when you return to your village for the next planting season. If things are really bad, you may even move to Ivory Coast and try to find similar work in one of the port cities and the send money back home. This migration of people makes it very difficult to establish official population and employment statistics because people are constantly moving back and forth between city and village.

Also, there are no government services to act as a safety net. No social security. No health insurance. No unemployment benefits from the government or employers. No retirement funds. No occupational safety regulations. You're on your own. If you can't find work, well that's just too bad. And if you get injured and can't work... I guess you should have been more careful when using a grinding wheel without any safety glasses...

When The Rains Come Down

2010-06-13T15:28:00.000-07:00

Rainy season is almost upon us. Hopefully a drop in temperatures will also be included in the bargain. Unfortunately, I also have it on good authority that there will be a rise in humidity and a topographical transformation in which the landscape will become much more muddy.

Rain in Mali is not like rain in the US. Rain here takes it's job much more seriously. It doesn't just simply roll in, provide a light sprinkle to moisten the area, and move on. No. It barges in like a woman scorned. All wind and dust and lightning and thunder and water in intense volumes. Heaven hath no fury like a Malian rainstorm.

In its wake the land is temporarily transformed. Hills are left cut with deep gullies. Village streets turn to chocolate pudding and are inundated with water. (It gives new meaning to "taking the high road".) Every depression becomes a shallow pond or lake. Because the land is so flat, the stormwater simply has no place to go to, so it remains where God has deemed it appropriate to fall.

When it's raining, everyone obviously stays inside. Ordinarily, this is the place to be during a storm, but what do you do if your mud house with a mud roof develops a leak? Well, then you enjoy the rain's company indoors and try to dodge the globs of mud that will inevitably be dropping from the ceiling every so often until the rain stops. Then you wait for your roof to dry out for a bit, find a ladder, get on top of your house and walk around barefoot until you find the "soft spots" where the roof is slowly caving in from the inside. Then you pile fresh dirt over the soft spots and stomp it down with your feet as you feel the wood beams holding the roof up underneath you flex up and down with every forceful application of your foot.

The arrival of the rains also means the start of the new farming season. The first serious rain the other day meant a complete shift in daily village life. On Tuesday everyone was busy making repairs to their homes and relaxing under shade trees drinking tea. After the rain finished on Wednesday morning all the men had their work clothes on and were out in the fields ploughing the soft soil for planting. Since all cultivation is done with a team of oxen and a steel plough it is important to capitalize on the time available so that the rains can be maximized.

In my part of the country the first thing to be planted is millet. Then peanuts and rice. Several people in my village have told me that I should get a plot of land and farm rice this year. I told them that probably wouldn't be such a great idea since I don't know how to farm rice and I don't own any farming implements. That and I just don't want to. I've got more important things to do like read a book or stew in frustration when no one comes to meetings I've organized. But then again... I can't be that mad as now they're all out trying to grow enough food to feed their enormous families and earn a small amount of income for the remainder of the year.

Hostels, A Case Study:

2010-05-31T09:40:00.000-07:00

Most hostels offer private rooms at a high price and dorm style rooms for a low price. Typically the dorm rooms have four to eight beds in them, meaning if you travel alone or in a small group you're likely to have some roommates wherever you go. I had my first experience staying in a hostel dorm room by myself in Bern... and it left a lasting impression.

While depositing my things in my room after dinner I discovered several things. I had been assigned to a room with six beds (three bunks). The first set of bunks was occupied by a college couple from Colorado. The second by two girls from Austria who spoke minimal English. The third belonged to me and a guy that wasn't around at the time. I discovered, however, that he had found my bed a convenient place to let his wet laundry dry... which was a nice welcoming touch I have to admit. As I had just run into a cute Australian my mind was elsewhere focusing on trying to get back downstairs so I could get a drink with her, so I didn't think much of it.

The next morning I woke up in a rather unusual, but effective way. I was on the bottom bunk and the unknown guy above me apparently needed to be up early to go who knows where. After rummaging through his stuff (waking me and the Austrian girls up) he left to go down the hall to take a shower. I promptly fell back asleep.

When I woke up again I had a bit of a surprise. The unknown guy was back from the shower and collecting some of his things from the bunk above me. This meant that he was literally standing right in front of my face. He was also quite naked. "And a good morning to you too, sir", I wanted to say. Instead I decided to roll over and think of more pleasant things such as my dog dying or eating a jar of mayonnaise.

Moral of the story: A hostel might have more to offer than it advertises...

Vacation: Survival Tips and Musings from Europe

2010-05-31T09:37:00.001-07:00

I just got back to Mali after a much needed three week vacation to Europe... The place Eddie Izzard refers to as "where the history comes from". I had an amazing time and fell in love with Switzerland in particular. My only regret is that I can't speak German, otherwise I probably wouldn't have come back... Here are a few stories and highlights from my trip. Be amused, entertained, or informed. You'll probably get a bit of all three.

The genesis of this trip began with the prodding of my friends Julie and Steph wanting to visit me and have an excuse to go to Italy. They also managed to drag our friend Sam into the mix, and so we made plans for nine days in Italy. After I did the math I realized it made sense to stay in Europe as long as possible since it is still quite hot in Mali at the moment. So, I decided to make my dollar/euro/CFA go as far as possible. I made plans for an additional five days on my own and six days with a friend, Paige, who I had met at Tech last year. One of her roommates, Alex, also came along. They had both been studying in Helsinki this past semester.

Italy
My time in Italy included stops in Rome, Florence, Venice, and Cinque Terre. I won't bother listing everything that we saw. Just think of everything typical of Italy. We did that.

Favorite part of Italy:
Hearing a priest perform mass at San Miniato al Monte on a hill overlooking Florence and then going to dinner at a wine bar down the hill just outside the old city wall.

Tips on Italy:
If you buy a Gelato, don't expect to be able to eat it in the shop unless you pay for a table. Tap water doesn't exists in Italy, it's a myth. Be quiet while in the Sistine Chapel or you will be loudly "sshhh-ed" by the Vatican guards. Try the house wine. Not all gnocchi is created equal. A menu may translate something to English as "sweet pepper" when it should actually read "spinach". Even with a railpass, you still have to pay a 10 euro seat reservation fee for the good trains. Your hostel room might not be close to the hostel office, so wear walking shoes. Your hostel may or may not change your sheets/towels every night if the room even comes with them. Toast in a bag - embrace it.

Switzerland
My favorite part of the trip took place in the magical land of hope and wonder that the locals have dubbed Switzerland. Snow capped mountains, forests, rivers, lakes. Integrated transportation that incorporates bikes, buses, boats, trains, and trams! And because of the difficult terrain... amazing feats of engineering! The longest, deepest tunnel in the world! Flow control structures on rivers that act as weirs for the drainage of entire mountain valleys! Mandatory separation of municipal waste (paper, plastic, metals, glass, organic/compost, other)! Fine chocolates! The list could go on forever.

I spent time in Lucerne, Interlaken, Bern, and Zurich. I couch surfed for the first time in Lucerne and met some great people. One of my hosts was a civil engineer, another a chef, and the third a conference organizer for international pharmaceutical companies. I got to talk about nerdy engineering stuff, eat great home-cooked food, and learn a lot about Switzerland, Europe, and the other places they had been to.

Tips on Switzerland:
You can rent bikes for free in most major cities for up to four hours. With a rail pass you don't have to make seat reservations for any trains. They prefer Swiss francs, but a lot of places will also take euros or even dollars! English is widely spoken, so fear not unschooled American travelers who don't speak French, German, or Italian (all national Swiss languages). Weird fountains are everywhere. Things cost more, but like anything, a higher price usually indicates better quality, which is what the Swiss are all about. You can't throw a stick and not hit a watch store.

Germany
I spent time in Munich, Heidelberg, Freiburg, and was in Frankfurt for about 2 hours. Among other things I went to a castle, saw a concentration camp, hiked around in the Black Forest, went to a few beer gardens, and had more bratwurst, schnitzel, potato pancakes, and sauerkraut than is healthy for one person in such a short amount of time.

Tips on Germany:
Despite being famous for cars, the Germans have truly embraced the bicycle. They're everywhere and sidewalks are divided into pedestrian and bike lanes. Make sure you're in in the appropriate one or the consequences could be disastrous. In the Black Forest area, make sure to try Black Forest Cake (Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte). Germans do pain au chocolat better than the French. You can order beer by the liter (~ 2 pints). Sauerkraut is a winter food, making it difficult to find in warm months. If a menu lists an item, but precedes it with the prefix "mega", the menu is not joking. Example: "mega-schnitzel" comes as a large plate of fried potatoes that is overlaid with a plate-sized schnitzel. The Germans don't mess around when it comes to meals.

France
I spent less than 72 hours in the French Republic, but hit all the important stuff. By that I mean I went to Strasbourg and Paris. Strasbourg is the seat of the European Parliament (European Union) and Paris has been described to me by a Frenchman in Segou as "the only real France". I saw all the famous stuff in Paris and added the Paris Sewer Museum into the mix. That one is a "must see" and "must smell" if you ask me. I took a ride on a high speed TGV train to get from Strasbourg to Paris, but in the best of French traditions it broke down three times on the way. Despite this, I did manage to become one of the fastest moving objects on the planet at the time for about an hour when the train did manage to reach an average speed of over 280 km/h (175 mph).

Tips on Europe:
If you order a "coffee" you are not going to get not so much coffee as you are going to get the thought of a coffee in the American context. Rather, you will get a shot of expresso that will last about 4 seconds. If you order a "water" you are going to get a bottle of water that has gas in it... not a glass of tap water. This you must specify. If staying in hostels, bring a lock and bedding as some places only provide these at an additional cost. Don't be surprised if you get incredulous looks from people that are sitting in your assigned train seat when you ask them to move (Italy especially). You can spot a Canadian backpacker in Europe a mile away as they all have Canadian flag patches on their packs. I assume this is to done to identify themselves as persons who will freely give out hugs and good-natured accompaniment as I think it is genetically impossible for a Canadian to be of an ill disposition.

Interesting Short Stories and Excerpts

2010-05-07T06:54:00.000-07:00

Food Security
One of the biggest problems in Mali is food shortages across the country despite the fact that the majority of society is involved in subsistence agriculture or commercial farming. One of the nights Shaka (the tech trainer) was in my village he decided to take a walk around the edge of my village. When he came back he mentioned that he was amazed at how much farmland there was in the area and how big our community garden is. He remarked that he was baffled at the fact that Mali experiences food shortages every year despite the amount/potential of food production. When I ask him to explain why he thinks this is he makes a hand motion to indicate the villagers and then points to his head and says, "no good". His point was that the farmers are capable of producing enough food for themselves and city dwellers, but don't understand the economics of farming or how important it is to store grains.

A Slithering Surprise
During the brick making process for the school well we ended up stacking the bricks into a large block for curing and so that it would be easier to spray them with water. When it came time to put them into the well we had to brush off excess concrete and dirt from each brick before carrying them to the well hole. While picking up one of the bricks I discovered a snake several feet long that had made its home between two bricks. I asked Shaka to take a look at it and he said to stay away. I had no idea if it was dangerous or not, but we both decided to err on the side of caution and not find out. So, I grabbed a nice long piece of rebar and effectively made sure there was one less snake to be found in the world. And if it's any consolation to the snake, it wasn't personal... it just gave both Shaka and I the hibbly-jibblies.

A Work Ethic Story
There are many times when Mali is a very confusing, frustrating place for me. One of the things I don't quite understand is the work ethic of villagers. When they do work, they do so with incredible vigor. However, actually getting men to come out of the shade where they have been drinking tea often proves to be very difficult. For example... My counterpart won't work in the afternoon. And he won't try to look for other people to work in the afternoon either... because people don't do work in the afternoon... apparently. Also, if there is a wedding... you get the day off. And since everyone goes to everyone else's wedding, you get a lot of days off. The same is true of baby naming ceremonies and funerals. All said and done, I'm surprised any work gets done in village most days. Clearly this is a work to live culture, not one in which people live to work. You are not defined by what you do, but simply by your existence and your interactions with others.

This is difficult for me. I come from the upper mid-west. A very German sort of place where what you do with yourself is important. You live to work. Productivity is valuable. Time spent sitting around with friends not "doing" anything is viewed as time wasted... and there's nothing worse than wasting time in America.

In village there is very much an attitude of "We'll get to it... eventually". I operate more under the premise of "Let's get to it now".

The 1/2 Epic Saga of a Well Construction Project

2010-05-07T06:45:00.000-07:00

I spent the past month at site with the exception of a 12 hour trip to Segou to get my hair cut and swap my old, broken bike for a new, totally righteous one (it came with a water bottle, wow!). I used the month to execute the first half of my second PC project: well construction. I also had a visit from my PC boss and my grad school adviser on separate days.

My second PC funded project includes the construction of two wells and village training on how to use a new well construction technique. One well is being put at the village school, and the other is in the community garden. The training involved having a PC technical trainer come to my site from Bamako for about 10 days to help construct the first well at the school and use the time to explain how things are done. The idea was that the villagers would then be able to construct the well in the garden using the new technique on their own.

This entry is a daily accounting of what turned out to be a very frustrating few weeks. Regular text is a literal description of what happened or what was said. Text in italics is my own personal narrative of what I was thinking at the time.

A Brief Background
The common well construction practice in my part of Mali is to dig a hole in the ground as far down as possible into to water table and then lower 1/2 meter tall reinforced concrete cylinders into the well by hand to prevent the well walls from collapsing later on. Lowering the cylinders is extremely dangerous as they weigh several hundred pounds each and villagers often use old or damaged rope/rigging which sometimes breaks. This can lead to injuries or cylinders being dropped in the well shaft where they can break or become stuck in odd positions.

The new construction technique that we are using for this project uses circular (curved) bricks to line the well and a cutting ring to extend the well deeper than would be possible with the traditional method. This method is a lot safer because the weight of the bricks is far less than the cylinders and you have the ability to make the well deeper to ensure it doesn't dry up as easily.

The process involved is as follows. First, start making concrete bricks. While these are drying dig the well down to just above the water table. (if the soil is stable, you don't have to worry about lining the shaft as you dig, which is the case in my village.) Then you cast a concrete cutting ring in the bottom of the well. (This is a concrete ring with a triangular bottom that acts as a blade. All the bricks lining the well are placed on top of it.) Once the cutting has cured you start digging soil out from underneath it while placing bricks on top. By doing this the cutting ring will sink into the water table and the well shaft will be lined, which prevents the much more unstable, saturated soil from collapsing. When you have gone deep enough into the water table where water is preventing further excavation you line the rest of the well with bricks and backfill the lower half of the well with gravel. Finally you pour a concrete splash pad around the well head and cast a concrete cover with a door to keep things from falling into the well.

Early April
I had a meeting with my counterpart and the village elders to discuss the logistics of the project. We agreed that PC would supply funds to pay for skilled labor, the technical trainer, cement, rebar, and special construction tools. The village's contribution will be aggregate for making bricks and concrete (sand, gravel), materials transportation, unskilled labor, a barrel of water every day, general construction tools, and food/lodging for the technical trainer. The elders pointed out that I have budgeted too little money to pay the well digger. This is something my counterpart should have caught when we met with the well digger to discuss pricing.
From step one the project began on the wrong foot with my counterpart not doing his part to make sure everything was accounted for. As a result, we were beginning the project without enough funds according to our budget. Fortunately I over estimated on some things so I wasn't too worried about that.

Wednesday, 4/7
I ask my counterpart to arrange to have sand brought to the construction site at the school. He says sand will come tomorrow

Thursday, 4/8
I talk with Madu, who is the head of the village school committee, and ask if sand has arrived. We find out that four carts of sand (of an estimated 20 required) came that morning, but two we taken to the garden, not the school.

Friday, 4/9
I go to Dioro, our market town, to buy cement, rebar, and special tools, which are then brought back by villagers.

Saturday, 4/10
We start making curved concrete bricks (we need about 350 total). My counterpart told me several people were coming to help, but my counterpart and I were the only people to show up. I had also asked for more sand to be delivered, but none came. We make about 50 bricks, but our cement to aggregate ratio got messed up, so the bricks ended up being very poor. I ask for a barrel of water to be brought, but it shows up after we finish working. We end up getting all our water for making bricks from the old school well. Madu and Abudu (the school administrator) come to see our work and are very critical.
The well digger was supposed to start digging, but he and my counterpart got into a huge argument over the amount of money that should be paid to begin work. My counterpart refused to pay the digger's starting price, so we find a different well digger. He can't start until Monday.

Sunday, 4/11
I ask for sand and water, which is promised, but neither comes. I wanted to make bricks, but no one could work (all day apparently) because there was a wedding that day. I also ask my counterpart to have rigging and a pulley system set up for the well excavation. He says he'll take care of it.

Monday, 4/12
I again ask for sand and water. One cart of sand arrives, no water. Only my counterpart and I show up at the job site to make more bricks. The new well digger begins working. The well rigging doesn't show up. I ask my counterpart, he says he'll take care of it.

Tuesday, 4/13
I ask for sand, rigging and water. None comes. No reason given. I express my frustrations to my counterpart. He says tomorrow will be a productive day and that having water brought to the site is not a big priority because the old school well has water in it.

Wednesday, 4/14
I ask for sand, rigging, and water. Several carts of sand come. No water, no rigging. My counterpart tells me that rigging is not necessary because we aren't digging a well "that" deep. I tell him to get the rigging set up by tomorrow in anticipation for the technical trainer's arrival. Three villagers come to help make bricks. We end up using so much water that the old school well goes dry (which is why I wanted water brought to the site in the first place). At this point we have made about a third of the total number of bricks we need.

Thursday, 4/15
I ask for sand, rigging, water. Nothing comes. The well digger is now at a depth of 4 meters. So far the soil has been nothing but hardpan clay which is so difficult to dig through that the well digger has had to replace the handle on his pick axe multiple times because he keeps breaking it. The digger and my counterpart have a discussion in which the digger expresses his concern that we might hit a confined aquifer. If this is the case, when we hit water, instead of simply finding mud, it would be like punching a hole into a container under pressure. The result being that the well could flood several meters deep with water before we would have lined it with bricks to prevent a future collapse. My counterpart tells me that sometimes when digging wells they encounter a confined aquifer... something he neglected to tell me earlier, which would have been very good to know. Later that day the digger hit water at 4.5 meters, but the aquifer was unconfined... Thankfully.
The technical trainer (Shaka) came to my village. The plan was for him to take a bus from Bamako to Dioro and then have someone pick him up in Dioro with a motorcycle and bring him to village. The bus ended up running late and arriving at 10 pm. My counterpart's son went to pick him up, but after waiting for a while and getting confused about which bus to look for he came back to village without Shaka. We then had to scramble to find someone to go back to Dioro to get Shaka, who at this point was waiting in the dark in an unfamiliar place. He ended up arriving in village at 11 pm.

Friday, 4/16
I ask for sand, rigging, water. A few carts of sand arrive. No water. No rigging. Shaka asks me why there's no rigging set up at the well. I explain to him that I have had difficulty getting any kind of village participation on the project and that rigging had been promised the day before. Shaka's purpose for coming was to construct the cutting ring and then go back to Bamako while it cured. I thought we would be able to do all the work in one day, but because of a lack of village help that day we ended up only doing prep work on Friday.

Saturday, 4/17
We cast the cutting ring in the bottom of the well and made some bricks. More villagers show up to help and watch after Shaka complained to my counterpart. Shaka tells me that with all the difficulties I have had up to this point he doesn't think I should start any other projects like this once the current project is completed. After work that day Shaka went back to Bamako. His plan was to come back on Monday, the 26th, to help sink the cutting ring and line the well with bricks.

Sunday, 4/18
I ask for sand, rigging, water. Nothing comes. No work done.
At this point I'm starting to get very frustrated with my counterpart and village.

Monday, 4/19
Same as Sunday. Wedding given as the reason for now work or supplies. I ask my counterpart why barrels of water aren't coming to the job site. We need water there every day for making bricks and to pour on the bricks that have been made already to help them cure in the hot weather. (My counterpart is aware of this.)
My counterpart asks what we need water at the school for. I remind him.
Deep down I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "What have we needed water at the job site every other day for up to this point?!" Unbelievable!!!

Tuesday, 4/20
I ask for sand, rigging, water. I actually got a barrel of water. No rigging, no sand. The plan was to make 200 bricks that day. The idea was to cast the rest of the bricks needed that day so that we would have a week for them to cure before Shaka would be back to start putting bricks in the well. Several people showed up to help, but after lunch we ran out of sand and only ended up with 120 bricks.

My PC boss did a site visit that afternoon to see how I was doing. I explained that up to that point I was having a very difficult time getting my village to commit to their end of the bargain with the project. After giving several examples of my frustrations, my boss (who is Malian btw) came to the conclusion that my counterpart was the cause of most of the problems. We ended up having a meeting with key members in the village where my boss explained that I was very unhappy with the way things were going.

During the course of the meeting my boss and I discovered that there are two committees governing business related to the school. Apparently the people in charge of these committees were not communicating with each other and as a result a lot of things were falling through the cracks. My counterpart was also organizing certain things on his own which were not being followed up by one of the committees. I had no idea about any of this before hand. I didn't even know there were two school committees. All of this was stuff that my counterpart should have communicated with me.

Wednesday, 4/21
I ask for sand, water, rigging. A few carts of sand show up. We need to make about 100 bricks today. We can't make bricks later on because they wouldn't have had enough time to cure. My counterpart and I are the only people who show up to work. We make 60 bricks by lunch time. My counterpart then says that he's tired and that we should stop for the day and make the rest of the bricks on Thursday. I explain that this is unacceptable and that I'm coming back that afternoon to make the other 40 bricks regardless if anyone else shows up, but that I expect him to find some people to help me. My counterpart explains to me that people in village don't work in the afternoon in hot season. When I ask why he is unable to give a legitimate explanation. I come back that afternoon with one other person and finish making bricks.
At this point I am absolutely furious with my counterpart and have no desire to work with him, but have to in order to keep this project going. I need to keep things moving to get ready for Shaka's return and ensure that all work on the first well is completed before I leave village for a few weeks of vacation in Europe.

Thursday to Sunday, 4/22 to 4/25
I ask for sand, rigging, water. Sand and rigging finally come Sunday... the day before Shaka is to return. The rigging my counterpart brings to the job site is undersized and inadequate. A few carts of the sand that showed up were not the kind we needed.

Monday, 4/26
Shaka returns. Same bus fiasco occurs. Bus runs late. Someone goes to Dioro to pick him up but gets tired of waiting and comes back without him. Shaka ends up waiting in the dark alone. When my counterpart finds out about this he has absolutely no urgency to remedy the situation. He doesn't even explain to Shaka what is going on when we call him. My counterpart takes the phone, asks where Shaka is, says the motorcycle came back to village and then hangs up. Doesn't say we're sending someone else or anything like that. Shaka calls his boss who calls me asking what the hell is going on at 10:30 at night and why don't we have our act together. All I can say is my village has dropped the ball yet again.

Tuesday, 4/27
We sink the cutting ring. The well digger comes to help with this. After about 1/4 meter of digging we hit a saturated sand layer. The sand was so plastic that it was seeping into the well under the cutting ring faster than gravity's ability to push the cutting ring down. As a result a cavern about 1.5 meters deep formed around the entire circumference of the bottom of the well. Essentially all the working area up on the surface at this point was suspended as a cantilevered ledge around the well. Not good. We had to stop digging and start putting bricks into the well and backfill immediately to safeguard against a possible collapse.

Wednesday to Sunday, 4/28 to 5/2
We line the well. The well ended up being about 5 meters deep and we were only able to lay about 1 meter of masonry a day because we had to wait for the mortar to dry before moving our work platform up the well shaft.

Monday, 5/3
We pour the concrete pad around the top of the well and cast the well cover. After 10 days of curing we'll put the cover on the well and shock the well with bleach to eliminate any contamination that might have occurred during construction.

Project Summary
Despite the frustrations, mistakes, and delays we got the first well finished on the last day I was in village before leaving for vacation. The new well has about 3/4 meter of water in the bottom and the water is clear, which is good. The day before I leave for vacation the well digger begins the second well. I leave the fate of the second well in the hands of my counterpart and another villager who helped with the school well. I'm honestly not expecting the second well to be finished by the time I get back to site (even though they will have plenty of time to do the work)... but maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.

It's not the Heat... It's the Humidity

2010-04-10T23:50:00.000-07:00

I think that statement should be revised to read "It's the heat AND the humidity".

Hot season is definitely in full swing and the daily temperature average is expected to continue to rise. Yesterday it was 116 degrees F in my village... in the shade. Good news is it's not terribly humid... only about 72% humidity or so.

But that doesn't stop me from sweating while doing the simplest of tasks. Sleep, sweat. Wake up, sweat. Eat breakfast, sweat more because I'm cooking inside. Run an errand across village, loose a quart. Take a nap after lunch, shake off afterward. Sometimes I think my sweat is actually sweating as well. This is all terribly taxing on my integumentary system (which contains the skin and sweat glands).

I'm guessing right now I go through at least 4 liters of water a day. This makes for a somewhat vicious cycle as well because it means I am drinking more water than I used to every day, which means more trips to the pump, which means more sweating, which means more drinking, which means more trips to the pump, etc., etc.

All this sweating also means that I need to make sure I am getting enough electrolytes. Especially if I do something physically strenuous like make a 35 km round trip to my market town or help cast several hundred concrete blocks for a new well that's being put in at the school.

I have found changing clothes throughout the day is also smart... and not simply to avoid that "soggy" feeling. Wearing damp clothing in temperatures like these is a good way to develop heat rash or other skin maladies.

While it is definitely hot, it's not unbearable. I've gotten used to things by now. If anything it's more of an annoyance. Manual laborers only work about four hours a day now because it's so hot during mid-day. This means construction projects take longer to complete, and right now I'm trying to get two wells put in before May 1st. Easier said than done I'm finding out.

A Messy Situation

2010-04-04T04:41:00.000-07:00

**Warning: This entry is going to contain more engineering lingo than the average lay person hears in a lifetime. Prepare to learn something.

I went to the Segou mayor's office the other day with another Volunteer and a PC water/sanitation program assistant to discuss the possibility of a wat/san Volunteer working for the city in the future. Specifically, the mayor wants a Volunteer to help the city deal with trash. Segou used to be known as "the cleanest city in Mali", but now that it has become home to over 100,000 people... without much improvement to the city's waste management infrastructure... things have become somewhat messy. This is a concern to the mayor because a lot of tourists come through Segou, so first impressions are important.

Our discussion with the mayor taught me a lot about waste management in Mali and showed me that things here work about the same as in the US (with the exception that environmental hazards aren't considered). The waste stream has the same beginning... someone's house. From there, garbage men come with a donkey cart, pick up the trash, and take it to one of several trash depots (transfer stations) throughout the city. These depots are simply vacant lots where trash is dumped. There is no fencing to enclose the land, and no sort of impermeable clay or concrete "floor" to prevent hazardous liquids from seeping into the ground, which results in soil and groundwater contamination. There also aren't any restrictions or separations to remove certain hazardous materials such as car batteries, pharmaceuticals, oils, industrial wastes, or leftover mayonnaise.

From the depots, city dump trucks take the waste to a landfill several kilometers outside of town. At present, the "landfill" the city uses is actually an old excavation from a large building project that was never finished. Essentially it's a giant hole in the ground that is being filled with trash. There is no sort of impermeable layer to prevent environmental contamination. The good news is that the area is elevated enough that it doesn't experience flooding during the rainy season. That would mean all kinds of nastiness spilling out all over the place. However, since the waste is being put in a depression, all the rain that falls on the "landfill" gets soaked into the ground with whatever goodies it has managed to wash off.

The good news is that the city is currently building a new landfill about 12 km outside of town. The bad news is that they've run out of money and can't finish the project. I have no details on the design specifics of that project.

With this said, the city currently has several problems with waste management. There is trash everywhere! There are several reasons for this. One is that the population of the city has grown tremendously in the past few decades. This means a lot of people now live in Segou who are not traditionally from the area, and thus do not have the same attachment to the city as older residents. Many of these people come from villages where having trash laying all over the place is the norm, so they don't place as much importance on waste removal.

Another problem is that many people don't pay for trash pick up. They are supposed to, but don't. As a result, the garbage men don't come and people begin throwing trash in the streets. The system for collecting fees is also very inefficient and poorly set up, so many people are able to avoid paying for service. The result is that the city is short on funds.

Being short on funds means the city can't afford to pay all the personnel they need and there no money to make repairs to vehicles when they break. The mayor is also unwilling to raise taxes to solve this problem as raising taxes is not a very popular thing to do. It's also not practical to enforce payment for waste removal because if they did half the city would be in jail... this place isn't overflowing with cash.

On a slightly different note, a major liquid waste problem the city is currently facing is the failure of the city's septic tank pumping truck. There is one truck for the whole city and they can't fix it because they don't have enough money. Everyone here either has a pit latrine or septic tank. There are no piped sewers. Right now, to solve this problem, there are guys going around with tanks on donkey carts that are operated by hand crank pumps. So, the septic tanks are getting pumped, but not as quickly. And... where do you suppose the septage is dumped? Yep, you guessed it... into the river! There is a reason the PC medical officer forbids Volunteers from swimming in surface waters.

I guess the good news about all of this is that when I first came to Segou my first thought was "wow, it's so clean compared to other places in Mali". And that's still true. Despite problems, the city is still relatively clean, but something does need to be done to prevent the situation from becoming worse... and that means finding more money for the municipal government.

Tool Time - Home Edition

2010-03-28T13:25:00.000-07:00

It seems like it's been a while since I've discussed the regular goings-ons of village life.

When I first got to Mali it was rainy season. This meant most people were out plowing and planting fields. December was cold season, which meant harvest time.

Now it's hot season. How hot? Over 105 degrees Fahrenheit every day. A cool dip into the 80s at night. At this point it hasn't rained consistently since early October, so it's been pretty dry. Everything is brown. Rivers and ponds have significantly shrunk or disappeared altogether. There is no agricultural activity aside from herding cows. Dust abounds. Sun is abundant when not obscured by the aforementioned dust clouds.

What do people do you might ask? This part of hot season might be more appropriately labeled "home improvement" season. It's all about fixing up or building houses...Unfortunately it's a little low tech for Bob Vila or Tim Taylor.

How does "house building season" work exactly? Well, first you need to hitch up a team of cows to your cart, head out to the fields and bring back a couple cart loads of nice, clayey soil. Then grab a couple of old oil drums, fire up that trusty cow cart, and head out of town to the irrigation canal for the rice fields and grab a few barrels of water. (You do this by simply backing the whole cart into the canal... water up to the cows noses.) When you get back into town, start making mud. Add some straw to the mud. Then grab your favorite brick mold and start making mud bricks like it's 1999 and there's about to be a firesale on home masonry to get ready for the Y2K glitch.

Stack the bricks and let them dry in the sun. Once dried, make some mud mortar and begin making the walls for your new house, concession enclosure, negen, shower area, sheep pen, or ice hockey arena. (The thermal properties of mud bricks are truly astounding. What an R-value!) When it's time to start thinking about a roof, find some large cross beams and throw those on top of the walls. Then lay a dense latticework of two-inch diameter sticks across the beams, coating the entire ensemble thoroughly with about a foot of mud. Let dry. (If you've got some extra cash laying around you can splurge on a tin roof.)

If you're not building a new house you'll probably still be interested in doing some fix up work. You'd be surprised at how easily a house made out of sun-baked mud can come apart once it's endured a few rainy seasons. Solution: some mud and a mason's trowel. Apply a liberal coat of mud to whatever wall or roof is in need of some patch work. Then find your favorite shady spot and drink tea for the rest of the day.

Here Fishy Fishy Fish

2010-03-21T08:57:00.000-07:00

I want to start this entry out by paying tribute to those prodigal sages of wisdom... Bert and Ernie. How else would generations of Americans have learned about the necessary equipment for bath time or the most effective strategies for catching fish?

Last week I spent a few afternoons and an evening at my "site mate's" village helping to build a fish pond and soak pit. But first, to clarify, my "site mate" is in a village about 12 km from mine. She's the closest Volunteer to me, so we see each other fairly often, thus the term site mate.

The Volunteer that was at her site before her had arranged to have an Engineers Without Borders (EWB) student chapter from the University of Pittsburgh come and build a large fish pond in the village. They have visited the village a few times already, but last week was their actual implementation trip. They had an excavator and front end loader brought out from Segou to have a 120m x 30m fish pond dug in the middle of the village. It was like playing with giant toys in a giant sand box.

The point of the fish pond is to create... well... a pond to raise fish in. The village will then sell the fish at market or use it as a food source.

I'd say overall the project was a success, but there were a few snags along the way. The front end loader showed up a day late and then after a few days of work broke a large pin that prevented the machine from doing what it does best... picking up
copious amounts of soil.

Once that was fixed the translator that was working with the EWB students told us that there was a bit of a conflict in the village. Apparently the village chief and elders had approved areas of land to be dug up for the pond that other village members did not want disturbed. Fortunately this land was included in the portion of work that had been filed under "we'll get to it if we have enough time", and there didn't end up being enough time, so the land was left undisturbed. Just goes to show that community politics in Africa work the same way as they do in the US.

I ended up doing a bit of "consulting work" with the professional engineer that was with the EWB group while visiting the project and helped the group design and put together a soak pit. It ended up being a slow sand filter that drained into the fish pond, but who's really keeping track of specifics? In any case it ended up being a very "frumbling" experience.

In case you're not familiar with that term - it's a hybrid between frustrating and humbling. Frustrating because I was trying to get a bunch of unskilled village volunteers to help dig trenches, lay pipe, and move large amounts of soil and sand. They had no real concept of how the thing we were building would actually work, but still let us know that what we were doing wouldn't work. That was frustrating. So much so that after I while I just decided that everyone around me was an idiot and there was no point trying to explain anything. All I needed to do was coldly direct people to do what I wanted.

Fortunately my site mate had the presence of mind to tell me to stop being an ass-hole to her villagers and explain what was going on. This was humbling, but she was right. What's the point of doing a bunch of development work if you're not going to get the people who are using it to understand what is happening? There isn't one.

And for those would-be engineers out there... remember this fundamental truth. Water is lazy. It prefers going down hill. I'm not sure if that bit of knowledge just isn't understood as well here, or if people think they can just will the unlikely into happening, or if people are just wearing really unevenly souled shoes... but the idea of laying pipe so that water would flow though it in the desired direction took a bit of talking through.

The true test of success for this project won't come for about a year though. The water for the pond will come from the rains in a few months. There is some concern that a berm that was put in around one end of the pond will limit the amount of water that will get to it. There is also a concern about water quality. This pond will be a very tempting place for women to come wash clothes and animals to come drink. The soap from clothes washing and manure from animals could saturate the stagnant water with nutrients, which could cause algal blooms, which would result in depleted oxygen levels in the water, which would result in a poor living environment for the fishes. Only time will truly tell.

My First Project or The Most Annoying Sound Ever or How I Found the Son of a Bitch

2010-03-12T12:22:00.000-08:00

This entry is the story of my first funded PC project. Before I get too far though, I should preface with this background information... Last year in one of my grad school classes that was specifically designed to prepare for PC my professor walked into the room, turned on the projector, and put up a slide that said, "Every village has a son of a bitch. Your job is to find out who that person is.".

My first PC project is a combination of hand pump repair and soak pit construction. The hand pumps are India/Mali Mark II and are about 20 years old. I think they were put in back when the Malian government was involved in a massive pump installment campaign funded by the World Bank. There are four pumps in my village. One was broken when I arrived. One broke in January.

To paint a better picture, the hand pumps are really important for the village. Most people have a hand-dug well in their compound or nearby, but many of these wells go dry during the hot season. Also, these wells are not lined or protected from contamination, so the water from them is often not safe if not treated... which no one does here. The hand pumps go much deeper into the shallow aquifer in the area, thus providing a constant source of water throughout the year and the water at these pumps is also much safer to drink.

If you don't know what a soak pit is... its basically a big, covered hole that water drains to so that it can soak into the ground without being a nuisance to the public in the process. A lot of people do their laundry at the pumps, and there is always water spilled when people fill buckets, which results in large pools of standing water next to the pumps. The soak pits are being built to get rid of this water to help "clean up the streets". (For those of you who care, the "soak pits" for this project are actually small drain fields that use a sand backfill and perforated pipe because the soil in my area has consolidated clays and a high groundwater table.)

As I said, when I arrived in my village in September 2009 one of the pumps was already broken. When the second one broke in January 2010 the village and I decided to remedy the situation. After several meetings with key village members we came up with a plan. The village would pay to have a pump repairman come from Dioro to look at the pumps and provide an estimate of the cost for repairs. I would then write a grant proposal to PC for money to fix the pumps and buy materials for the soak pits. The village would contribute some money for the pumps and labor and materials for the soak pits.

When the pump repairman came in late January he was able to assess the situation pretty quickly. He was even able to fix the pump that had been broken since I had arrived. Turns out a $0.25 link for the pump chain was missing. The repairman fixed the problem on the spot. This is something the guy in my village that is in charge of the pumps (pump tigi) could have fixed on his own... but he didn't. I asked the repairman if he would disassemble the whole pump to make sure the actual water lifting mechanism (piston) was in good shape, but he told me that since the pump was now lifting water everything was fine. He didn't need to take everything apart.

Then, when it came time for the repairman to get paid the pump tigi told me to pay. I said that the village agreed to pay for this (meaning the pump tigi). After a bit of "back and forth" the pump tigi finally paid the repairman, but not before I was pretty annoyed.

After the repairman left I had more meetings with my village counterpart, the village chief, the pump tigi, and other key persons in the village. I laid out a plan for fixing the pumps, building the soak pits, and how we were going to pay for all of it. Everyone signed off so I went to Segou, wrote a project proposal, submitted it to PC, and waited for the funds to show up from USAID about five weeks later.

During the waiting period we had a little work to get done. The village agreed to contribute the rest of the money needed to pay for the pump repairs. They did not have the cash readily available for this. The plan was for my work counterpart and the pump tigi to go ask each household that used the pumps for money to pay for the repairs. I expected to encounter some problems with this, so for two weeks before the pump repairman was scheduled to come back I asked my counterpart if they had collected the money. At first the answer was "We'll collect it tomorrow". Then after a while the answer was "Yes"... for several days in a row.

A few days before the pump repairman was scheduled to return my counterpart told me the pump that had been fixed during the repairman's first visit was broken again. When I went to examine it, it felt as though part of the pump cylinder was broken... something the repairman did not look at during his first visit because "everything was fine". The next day I went to Segou to get the PC funds to buy pump parts and soak pit materials.

When I returned to village I discovered that some preliminary work that the pump tigi was supposed to have done before the repairman came back was not finished. This delayed the repairman's arrival by a day.

The day the repairman finally came started off well enough. It was a cloudy morning, so it stayed cool longer than usual. While waiting for the repairman to arrive I overheard my counterpart asking everyone he encountered for money to fix the pump. Obviously the money he said was on hand to pay the repairman was not, in fact, on hand. I didn't worry too much though as it has his problem for not collecting the money beforehand despite a two week barrage of interrogation by myself.

While waiting I also went all over town making sure things were ready and that all the pump parts were accounted for. (When we took the pump apart to look at it we never put it back together and stored everything at someone's house). I discovered that some important bolts were not with the rest of the parts. When I asked the pump tigi about these he told me I needed to buy new bolts. I asked where the old ones were, but got no answer. This conversation was cut short by the arrival of the repairman.

We quickly got to work and had the first pump working again in about an hour. Miraculously the pump tigi showed up with the bolts I had asked him about... I could tell that he had come from his house. My guess is he wanted to keep them for himself.

When we had finished work on the first pump I told the repairman that the pump he had previously fixed was broken again. He agreed to take a look at it, so we went across town and took it apart. We discovered that the pump cups inside the cylinder had come unscrewed (this is unusual). No parts had failed. They had just come undone.

After tightening everything up and putting everything back down the well borehole we discovered that the plunger was not going back down after being pumped. This was a problem. Solution: disassemble the entire pump for a second time, go to the exact place where we had tightened everything, and replace two rubber pump cups that were a little "stiff".

During this process the repairman had gotten grease all over his hands from the pump chain and I had to suggest to him that he wash off his hands before handling the internal parts of a pump that provides drinking water to lots of people. Some things are just not as obvious to some as they are to others.

When we had finished, the next logical step was for the village to pay the repairman (pump tigi's job). The pump tigi told me to pay. I said that the village had agreed to pay. The pump tigi told me that the village was getting all the sand needed for the soak pits and that paying the repairman was too much... that I should pay.

I had just heard the most annoying sound in the world. The sound of a man 50 years+ complaining and refusing to do what he agreed to. This may not sound like a big deal, but in a culture where most people are illiterate, your word is your contract, and this guy was breaking the terms of our deal and essentially telling me it was my fault.

After going back and forth with this (in front of the repairman) I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere and needed to seek a higher authority. We ended up at the chief's house and interrupted a meeting he was having. The pump tigi did all the talking. Parts of the conversation I didn't understand, but at first they wanted me to pay the repairman right then and the village would pay me back a few days later. I said no deal. I told my side of the story. The chief then told the pump tigi he had to pay the repairman.

It became clear to me that the pump tigi had not collected the money needed to pay the repairman and therefore was not able to pay. It was important for me not to give in at this point, so I simply sat down and chatted with the repairman while the pump tigi went door to door to collect the money.

I was annoyed and incredibly embarrassed. The pump repairman ended up having to wait for an hour to get paid. That's not cool.

Obviously, after all this transpired I was more than a little upset with the pump tigi. He had balked at every stage of the project and tried to get me to foot the bill for things twice. Later that same day he even had the nerve to tell me that the next time I went to Segou I need to buy him new sandals. He wears size 11 incidentally. Ladies and gentlemen... I have found my village's "son of a bitch".

The worst part is I know I have to work with this guy in the future. He is an important person in the village and my counterpart hangs out with him all the time. There is no way I can avoid dealing with him and because he is much older than me I can't "bust his chops" so to speak without causing more problems for myself. I talked to my counterpart about this and told him that he needs to intervene the next time something like this happens and he agreed.

But, the good news is everything worked out. The pumps got fixed. The repairman got paid. The village paid their share. I was able to show that I can't be bullied into just throwing money at the village's problems. And... I found the son of a bitch.

WAIST (introduction)

2010-03-05T11:06:00.001-08:00

I just got back to Segou after taking a two week excursion through western Africa. The purpose: WAIST (West African Invitational Softball Tournament). For those of you who have never heard of WAIST, which is basically everybody, it's an event that happens every Presidents Day weekend in Dakar, Senegal. Expatriates from all over West Africa come for a few days of softball, good food, social networking, and possibly to attend a conference. Traditionally, Peace Corps Volunteers from most West African countries participate along with several other groups that are based out of the Dakar area. Most PC countries have so many people show up that they are able to field several softball teams. PC Mali had roughly 90 people attend, with three teams participating in the tournament.

Typically PC Volunteers will remain in Senegal for a few days after WAIST is officially over in order to soak up as much of the ocean air as possible. Plus, the bus ride to Dakar is anything but a pleasant experience, so most people need a decent amount of time to recuperate before heading back home.

I'm breaking this entry up into parts, otherwise it would be enormous. This way you can get through it all in bits.

WAIST (pt 1) - Bamako

2010-03-05T11:04:00.000-08:00

The origination point for the majority of PC Mali Volunteers going to WAIST was Bamako. Since we had roughly 90 people going, we had to rent out one entire tour bus and filled half of another. This may not sound like a big deal, but when you have to cover 750 miles of poorly paved roads, cross an international border, and endure a bus without air conditioning or a lavatory, you want things to be as simple as possible. Having a chartered PC-only bus meant we could stop whenever we wanted/needed, and in theory we would get to Dakar faster because we would not be stopping along the way to try an find more passengers.

The buses were scheduled to leave at 6 am, which meant everyone needed to be at the bus station at about 5 am, which meant everyone had to come in the day before and spend the night in Bamako. Some of us decided to go to a restaurant near our new bureau called West African Fried Chicken (hole in the wall KFC of Mali) for dinner and then went around the corner for soft serve ice cream before getting a few hours of sleep. Others decided to just stay up all night, have a few drinks, and then sleep for much of the anticipated 30+ hour bus ride.

When it came time to head to the bus station, we called a taxi at 4:30 am and were on our way. Interestingly, my car got "lost" for a little bit on the way to the station. The bus company we were using was called Sonef. When our taxi came to a stop we found ourselves in front of a gas station called SNF. Needless to say our taxi driver was confused as to why we wanted to go to a gas station at 4:30 in the morning and we were confused as to why our taxi driver brought us to a "bus station" that had no buses. Nonetheless, it was a situation remedied easy enough.

WAIST (pt 2) - The Journey to Dakar

2010-03-05T11:03:00.000-08:00

I was on the PC only bus. It looked great from the outside, but the inside was not so great for one small reason. The seats had been intended for someone no taller than four feet, weighing no more than fifty-five pounds. Or so it seemed. And the seat backs were positioned at almost a ninety degree angle. Also, there were three seats on one side of the aisle, two on the other. Needless to say this bus was not the shining example of cross-contiental luxury touring. We were crammed in like sardines.

The first leg of our trek went smoothly. We made it to the bus company's station in Kayes in about eight hours. It usually takes over ten. Then our bus broke in Kayes and we had to wait two hours while repairs were being made. Of course, no one at the bus company told us this. They just pulled the bus to the side of the road, opened the hood, and started pulling pieces out.

When moving once again, it took about ninety minutes to reach the Senegal border. First we had to get our passports stamped to leave Mali, and then stamped to enter Senegal. At the border town in Senegal the bus broke down again, which delayed our journey another hour.

At this point it was starting to get dark and people were starting to think about dinner. We drove for another two hours or so before stopping in Tambacounda for food. Everyone was tired, hungry, and a little crabby from being on an uncomfortable bus all day, but still in relatively good spirits. Not for long.

***
Before going any further I should say that when traveling overland in West Africa it is advised to keep your wits about you. Always make sure you know where your valuables are. People get pick-pocketed at bus stops and there are many instances of people having stuff stolen out of their carry-on bags by other passengers after they have fallen asleep on a bus.
***

Since we had the whole bus to ourselves we let our guard down a little. When people got off the bus in Tambacounda they left valuables on the bus in plain sight. Who wouldn't? We all knew eachother. It was safe. Or so we thought.

After having been stopped for about 20 minutes something weird happened. All of a sudden about a dozen Senegalese men started sprinting down a dark alley next to one of boutiques we were stopped in front of and were yelling. Obviously this startled all the Volunteers. We quickly realized that these men were in pursuit of a thief. This could mean trouble as vigilantism is still common here.

A few minutes after the commotion started one of the bus employees started yelling at us (PCVs) while holding two backpacks from our bus. We soon discovered that while people were out using the bathroom and finding food, a thief had gone onto our bus, grabbed a few bags off seats by the door, and then took off. He dropped two bags, but got away with one. The scary part is that there were people sleeping on the bus when this happened.

Obviously this changed the mood of the evening. We had to call the police. File a report. Delay our journey another two hours.

We travelled almost non-stop for the rest of the night and got into the Dakar area the next morning about 9 am. At first the general mood was not good. The edge of Dakar is a dirty, industrial wasteland without much vegetation and a Philip Morris factory. The mood of everyone on the bus was "we spent over an entire day on a bus to come to a place that looks worse than Mali?". We didn't realize that our journey wasn't quite over.

After a few hours in really bad Dakar morning traffic we made it to the ocean side of town. Our opinion quickly changed. Tall buildings. Paved streets. Urban vegetation. Developed oceanside properties. Clean streets. Sidewalks. Piped sewers. It felt like America.

Our journey ended 28 hours after it began, at the front door of the Club Atlantique (American Club) in Dakar, where WAIST is held. We scrambled off the bus, grabbed our bags, grabbed a cold beer, changed into swimming suites, and jumped into the most beautiful pool that has ever existed.

Side note: When I took a little "rinse off shower" before going into the pool the water that swirled down the drain was brown. When it came out of the shower head it had been clear. It gets dusty out there on the open road...

WAIST (pt 3) - Dakar & WAIST

2010-03-05T11:02:00.000-08:00

The softball tournament covered three days, had a social and competitive league, and was held on four different fields all located around the Club Atlantique. All the PC teams were in the social league. Why? Because the purpose of WAIST is not only to play softball, but also to to get intoxicated while doing so. At least that's the philosophy of most Volunteers. Everyone involved, including staff at the Club Atlantique, knows this, which means everyone has a good time.

The beer was donated and sold at a reduced price. The profits go to help local non-profits in Dakar. Delicious American food including hot-dogs and Doritos were all the rave. There was even a boy scout troop selling baked goods to raise money.

PC Senegal helps arrange homestays for all the "out-of-town" Volunteers. About half the Volunteers who showed up got to stay at the homes of various expatriates. The other half were put up in two large houses a short walk from the softball fields. This was great because it meant no one had to find a hotel during WAIST.

The PC countries represented at the tournament included Senegal, Mali, and The Gambia. There was also a "refugee" team made up of Volunteers that had been evacuated from Mauritania and Guinea that are now serving in one of the other countries mentioned. A small group from Benin also came to watch.

When we weren't playing softball, people hung out at the pool or went exploring in Dakar. Several people ended up coming to the conclusion that if Dakar were a beer, it would be more like "Africa Lite" than anything else. I felt like I was in the US. Nice stores. Big buildings. Western restaurants. A fancy ice cream shop that would have no problem competing with Cold Stone in the US.

One day I went to Goree Island. It's an old colonial remnant that has a fort that used to be used in the slave trade. Very cool place. If you're ever in Dakar, go there. My last night in Dakar I went to a place called the Almadies for sea food. It's the farthest point in continental Africa. Not super-awesome, but while eating dinner the ocean swells were so large that they were washing up onto the patio of the restaurant I was at and began washing chairs and tables back out to sea. That was interesting.

The was a lot of stuff to like about Dakar. Fresh fruit stands everywhere. Clementines. Mellon. Bananas. Apples. Etc. Better organized boutiques. Decent transportation system and road conditions.

WAIST (pt 4) - The Gambia

2010-03-05T11:01:00.000-08:00

While at WAIST I stayed in one of the PC Senegal houses with about 30 other Volunteers, some of which were from The Gambia. When I mentioned that I was thinking about going to The Gambia after WAIST for a few days they mentioned that they had some extra seats open on the bus they had chartered back to Banjul. One thing led to another and a whole bunch of Mali Volunteers ended up in The Gambia for a few days, myself included.

Most Mali Volunteers ended up staying at a PC transit house in Banjul, but I was in a group of four that stayed at a Gambia Volunteer's house. It was great. She took us all over the Banjul area. We went to the beach, fish market, and an old growth forest that has wild monkeys that will come right up to you. We also went to a toga party, ate at a nice restaurant, and cooked for ourselves a few nights.

Some things to note about the Banjul area are as follows. There is one kind of beer in The Gambia: Julbrew. The supermarkets are better than those in Mali, but not as nice as Dakar. One supermarket is actually called "Safeway", but I don't think there is a connection with the US chain. Since it was colonized by the British, everything in The Gambia is in English! I had the best burger yet in West Africa in Banjul. There is a mini-mart in Banjul that the Gambian Volunteers call "Wal-Mart" because it sells all American goods. Ironically they use Wal-Mart bags, but most of the stuff they sell is actually from Aldi. Most of the touristy stuff and everything I have just mentioned are not found in Banjul, but in the area immediately to the west, called Kombo.

One of my favorite things to see was a restaurant we went to that had a balcony overlooking the fish market. It was the definition of kitsch. Not a single inch of wall space was left un-occupied. Fountains. Giant wooden sculptures. Christmas lights. Large mirrors. You could even buy a lot of what was on the walls. It put places like Applebee's to shame. None of it followed any particular theme.

The beaches were fantastic. Lots of clean sand. Warm water. Only problem was the presence of several dozen "bumpsters". These are young men in their late teens, early twenties that are essentially gigolos. They run up and down the beach and solicit the tourist women. Usually they come up and try talking to women, but sometimes they'll just stop near you and start doing push-ups or something masculine...

Our PC Gambia host liked to joke that the Volunteers unofficial motto is "PC Gambia, where change is a problem". This is meant to play off the fact that no one is ever able to make change for purchases. It's also an interesting parody off of Obama's campaign slogan... "Change we can believe in".

WAIST (pt 5) - The Return

2010-03-05T10:42:00.000-08:00

When it came time to say goodbye to The Gambia I had several days of travel ahead of me. Most of the Volunteers from Mali that went to Banjul chose to retrace their steps through most of Senegal in order to get home. The group of four that I was part of decided to go "up country" through all of The Gambia, then up through the back half of Senegal to Tambacounda where we got back on the main road to Bamako.

We set out from Banjul at 6 am with two Gambia Volunteers who were going back to their sites up country. We got on the ferry in Banjul and crossed to the north side of the Gambia River where we hired a "sept-place" (seven seater station wagon) to take us to Basse, the a main town on the eastern end of the country. We lucked out and got a really nice car. Most sept-places in West Africa have been operating about 10 years longer than is physically possible. They truly are a modern marvel.

We left the north bank relatively quickly and drove up country for about six hours to Basse. Along the way we passed through about twenty police check points, which in my point is utterly ridiculous. About 45 minutes before our final destination we had to cross back to the south bank of the river. Here the river was much narrower and the ferry much less sophisticated. So basic in fact, that we actually had to pull the ferry across the river by hand with a steel cable. The "ferry" was basically a large pontoon that could carry two cars. In Basse we had dinner and stayed the night at a PC transit house.

The next morning we were up at 7 am and in a crappy, old sept-place by 8 am. We drove for about an hour before reaching the Gambia/Senegal border. Here, again, we had to get out passport stamped to leave and enter. All the locals had their bags searched for drugs at the Senegal post. The white people were apparently carrying invisible "we don't need to be searched" cards that we weren't aware of.

(Exhibit A: A typcial sept-place)

Now in Senegal, we had to change sept-places in Velingara. We ran into a bit of trouble when the guy in charge of the car tried to charge us a huge amount of money for each of our bags and wouldn't budge on the price. Then, amazingly, an English speaking Gambian that we had never talked to before (and was in our car) came to our rescue and got in the car drivers face, laid down the law and got us a fair price for our baggage. It was sweet. Our next stop was Tambacounda. You'll remember this is where the bus had been robbed on our way to Dakar.

When we got into town we told our driver we wanted to go to the bus station that would take us to Kayes (in Mali). He didn't know where it was, so he pulled off on the main road next to a taxi and let us out. We told the taxi driver the same thing and negotiated a price. The car started taking us back the way we had come. Then it turned and we started running parallel to where we had been dropped off. Then the car turned again and we came out exactly where we had been picked up. The car went about 200 ft down the road to the exact spot where the bus had previously been robbed. The taxi driver had played us for out-of-towners. What the crap!

We tried shaming the guy by telling all the people at the shops along the road what had happened. They all just kind of shrugged... Apparently they all knew the driver. Also, we had not been dropped off at a bus station, but rather a gas station. This was somewhat troubling, but some guys said they would get a bus for us. This might sound weird, but it happens everywhere in West Africa, so we weren't worried.

The remainder of this section is scripted out, or it would be very confusing...

Us: We want a bus to Kayes.
Guys: Ok. There is a bus to Kayes in an hour or a bus direct to Bamako in five hours.
Us: We want the bus to Kayes. No, Bamako. No Kayes.
Guys: Ok. While you wait, come to our friends house. The taxi will take you there and back and only charge for the return trip.
Us: Sounds shady. No thanks. We'll eat lunch here and wait.

...a bit later.

Us: Where's the bus?
Guys: Down the road a bit. The taxi will take you. The only want one million dollars to take you a few blocks.
Us: Thanks. We'll walk.
Guys: Ok. We'll show you the way.

...walk a little bit. Arrive at someone's house.

Guys: Ok. Have a seat.
Us: Where's the bus. It's supposed to leave in ten minutes.
Guys: The ticket guy is coming. Have a seat.
Us: Where is the mother-f-ing bus?
Ticket Guy: You want tickets?
Us: Yes. But where is the bus. Its supposed to leave in less than five minutes.
Ticket Guy: It's coming. It will be here in four hours.
Us: Four hours? The bus to Kayes? It leaves now.
Ticket Guy: These are tickets for the bus to Bamako. It goes through Kayes though.
Us: We're outa here!

...walk to the main road. Guys follow us.

Guys: Come this way. The buses are over here.

...we follow, quite annoyed. We come to a bus that we had passed on our way to the random dude's house.

Us: Does this bus go to Kayes?
Bus Driver: It goes to the border. We leave in five minutes.
Us: Good enough. We'll get something else there. (We just wanted to leave Tambacounda at this point)
Bus Driver: It's 5000 CFA per person for this bus.
Us: The ticket sign next to you says it's 2500 CFA per person.
Bus Driver: Not for you.
Us: Horse apples! Cows dung! Bull shit it does!

...after much protesting.

Bus Driver: 2500 per person.
Us: That's what we thought!
Luggage Guys: It's 500 CFA per bag
First group of Guys that brought us to the bus: It's 1000 CFA per bag!
Us: It's 500 CFA for all the bags put together!!!! Gaaaah!

When we finally got on the bus we were so furious we could hardly speak. We just wanted to be moving. We kept looking out the windows to make sure our bags had actually been loaded on the bus. We had survived being ripped off by a taxi, a run-around by some dudes who just wanted to hang out with white people for an afternoon, a bus driver who tried to rip us off, luggage handlers who tried to get money out of us, and the malice of the first group of guys who tried to get the baggage price even higher in order to collect a "finders fee" for brining us to the bus in the first place.

Evidently fate had gotten wind of our good fortune from the morning in Velingara and sought to even things out in the afternoon.

We made it to Kayes that night without much more trouble, spent the night in Kayes and made it to Bamako the following evening where more fun was in store.

WAIST (pt 6) - Back in Bamako

2010-03-05T10:41:00.000-08:00

When making it down the home stretch to Bamako someone called us and said there was trouble in the city and that we should be careful when we arrived. Apparently that afternoon a sotrama (bus) driver was shot and killed at a gendarme checkpoint in the city when his vehicle was stopped and he tried to flee. This upset the other taxi and sotrama drivers in the city and they started to strike. The reason we were called is that apparently a Volunteer had been in a taxi that was stopped and he was removed from the taxi by angry demonstrators. (He was fine.) We ended up having a PC car come get us at the bus station to avoid any potential problems because it was dark when we got into town. We stayed at the PC transit house in Bamako that night.

The next morning I tried to get back to Segou with a few other people. We couldn't find taxis hardly anywhere, and the ones that did stop for us would not cross the river to the other side of town where all the bus stations to Segou are located. We went to the PC bureau to see what was going on and got some not-so-good news. We were told that no taxis were crossing the river. Most taxis and sotramas were striking to demonstrate "solidarity" for the driver that was killed. Some taxis that were striking were preventing large buses from leaving the city by blocking the roads at the edge of town. Some PC staff members had seen people throwing rocks and police using tear gas. I personally had seen a truck full of police in full riot gear with face masks, body armor, and shields the night before.

Since a decent amount of people wanted to leave the city, our safety and security officer got a PC van to take a handful of people, including myself, to the edge of town to try to find a bus leaving the city. No luck. In fact, it ended up becoming a rescue mission of sorts. Several PCVs had been near the bus stations that morning and got on buses that were eventually stopped at the edge of town by the protesters. They were stranded out there with no way to get back in town. We went and got them. One of the guys said people had stopped his bus by running alongside it, opening the luggage bays, and pulling out baggage. They almost started throwing rocks at the bus. He said he could also see char marks on the pavement where people had previously been burning things in the street. Obviously not the best situation ever.

So, we concluded that we would just have to wait out the strike in Bamako. No one knew when it would be over. I might only last a day. Might be a few. Who knew... The worst part is that it meant that we could go to the American Club, have burgers and cold sodas, go swimming, and watch movies. We were roughing it for sure. The strike ended that night and I was in Segou the next day by lunch time.

At this point I better clear up a few things for all the mothers out there who are by now pulling their hair out. Yes, there was a strike. Yes, someone died. Yes, there was civil unrest for about 36 hours. However, the incident was limited to only a few areas in Bamako and only concerned public transportation. People in private vehicles were left alone. Probably the biggest problem was that since no one was able to leave the city via public transport (what most Malians use), all the hotels filled up, so the city had a little less elbow room than usual. The areas where people were causing trouble were well known and easily avoided, so Volunteers were not in danger and the PC staff did what it could to ensure Volunteer safety. When I was in the PC car that day I went through most of the city and didn't see problems anywhere I went, but I did see a lot of extra police out, which indicated that the local government was taking steps to handle the situation. Everything is now back to normal.

Festival sur le Niger

2010-02-08T09:29:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the last day of the Segou Music Festival. It's the second largest festival in Mali after The Festival In The Desert (which traditionally happens outside Timbuktu... in the desert). It's one of the major tourist events in Mali and people come from all over the world to enjoy the sights and sounds. Fortunately for me, I call Segou my "second home" in Mali, so I've been able to experience all the festival has to offer and see the before and after effects it has on the city.

The festival is "small" by US standards, but very unique. The main stage is set up on a barge on the Niger River. There are pavilions set up for various vendors and aid groups. An exhibition hall displaying art from all over the world. Cultural exhibition tents where different ethnic groups perform dances. Beer gardens.

One of the main differences that stood out to me was the aggressive tactic adopted by the street vendors. Some have booths set up in the festival. Some walk around inside and outside the festival grounds. Some have booths set up outside the festival (so they don't have to pay a booth fee). They don't wait for you to come to them. They come to you. "My friend, you buy my postcards". "Bonjour Monsieur, you see my nice cloth". "Ttssstt. I have the marijuana. How much you buy?" (For the record, I didn't buy "the marijuana". It's illegal)

The street vendors sell all the typical stuff you think of. Wooden carvings. Drums. Earrings. Necklaces. Bracelets. Clothing. Turbans. Ridiculous inflatable animals that come from China. CDs. Sunglasses. Postcards.

There are also a host of women set up outside the festival grounds on the side of the roads selling street food. Common items include fried egg sandwiches, seasoned grilled meat sandwiches, or assorted veggies, fries, beans, etc. Conditions are less than sanitary by US standards. I ordered a grilled meat sandwich the other day. The lady took the meat which was on metal kabobs, put it on the bread, then dipped a spoon into a bowl of raw meat to get some of that tasty raw meat juice for extra flavor. Why did we bother to cook the meat again?...

Inside the actual festival ground there is plenty to see. During the day its mostly just exhibition stuff. Tribal dances. Local musicians. Food. One day there was a boat race on the river using traditional pirogues (canoes). The race was done in two heats. In the first heat two of the five boats sank during the race because the 20 or so men in each boat were paddling so furiously that they inundated their vessels with water. In the second heat there was a boat with a bunch of white foreigners. Of course their boat sank about 20 yards before the finish line. The crowd loved it.

The tribal dances were pretty neat. Lots of different masks and costumes. One group was demonstrating what appeared to be a ritual dance that men do before going out to hunt. They all had shotguns which were loaded with blanks and every now and then one of them would fire a gun in the middle of the crowd. Sure, they were using blank shells... but still, it was a little unnerving at first.

People attended the concert from all over the world. There were plenty of Malians, which I hate to say surprised me a little. I initially thought the crowd would have been composed mostly of foreigners, but actually the majority of people were nationals, which was nice to see. Of course, there were plenty of people from France, Great Britain, the US, and other parts of Europe as well. I also ran into several Peace Corps Volunteers that had made their way from Ghana and Benin. There might have been some Togo folks as well. I can't remember. There were also people from many other West African countries in attendance. This truly is an international festival, even if its not super huge in terms of attendance.

However, there were enough people in town to completely take down the telecommunications infrastructure of the city. For two or three days you couldn't make calls, send texts, or get on the web. A lot of the foreigners were freaking out thinking that something was wrong with their phone in particular. Some of the local Volunteers graciously explained that this problem was a city wide phenomenon, and not isolated to particular individuals.

The nicer restaurants and hotels in the area also changed things up a bit for the festival. Strangely, room prices went up a bit. Restaurant menus also got a lot shorter to make things easier on the cooks. My favorite place in town, lovingly referred to as "The Shack", reduced its menu down to two items. Fish or Beef. No salads. No sandwiches. When my friends and I inquired if we could order from the "regular menu" since we are regulars to this particular establishment and the cook knows us, we were greeted with a rather Seinfeldesque Soup Nazi "no soup for you" response. Clearly the goings-ons of the festival are a source of additional stress for local businessmen.

One thing I found especially interesting about the past week was the placement of one particular beer garden outside the festival grounds. There's not a lot of real estate available on the side of the roads in town, so one intrepid individual thought he would set up a beer garden in the middle of a round point intersection. The concept of having people come to the literal center of a poorly lit, busy intersection median to consume copious amounts of fermented drink seems less than wise to me. But then again, this is just one man's opinion.

In all, I would say the festival was a success. Everyone I was with seemed to have a good time and there was plenty to see and do. So in conclusion, if you happen to be in the Segou area in early February... come check out the music festival. It only costs about $US 140 for all four days for foreigners.

Some Things Are Different In Mali

2010-02-02T10:50:00.000-08:00

Here's a bunch of random thoughts/observations I've had over the past few weeks.

Hazards of Traveling to Work
I was going out to the fields the other day to help one of my neighbors harvest his rice. We rode out together in his cow cart (village version of carpooling). Now normally in the US the typical hazard associated with going to work is a car accident of some sort. Not as much so in village. No... the big risk is getting cow diarrhea all over your foot when you let your legs dangle over the front of the cart... right behind the cow... Fortunately I anticipated this risk and kept my legs up. My neighbor was not as lucky.

Garden Frustrations
Most people here do not have gardens. Why? Because the idea of a flower garden is a rather silly notion when all your time is taken up toiling away in the fields or doing other manual labor all day. Plus there are no sprinkler systems for watering plants. The village version: a rope, a bucket, and a well. Veggie gardens are an equally futile endeavor as the biological equivalent of a lawn mower, manifested in the form of a herd of goats, is ever present and devours anything in its path.

Unconventional Tourists
I rode my bike 17 km to the market recently. On the way I was stopped by a French couple in a Land Rover camper (yes, camper), trying to find their way to Djenne, a major tourist attraction in Mali that's a short 150 km from my village... straight through the bush on roads cut through fields by cow carts. A short time after the French couple I came across three white guys on motorcycles fully decked out in gear. It appeared that they were going across Mali "the back way" with motorcycles.

Utilities
Some people in village inquired about my habit of cooking for myself everyday. They wanted to know how I did this. I said I used a gas tank. Then I told them that in the US people don't buy tanks of gas... it gets piped straight into the house for cooking AND heating. They found this incredible, especially the part about heating one's house. Then I explained that water goes straight to everyone's house as well. Villagers conclusion: America is a good place.

Inflation
Today I was in Segou for the annual music festival. I was with some other PCVs and on our way into the festival grounds we bought some food from a girl near the festival entrance. After a few hours we went back to the same stand to buy the exact same food item. This time the girl's mother was there and the price had doubled... that's what I call sudden inflation. Curiously, our appetites were quelled with the adjustment in price.

Deja Vu
While at the music festival I sat down at a pavilion with a few other people for a while to soak in the atmosphere of the festival. About every 3 minutes another vendor would approach our table trying to sell something. Post cards. A shoe shine. Leather goods. Knives. Some would even come back later trying to sell the exact same stuff. I wonder if many foreigners end up buying things after the second attempt...

Advertising Strategy
My friends and I also noticed some advertisements for a particular brand of beer while at the pavilion where we were seated. There were signs plastered all over the place. They would have been impossible to avoid. We were intrigued because we had never heard of this brand of beer before, so asked if we could have some to try. Ironically they didn't sell that particular beer. They just had lots of ads for it, but sold something else.

Soap Box

2010-02-02T10:48:00.000-08:00

I already wrote this entry once, but scrapped the first draft after putting more consideration into what I wanted to say. This article isn't about Mali. It's about the US. I'm probably won't end up writing something entirely cohesive, but that's because how I feel and what I think aren't in complete agreement. Once again I find myself waffling.

I watched a documentary entitled "Food, Inc." this morning. It had the familiar message that big corporations are the devil and the system is corrupt and bla bla bla. However, it also offered some constructive criticism. I suggest watching it if you have some spare time.

The main points of the film included:
1. The American public's general lack of any understanding of where their food actually comes from or what's in it.
2. The increasing consolidation and control of the American food industry by a few large multinational conglomerates.
3. The blurring of the lines between corporations and government regulatory agencies due to personnel from each moving from one to the other.
4. The increasing impotence of government regulation on industry due to court decisions ruling in favor of corporate interests.
5. Government agriculture subsidies favoring certain major cash crops which has resulted in virtual insolvency for local farmers.
6. Corporate abuse of intellectual property rights in order to attain almost complete control of an industry, which then results in little or no competition in the market place.
7. Corporations taking advantage of and abusing immigrant workers.
8. The disparity between immigrants, companies, and the government. Corporations bring immigrant workers to the US, but it is the workers who are punished for entering the country illegally, not the companies that brought them here or employed them.
9. The food industry's insistence on combating new problems that arise with new, advanced technologies instead of simply solving the root problem. (i.e. giving cattle massive amounts of antibiotics instead of improving the diet of the animal)
10. The un-sustainable nature of a globalized food industry that is totally dependent on oil and does not promote local production or distribution of products.
11. The unfairness and ease of bringing forth a lawsuit inherent in the US legal system that essentially favors whoever is able to afford long legal battles (i.e. not small farmers or workers).
12. The poverty created in foreign countries due to US agriculture subsidies. Farmers in other countries are unable to sell their own crops in their own countries because government subsidies allow American farmers to sell their crops below production costs.
13. The fact that it is now much more expensive to eat healthy than eat poorly, which causes the poor to become unhealthy and sick, which in turn creates a whole host of problems including more poverty, reliance on government aid, healthcare issues, etc.

So what am I trying to get at here? I feel conflicted. My heart says that what we are doing is wrong. My mind wonders how we can "right" all the "wrongs" and still have things like food availability, low food costs, food variety, and the convenience that is currently enjoyed. To me it seems that in order to "right" the "wrongs" we have to adopt a more socialist attitude, but at the same time I like the independence I have with a more capitalist attitude. I guess I'm wondering if there is a way to combine the two. You know... Social capitalism. Capital socialism. Suffice it to say I don't have the answers and I'm left scratching my head wondering where the time warp portal is that will take me to that magical land of hope and wonder where everything I want is possible simultaneously.

In any case, I find myself turning to what is quickly becoming my favorite phrase: "Be the change you want to see". I'm also learning that doing this means not always taking the easy route or going with my first choice. By being the change I want to see I force myself to consider the long term future and think about where I (and everyone around me) am headed, and that has caused me to do things I might not have otherwise. Do you think you, the reader, can do the same?

If you're interested in what I've been talking about and want to learn more, or want to study the message of the "flaming liberals" in order to defeat them, check out the following documentaries:

Food, Inc. (food industry, politics, social justice)
The Future of Food (food industry, corporate greed)
Flow (water crisis)
King Corn (everything you ever wanted to know about the corn industry)
The Corporation (unsavory corporate practices/policies)
What Would Jesus Buy? (problems with American consumerism)
Roger and Me (negative affects corporations can have on communities)

TIA

2010-01-30T06:48:00.000-08:00

The phrase "this is Africa", or "TIA" is mentioned here from time to time. I find it hard to explain exactly what these three words mean, but I think that the following examples will paint a picture of the spirit of TIA. Also, keep in mind what I describe is not indicative of every single person or place on the continent. If anything, they're just funny stories that seem to recur when I'm around. Also, I can sometimes be a bit dramatic with my sarcasm...

Sports Announcers
The Africa Cup of Nations is going on in Angola at the moment. Mali participated, but was eliminated in bracket play. Naturally, when the team was playing, everyone around here was really excited and large groups could be found congregated around TVs and radios whenever there was a game being broadcast. Thanks to French colonization, all national broadcasts are done in French. However, not many people in village speak French, so the local radio station by me rebroadcasts the games in the local language, Bambara. How they do this is somewhat interesting...

There are two guys who sit in the radio booth and watch the game who speak both French and Bambara. They forward the events of the game on over the radio to listeners. There is often a lot of semi-dead air time followed by exuberant exclamations by one or both men who literally yell into the mics as loud as they can when something exciting happens. In American terms it would be like someone watching a basketball game on TV with the volume down and dictating what was happening to someone else in another room... and doing so with a lot of personal celebration included in the commentary. TIA

Water Tower
I learned the other day that some time in the future my village and the neighboring village are supposed to be getting a water tower and several distribution lines put in, courtesy of the local government. Nobody knows when, but someone already came out and drilled a borehole and installed an India-Mali pump for the time being.

As a civil engineer I'm rather intrigued by decisions that have been made thus far in this project. The borehole was put in on the north-east corner of my village in the middle of a field next to the main road that passes on the outer east side of town. Also, the other village that the future tower is supposed to serve is located south-west of my village, i.e.. on the exact opposite side of town and about 2 km beyond. Thirdly, the borehole appears to be located in one of the low spots in the area (granted, it's pretty flat overall).

Why is this interesting to me? The fact that there's currently a pump on the borehole doesn't seem to mean much as it is nowhere near any houses, so the only people getting water from it are the people using that field and passers-by on the road. Also, it would have made more sense to me to locate the borehole/tower between the two villages, thus necessitating less pipe, which translates into less cost for distribution. Lastly, it's a fairly common practice to locate water towers at locations that are "up hill", since the towers rely on gravity to do all the work. Putting one in a low spot is slightly counterproductive.

I will admit, I haven't talked to anyone who is actually responsible for this project so I do not have a full understanding of why things have been done the way that they have been thus far, and I am not aware of the exact plans for the future. However, at first glance, to me it looks like someone decided these communities should get a water distribution system and then paid a well driller to go out and poke a hole in the ground... not really giving much thought about the specifics. The reason I have this first impression is because stuff like that has happened here before. TIA

Making Change
Often in village people need change back when they buy something. This might seem like a simple endeavor, but when one or both people involved in the transaction do not have a lot of math skills this can become tricky. Sometimes there can be lengthy discussions about one's total bill and the perceived amount of money that should be returned from the larger denomination first given. These disputes are often settled by bringing in a third or sometimes fourth party to help smooth out the numbers. TIA

Unwanted Business
I was in a boutique the other day trying to buy eggs or powdered milk or something, but was unable, because the shop keeper had stepped out for a few minutes. Rather, I should say the head shop keeper. There were two other people at the boutique who "worked" there that, in my opinion, should have been able to sell me what I wanted to buy. They told me that I couldn't buy anything right now because the shop keeper wasn't around and that I should go to another shop. When I asked why they couldn't sell me stuff they simply told me to go somewhere else. This sort of thing has happened to me several times here in different places. I think it might have something to do with the previous paragraphs subject. TIA

Family Planning
Women here have a lot of kids (on average 5 or 6), and men have a lot of wives (2 or three is desirable in many places). There is a perception here that having a lot of kids is good. As a result, the head of household (typically a man) has a lot of mouths to feed. I've had conversations about this with people before and asked them if they thought that they would have more disposable income if they had fewer children. Everyone questioned pointed this out as being fairly obvious. Then I asked if people thought that many Malians are poor. Again, this was considered obviously. Then I asked why, if people recognized that having fewer children would result in few "bills", did they continue to procreate so vigorously. The responses were either a shrug of the shoulders or a reminder that having a lot of kids was a good thing. Personally, I think reducing the number of births per woman here would be a good thing on many levels... but then again, as is the case in most agrarian societies, the more hands you have harvesting the better. Right? TIA

It's Not Broke. Don't Fix It
When I first moved to my village I noticed that the water pump by my house was in disrepair and mentioned this to the people responsible for the pumps health and safety. They said that the pump wasn't "broken" and in any case there wasn't any money to fix the pump at that time. Now the pump has completely ceased to fulfill its primary purpose: to lift water.

What I didn't understand when I first got here is that things don't need to be repaired until they stop functioning in every possible capacity. Sure, when I first arrived in village the aforementioned pump had ball bearings with no balls in them, a head cover that was so warped and bent that it was allowing the pump piston to smash into the head of the cylinder, and no washers on the handle axle in order to prevent horizontal handle movement which resulted in a complete stripping of the threads on the axle... but it still produced water. So yeah, while none of those things kept the pump from producing water, they all caused more destruction of other parts of the pump, so now much of it has to be replaced or refabricated, resulting in a much, much higher repair bill than if individual parts had been taken care of when they failed.

While I have used the example of my pump here, this stuff happens all over. Garden fences, cars, motorcycles, chairs, walls of houses, well casings, generators, roads, doors, etc. It's not fixed until it's broken. Got it? I'm discovering that the concept of preventive maintenance is not well understood here. TIA

Dryer Sheets
You know how people in the US will use dryer sheets to make laundry nice and soft and fluffy and smell nice? We don't have those here. We don't even have clothes dryers. We have a precursor technology... the clothes line. And when that is not available, bushes, trees, and solar panels. Yes. Solar panels. They're great for hanging clothes on... apparently.

I have a lady down the street wash my clothes for me. She hangs them up to dry on a line in her concession (compound). It's been windy here recently. The other day she washed my clothes in late afternoon and then hung them to dry before starting to cook dinner for her family. Because her "kitchen" is upwind of the clothes line, and because everyone here cooks with wood, my latest batch of laundry had that ever-popular "just come out of the wash" smell of wood smoke. Mmmmm. Love it! But at least they're clean. TIA

F.O.R.D
As everyone knows, this stands for "fix or repair daily", or "found on roadside dead". While I've only seen one or two actual Ford vehicles in Mali, I see a lot of 25 year old Mercedes-Benzs masquerading as FORDs. An example is the minibus I take to get from Segou back to Dioro every time I return to village. When I pull up to the bus station I will typically find my bus waiting with the hood open or on a jack stand with a wheel taken off and one of the front control arms being worked on. This of course is normal and doesn't stop anyone from loading stuff onto the bus or sitting it it while it's up on a jack. I guess it's comforting to know that the bus is being fixed before we leave as opposed to in the middle of the bush where there aren't as many people around to help push. TIA

Circular Reasoning With Chickens

2010-01-27T10:13:00.001-08:00

There are many kinds of domesticated animals in Mali. Sheep. Goats. Horses. Dogs. Cats. Cows... and Chickens. There are chickens running throughout the villages of Mali, but for some reason its impossible to find chicken eggs. This has been a source of frustration for me as I enjoy eggs and they are one of the better sources of protein available, but I have to bring them in from my market town... 17 km away, because you literally can't find chicken eggs in village. You'd have more luck searching for a needle in a haystack.

I decided to ask a few questions to figure out why this is. After all, there are chickens all over the place... They have to come from somewhere. I decided to interview my language tutor. He usually has pretty succinct answers to my questions.

Q1: Why doesn't anyone in village sell eggs?
A1: People can't find the eggs. The chickens run all over and we don't know where they lay. Plus, most people want to eat chicken meat, not the eggs.

Q2: Why do people let the chickens go wherever they want?
A2: They have to look for food (i.e. trash).

Q3: Couldn't people make simple pens for the chickens? That way they could sell eggs for people who want them and fatten them up faster?
A3: Sure. But then people would have to feed the chickens.

Q4: Why don't people what to feed their chickens?
A4: They eat the trash.

Conclusion: People can't find eggs because the chickens aren't penned up. They aren't penned up because they are looking for food. They are looking for food because people don't feed them. Because people don't feed/coop up their chickens they can't find the eggs.

My point to this story is that when I point out something to people here that I think could be done better they will acknowledge that making a change would offer an opportunity... but it would mean doing things differently than they've been done in the past... and that is not going to happen. At first I was tempted to think that this proved a stereotype of the ignorance and stubbornness of people living in rural villages, but then I realized it proved a different stereotype... It proved that people everywhere are unwilling to change a situation that they have become comfortable with.

Geography is Harder-est

2010-01-27T10:12:00.000-08:00

Discussing anything physically located outside of Mali is difficult in village. Why? Because not many people here have seen a map. The idea that the world is round is still pretty groundbreaking to some folks. As a result, most villager's idea of how the world is laid out is somewhat misguided.

Here are the basics. Black people live in Africa. Arab people live in northern Africa/ the east. Mecca is to the east in Saudi Arabia. China is east. White people typically come from France, Spain, or America. Where these latter three lie out in space is a bit of a guess. Also, there is only one America. There is no Canada, United States, Mexico, or North/South America. There is only one America... and it's big and it's where all the money is. Everyone knows that.

On a few occasions, when trying to explain that "America" is made up of many countries and peoples, I've been told that those are just "regions" in "America". South America is pretty much an enigma. When I've brought up places like Brazil, Venezuela, or Columbia, people typically shake their head in an understanding manner and say "Ah yes, Brazil", which means they have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about.

Sometimes even the basics get mixed up. The Africa Cup of Nations (soccer) is going on right now and has been one of the major talking points in town. Keep in mind... this is the AFRICA Cup of Nations. The countries only come from one continent. A man of about 50 the other day asked me if Angola is next to "America". I honestly didn't know what else to say other than "No, America is not in Africa... it's over there (pointing northwest)", which of course was met with an "Ah yes, Africa".

I just want to say thank you to every teacher who has ever given a geography lesson. You have made the world a less confusing place for some of us.

Village Traffic

2010-01-20T13:08:00.000-08:00

This is a stop motion video I put together of the traffic passing by the intersection near my house. The infamous cow incident is included. Enjoy. (music by Spoon)

An IST summary

2009-12-26T02:36:00.000-08:00

December has been a bit of a blur. It seems like yesterday was November and now December is almost over. I’ve spent the last three weeks away from my site, mostly at Tubaniso for two weeks of In-Service Training (IST). The rest of the time was spent getting to the training center and relaxing for a few days in Segou after the training. Right now I’m in Segou and have every intention of spending my Boxing Day in a hotel room watching English Premiere League soccer games all day. It’s going to be awesome. But now for a summary of IST.

Unlike Pre-Service Training (PST), IST has been more focused on technical training and overviews of how PC Mali administration works. The first week of IST was just for the new Volunteers that came over with me in July. The second week also included the Malian counterparts from our respective villages. Since I’m in the Water/Sanitation sector, my technical sessions included topics such as: digging wells/ well masonry, well masonry repair, India-Mali pump repair, treadle pump irrigation, cistern construction, drip irrigation, hand washing station construction, latrine pit construction, latrine superstructure construction, and a field trip to see rainwater harvesting tanks and composting latrines.

All the training sessions were very helpful, but sometimes they could be a bit frustrating. A lot of the sessions were “hands-on activities” where we actually built the things we were talking about. The frustrating part was when our Malian counterparts were around. There is clearly an American way to do things and a Malian way to do things. In my opinion the American way is faster and better. But that also might come from the fact that the Malians were learning a lot of this stuff for the first time, whereas the Americans already understood what was going on for the most part. Something as simple as laying out a rebar grid 15 cm on center for a latrine floor slab was incredibly complicated for some reason…

During one of the days that the counterparts were around we had a bunch of booths set up to show off different kinds of income generating activities (IGAs) that could be done to help families generate more income. These included making soap, sun-drying fruit, mud-dying cloth, making shea butter, and making neem cream (natural mosquito repellent). My counterpart was really excited about everything and was scolding me for not writing everything down. He saw a lot of value in what was being demonstrated. I didn’t (sorry PC). The reason being that I am here do water/sanitation work AND come up with something in that field to do my Master’s report on. I think IGAs are a great thing if you can get them to work… but that’s the tough part. Getting them to work. Sure. I could teach people how to make soap and dry fruit and what not. What I’m not so sure I could do is find a place or a demand for people so sell their products. I’m not sure how to explain this to my counterpart. Suffice it to say, I think I am going to focus on water/sanitation stuff for now.

Lastly, I want to talk about something that has once again reminded me that I’m in Africa. A few days ago I went on a field trip to look at rainwater harvesting systems and composting latrines. Both of these systems were providing limited if any actual positive benefit. Mostly because the people using them didn’t fully understand the technology. Aid agencies just came in, dumped this stuff on a community and then left. This happens all the time over here. On the way back from the field trip our bus had to stop because there was a sheep in the middle of the road that had either been hit by a car or fallen off the top of a bus. It wasn’t dead, but it had some pretty serious head injuries. Our driver got out and pulled it off the road, and then someone in our group decided that it would be a good idea to bring the sheep back with us and cook it up for dinner. So… we ended up eating half-dead road kill that night. Friends, I’m in Africa.

Q & A

2009-12-25T09:57:00.000-08:00

This is a Q&A session that was inspired by my former high school French teacher. Apparently students in her classes are reading my blog and they came up with a bunch of questions for me. I figured that the questions and my answers would work well on this blog as well, so here they are.

1. Knowing you are making improvements for the village, how do you think the villagers will remember you like they have the other people who volunteered before you?

Based on what the villagers have told me about past Volunteers, they will probably remember whatever "quirky" behaviors I exhibit as well as any major projects I am able to finish. I am frequently reminded by the villagers that the Volunteer before me had a three-room school built for the village. I've been asked repeatedly what exactly I'll be doing. The villagers have also told me about some of the previous Volunteers habits including: keeping a flower garden, running every day, and having people from the US come visit... all of which are uncommon here.

2. What do you miss most from home? Specifically, do you miss the convenience of meals or maybe a specific food?

I miss a lot of things. Refrigeration. Electricity. Toilets. Indoor plumbing. Being here has helped me appreciate fresh fruit and veggies in an entirely new way. I also miss being able to drive... especially a motorcycle. They're everywhere here, but PC forbids Volunteers from operating motor vehicles. Probably just as well since the traffic situation here can sometimes be described as less than optimal.

3. Would you consider going to Africa again and are there some things you will change in your life when you return to the U.S.?

I wrestle with that question often. Some days I love it here. Some days I hate it. However, I find that while my frustrations remain the same I am continually finding new things to appreciate/enjoy about being here. Officially, the jury is still out. Regarding life changes, I plan to eat tons of fruits and veggies to make up for lost time. I'll also try to be more connected with the world around me because I'm realizing more and more that the way I live(d) in the US does affect people in other places.

4. Is that part of Africa safe? Have you encountered any dangers or have there been areas you have purposely avoided for that reason?

Much of West Africa is fine, but there are certain places within different countries that are best if avoided. Mali is considered to be one of the most stable democracies in Africa. With that said, Al Qaeda is active in the northern part of the country (in the Sahara). Peace Corps does not allow Volunteers in the northern half of the country for that reason and the US State Department has issued very strict travel warnings for the area for all Westerners. In the last few months there have been major incidents of terrorism/violence in Niger, Western Sahara, Mauritania, and Guinea... all of which neighbor Mali or are near by. Though, rest assured moms, Peace Corps is very aware of these situations and does everything possible to prevent Volunteers from ever getting into a dangerous situation.
Given my current location, I do not feel unsafe, but I am aware that the security situation here is not the same as in the US. The scariest things that have happened to me are almost getting run over by a cow cart and having to ride my bike down single lane dirt roads with giant semi-trucks going the other direction. A little unnerving. I also try to avoid stepping in the open sewers and have been successful so far, although some of my friends have not been so fortunate.

5. How many kids are getting a good education over there? Are most kids just running around, playing games outside, or are they in school learning?

Most kids go to either a public government school or a private Islamic school, although some parents do not send their kids to school (particularly girls). Most students make it up to sixth grade, with a smaller portion finishing high school and an even smaller portion going to college. A high school diploma here carries the same amount of weight as a college degree in the US. For example: the language tutor I have here never passed twelfth grade, but is the second highest ranking teacher at the school in my village. I would say in general, more kids in urban centers continue on to high school compared to those in villages... mostly because there aren't high schools in the villages, so students from villages are essentially going to boarding school when they reach high school.

6. How is the crime rate in Mali? Can it be scary to be there sometimes, or do you feel safe?

In terms of violent crime, I don't think it is as much of a problem as in the US. Regarding "soft crime", corruption is a big problem here. It is not uncommon for police to give people a hard time because they want a bribe, even if no crime has been committed. Theft is also a problem, but also much more of a grey area because there is a much more communal attitude towards possessions here. Pick-pocketing is common in the capital, Bamako.

7. How has this experience affected your relationship with your family? Do you think about them often?

Being away I think has brought me closer to friends and family. Having a "life line" to the US is good for mental health.

8. What's hardest for you: speaking, reading, or writing French? How do you improve yourself?

The hardest part is all three (mostly speaking). When in village I speak Bambara, so I'm only using French when in my banking town or other big city. Its difficult to keep French fresh in my mind. I've been trying to teach myself French while in village and practice speaking several times a week with a language tutor. All the teachers here speak French, so they make good tutors.

9. What are you going to miss from there when you come back home?

Probably being able to buy more rice and sauce than I am able to eat in one sitting for about 50 cents... I'll also miss the friendly, social atmosphere of village life. Everyone looks out for everyone else. People are better connected here overall.

10. Would you do this again somewhere? Another African country, or maybe a Central American one?

Don't tell anyone from Mali, but I wanted to go to Central/South America for Peace Corps, so the answer is yes, I would go somewhere else. However, I don't think I would do it "again"... at least not right away. When I finish PC I'd like to work on getting a job, a house, and 2.5 kids so I can finally become a real "American".

11. Funniest thing that's happened to you?

I'm not sure how funny this is to other people but I found it amusing... I went into my market town a few weeks ago to have a soil probe made. This is simply a long, thin steel tube with a handle on one end and a slit about the width of a finger cut along the length of the tube. You push it into the ground and when you pull it back up you can see what the soil is like. Trying to explain this to Malians was extremely difficult as I didn't have the technical vocabulary to describe what I wanted and after I drew a picture of it they still had not idea what the crazy white guy wanted to do with a steel tube that had a big chunk cut out of it. Our discussion was carried out first in Bambara, then a bit of French, and after a while a guy showed up who spoke a bit of English. Sentences were being spoken with words from all three languages. It was a mess, but I got what I wanted. It reminded me of a scene from an episode of "I Love Lucy" where they have to work out a problem in about five different languages.

12. With the Malians constantly sharing and working together, are there ever fights or disputes?

Yes. And I would say that when they do fight it tends to be much more "in your face" than American fighting. However, once people say what they have to say, things calm down and everything goes back to normal. I've never seen any adults physically fight, but kids to hit each other sometimes.

13. Is it hard to transition to the new lifestyle? What are some of the things you still just dont understand about the culture?

Yes, it has been difficult not only because a lot of the everyday comforts found in the US don't exist here, but also because there is a lot of stuff that I don't understand. I don't understand why people don't measure anything when building a house. I don't understand how little value is given to a person's time. I don't understand the logic of taxi drivers. They charge per person, not by distance traveled, so one person traveling across town costs $1, but four people in one car doing the exact same thing costs $4. I could say quite a bit here, but I'd probably just end up ranting, which isn't very becoming.

14. Was there a point where you realized that you had to let go of whatever feelings you had of maintaining your previous lifestyle?

Yes. I had to make the decision to let go of my previous lifestyle when I decided to join Peace Corps. I'm not in the US anymore and don't live in a large city here, so the realities of a Western lifestyle simply don't exist. There's no choosing. With that said, it is nice to import little parts of America to my village in the form of my Ipod, books, and care package items.

15. What do you do as far as entertainment?

My "entertainment system" consists of a 30 gb Ipod, laptop speakers, and a shortwave radio. Since there are so many aid agencies supported by foreigners here there are a lot of English radio stations broadcasting over short wave. I usually switch off between listening to the BBC, Voice of America, and Radio Canada International. I also read a lot and am making a pathetic attempt at teaching myself how to play guitar (I picked one up from a departing Volunteer).

16. How do you keep a laptop/iPod for personal use? In other words, how do you keep them charged?

First off, I keep an Ipod at site with me, and will be keeping a laptop at the PC office in my banking town (it's currently in transit from the US). To keep the Ipod going I charge it every time I'm near a computer and I also have a little device that runs on rechargeable batteries that will recharge the Ipod. I do have to ration Ipod use, so I usually listen to my radio. Some Volunteers here use portable solar panels, but so far I haven't found a reason to have one... plus, they can be problematic.

17. What were your first interactions with the natives like?

Awkward. Lots of greetings and introductions. Some joking... And a decent amount of staring as I'm the only white guy around.

18. What role does modern technology play with Africans today?

Modern technologies exist here. Cars. Motorcycles. Cell phones. Satellite TV. Computers. Refrigerators. This stuff is much more prevalent in cities, where there is electricity. In my village there are quite a few men who have motorcycles and cell phones and a small handful of people who have TVs. There is even one guy with a satellite dish. In village most electronics are run off car batteries which are charged every night by a gas generator that is kept at the butiki (corner shop) in town. People use modern technology when they can afford it, but a lot of people have a difficult time affording to feed their families, so technology usually gets the back seat. This is an agrarian society for the most part, so everyone farms. Almost all farm work is still done by hand with a hoe and a plow that is pulled by cows. Tractors or mechanized farming equipment of any kind is a rarity.

19. You spoke of a volunteer who suddenly left because the cultural shock was too much. How was the change for you?

The change was hard, but less difficult than the first time I was out of the US (in Bangladesh). The thing that bothered me the most (and still does) was how people get your attention here. If they don't yell "hey" outright they will make a "tsst" sound that to Americans is considered very annoying/offensive. I was also bothered by the scoldings I would get from people for not "greeting" them every time I saw them.

20. What is(are) the best age(s) to enter into the Peace Corps?

All ages are good. People coming right out of college are great because they have a lot of energy. People who have been working for a while and do PC as an older person are good because they bring experience and wisdom that young people don't have.

21. Do you feel pressure knowing that you are there to help the people? Do you feel like you need live up to previous Volunteers who have been there?

Yes. People at my site are always telling me good things about the previous Volunteers. I'm always worried that I need to live up to expectations set by the people that were here before me. Sometimes I find myself doing things that I don't want to do in order to build good relationships with people in town.

22. Did you have to learn the language just by living with the people or did someone teach you while you were there?

My first two months in Mali were made up of what Peace Corps calls "pre service training". I lived in a homestay village (not the place I live now) with several other new Volunteers as a way to become integrated with the culture. Peace Corps had a Malian stay there as well that spoke English and every day we had language class for seven hours. Since then I've been working with one of the teachers in my village to help me learn more. I am speaking mostly Bambara here, but we use French as an intermediate language because my tutor doesn't speak English. My French is still pretty shaky, but I have a French/English dictionary so we're able to make things work very slowly. I learn new words and phrases every day.

23. Do you really stop at every persons house on the way home to say good night?

No. I would have to say good night to about 3,000 people if I did that. But greeting is a very important part of the culture here. Every morning I greet my work counterpart, the shop keeper down the street (I eat dinner at his place every night), and the village chief. I do the same thing at night. I also have to go through this process with just about everyone that I encounter on the short walk between each of these people's houses.

24. Was is difficult to pick up a tribal language along with French and English? What is your favorite word in the tribal language that you have learned?

As I said, I speak mostly Bambara here. It's not a tribal language. It's spoken extensively in Mali and in neighboring countries. Its easy and difficult to learn this language. The grammatical structure is very simple, but all the words have about 37 different meanings depending on how you pronounce them and by what context they are used in. My favorite word in Bambara is "ka jigi", which means "to get down". For example, if you're riding on a bus and want to get off you would say "N ba fe ka jigi" which literally means "I want to get down". It reminds me of the Will Smith song from a while back "Gettin Jiggy With It".

25. Do they respect you there, or do the villagers see you as an outsider and just another "rich American" ?

Yes and yes. I am given a ton of respect here. I'm usually the first one served at meal times. I am always given a chair to sit in (chairs are not common in village). People go out of their way to help me out when I need something. But, since I'm white I obviously have a lot of money. Right? Never mind the fact that I don't get a wage for being here and I'm up to my eyeballs in debt from college... People are always telling me to give them my stuff. They do it jokingly, but it does get annoying after a while. When people say stuff like this I always ask what I will do after I give them whatever they asked for and they simply reply that I will buy a new one because I have lots of money. The underlying implication being that I have money because I'm a white American.

26. Was the change over difficult? (coming from materialistic America, to Mali)

Kind of. When you want something there is usually only one or two options available at the store... if you can even find what you are looking for. I've gotten so used to this after being here for five months that now when I go into some of the nicer western supermarkets in Bamako I literally can't make up my mind when there's more than two types of cookies to choose from. The idea of having several options is overwhelming.

27. What has been the most significant difference between Mali and the United States? How long did it take you to adjust?

I've been struggling to put my finger on the answer to that question ever since I got here and I still don't think I have a good one. I'm working on it though. It took me probably three months to get really comfortable with my situation here, but I'm still making adjustments every day.

Windows Into a Different Culture

2009-12-04T17:27:00.000-08:00

This video is a few sections of the prayer ceremony during Tabaski (Seliba). The whole ceremony (which included the slaughtering of a ram) lasted about 20 minutes. I think the video gives a pretty good idea of what it means to pray as a Muslim.

This video captures a "discussion" between relatives on the second day of the Tabaski celebration. We had just finished eating and people were serving cafe', which is a special treat here. I'm not sure what the dispute is over exactly, but I think it had to do with either how much beverage certain people were getting or in what order certain people were served. I think the video shows a good example of what most Malian arguments are like. It appears to be a lot more serious that it really is. Notice too, that the people who are initially speaking leave after they have said what they need to say and after a mediator steps in. And then the mediator is the one who starts yelling. It's like the argument is transferable. Also notice that while there are always a few people yelling at eachother, all the others are coming and going and laughing/smiling at the people arguing. This is a sign that what seems like a heated argument from a Western perspective, is nothing serious at all.

Festival of Sacrifice

2009-12-04T15:36:00.001-08:00

...also known as Eid al-Adha, Tabaski, or in Bambara: Seliba. The Festival of Sacrifice is a Muslim celebration of the remembrance of the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac to God (also found in the Bible). This is a rather big celebration in the Muslim world and carries the same kind of weight Christmas does in the Christian world. The Festival lasts three days and almost everyone takes the days off from doing work.

On the first day everyone gathers for a prayer service in the morning, and at the end a ram is slaughtered by the imam in front of the entire assembly. After the ceremony, every family returns to their own household, where the male heads of the household slaughter their own ram and whatever number of male goats are required to provide enough meat for the family for eating during the next two days and as gifts for friends. My estimation is that on the first day of Seliba, at least 200 rams and probably another 300 or so male goats met their end all within about an hour of eachother just in my village alone.

The animals are slaughtered, the meat washed and portioned, and then the men immediately start grilling the choicest portions for consumption. After a first round of meat everyone switches gears and eats a lunch typically of rice and sauce. Then you go back to grilling meat. At this time groups of kids from other families start to show up and present special Seliba greetings (not unlike Christmas caroling), for which they are usually given portions of uncooked meat to take back to their families. Groups of women will also go around and provide special greetings, for which the customary gift is a small amount of money. The remainder of the day is spend hanging out and socializing.

On the second day the family again gathers in the morning for a large meal, and then a round of cafe`. The rest of the day is spent socializing. At about 4 pm all the young men in village bring out their (or their dad's) motorcycles and proceed to zoom through the village in a loop at incredibly irresponsible speeds. Any number of imaginable positions are assumed for riding in order to impress the crowds that come out to watch. Mothers keep their toddlers from being run over. Men clap and cheer for wheelies. There is even a small parade where men stand in the back of a cow cart and throw little candies. The cows are draped in the most elaborate, oversized prayer mats. There are also a few young men dressed up in ridiculous outfits riding donkeys with guns strapped to their backs. The donkeys get startled by the motorcycles racing past them on crowded, narrow streets. At some point a yound motorcycle driver will misjudge the stability of the sand he is driving on and lightly run into a wall for several feet, before gently crashing, picking up his motorcycle and his dignity, and then continuing on. The general cheer is so great that when a motorcycle eventually does run into a small child, allegedly breaking the kid's arm, the mood isn't spoiled. The parents simply make a splint for the arm out of pieces of wood and some cloth. No doctor or pain meds needed as this is Seliba and the doctor isn't in town anyway (he's back home in another village celebrating with his family). Day three is a repeat of day two.

Everyone has special clothes made out of expensive fabrics. The women and girls have their feet dyed with something like henna and their hair done up with only the best fake hair extensions money can buy. Make-up can even be spotted.

It truely was an amazing experience.

Harvesting Millet

2009-12-04T14:46:00.000-08:00

In the Midwest corn and soy beans are a big deal. I’ve now transitioned to a different agriculture setting where millet and rice are all the rave. The harvest season is in full swing at the moment, with millet being the first of the two crops to come in. For those of you who don’t know what millet is, it’s a plant that’s in the same family as corn (I believe), and is probably most commonly found in bird feed in the US. Here’s what it looks like…

I thought it would be fitting to describe the process by which millet is harvested. I’m somewhat amused with some aspects and I think it sheds light on certain intricacies of the culture here.

Step 1: Knock the millet stalks down into rows.

Step 2: Use a small hand blade to cut the heads off the stalks (where the grain is)

Step 3: Bundle and bind the stalks together to be used as animal fodder during the hot season when nothing grows anywhere.

Step 4: Take the heads to a threshing floor where the millet will be removed from the heads

Step 5: Call in a large truck (think dump truck) to drive in circles over the heads to accomplish said threshing (in this situation the truck is referred to as a “millet grinding machine”, not a “dump truck” as its German Mercedes-Benz mechanical engineers would have envisioned).

Step 6: Gather the grain into 100 kg (220 lb) sacks, which are then carried by a single man to a cow cart, hauled into town, and then again carried by a single man from the cart to the farmers house or grain silo (made out of mud of course).

Step 7a: If the farmer has a silo, first place a tarp on the ground and then dump the millet out of the sacks onto the tarp. Remove the straw roof from the silo. Then take large bowls, fill them with millet, and hand them to someone standing on an old oil drum (acting as a step ladder) who dumps the millet into the grain silo.

Step 7b: When the silo looks like it’s about to be full but you still have 10 or 15 sacks left remaining to be stored, continue to empty them out onto the tarp. Then take a ten minute rest, eat some spicy peanut butter and millet flour balls, and put all the millet you just dumped out back into the sacks they arrived in and carry the sacks into the house adjacent to the tarp. For this two people are allowed to carry one sack.

Step 8: The following day, gather straw and a bucket of water. Lay the straw over the millet at the top of the silo. Use the water and a hand hoe to make mud and then spread the mud over the straw. This will create that precious “freshness seal” that’s all the rave these days. (If you’re wondering how you get the millet out, there’s a door in the wall towards the top for later access.)

Step 9: Put the roof back on the silo.

(millet photos taken from : womensnutritiontips.com & merliannews.com)

One Man, Multiple Disasters

2009-11-25T03:36:00.000-08:00

We've had a bit of a shake up in town the past few days, and it's affected my local shop keeper (Madu) most of all.

The first unfortunate event involved Madu's prize winning ram (male sheep) and a 100 kg sack of millet. Apparently one afternoon the ram decided he'd take a little stroll across the street and have a mid-afternoon snack from one of the millet sacks in a storage shed. Sadly, the ram knew not his own hunger and fell over dead the next morning. Apparently if sheep or goats eat too much millet it can kill them. This is a well understood phenomenon here. The thing that makes this a big deal is that rams are really valuable here. And big ones are really, really valuable. Madu's ram was one of these. Apparently it was worth at least 50,000 CFA, which is enough to buy a donkey cart. In village terms, this was a serious investment that went totally bad.

The second thing worth noting happened the day after the death of the sheep and involved quite a few more people and created a much bigger scene. I was sitting under the big tree next to the boutique like I do most afternoons, and had oddly enough chosen this particular day to try to put together a photo montage of the "running of the bas". I was sitting in a chair next to the road with a few other people when a passing cow cart decided to break up the general tempo of the day. As it was passing me, the driver decided to whip one of the cows, who chose to suddenly veer right towards me. Since the cart was moving somewhat quickly, the cows couldn't stop when they realized they were heading straight for a wall, several people, some chairs, a sack of sugar, and a motorcycle. The cart ended up doing a 180 degree turn, running over a chair and the motorcycle in the process. I had to get up and jump over the wall the avoid an intimate situation involving cow horns that I wasn't keen on experiencing.

When I got up from toppling over the wall there was a chair and motorcycle under the cart, people were gathering around and yelling (of course), and the driver of the cart was about 100 feet down the road, laying on the ground... either examining several people's flip flops or getting kicked. It was hard to tell. There was a lot of dust.

The motorcycle and chair belonged to Madu and were severely damaged. Apparently he was fortunate enough to also get to pay for their repairs... not the cow cart driver. Madu's salidaga (water pitcher thing) was also done-zo. I mentioned to someone next to me that I thought cows were bad and pointed out that the salidaga had "died". People thought this was hilarious, so now every time people see me at the boutique they tell me cows are bad. I respond by asking for a knife so I can go cut cow throats. Best joke in town right now.

I also happened to be feeling somewhat ill during the timeframe of these events. I guess they say bad things come in threes... (I feel better now, btw).

I blame this stuff on the fact that the dugutigi (chief) was out of town at the time. He was in Bamako, seeing someone off on their pilgrimage to Mecca I believe. It just goes to show - when the dugutigi isn't around to run his village, everything goes to hell.

Thankfulness

2009-11-12T08:24:00.000-08:00

I've begun doing my "baseline survey" for my village. This involves going to all the households in the village (about 150 to 200 I've been told) and asking a series of questions I've made. One very vague question I've been asking is "What problems are in the village and how can people fix them?".

While there have been some variation in answers, so far there has been a common theme from almost everyone I've talked to thus far. First, they all laugh and say there is no money (even though people can afford cell phones, motorcycles, and radios). Second, they say there is a lack of food.

While I am still getting hung up on the no money thing, I find the no food answer to be even more interesting. Why? Because everyone in this village is a subsistence farmer in some capacity. Every person in the village dedicates at least some time to the production of food. I haven't finished my survey, but I'd say 90% of the village men would call themselves outright farmers. How then, could there be a lack of food?

This is something I can begin to explain, but cannot completely comprehend as the phenomenon doesn't really exist in the US anymore. Sure, there are years of drought and years where crops go bad, but have you ever gone to the pantry or fridge and been hit with the reality that there is no food? Not because you couldn't afford to go to the store and buy some, but because all the food in town simply ran out.

Maybe it's just coincidence, but I find it rather interesting that I am having this revelation shortly before Thanksgiving. I've always understood what Thanksgiving is about, but I've come to realize that I wasn't totally aware of what I was thankful for. There is so much more meaning now that I'm living in a place where having enough to eat is a daily concern. People here tell me everyday how much better America is than this place and the sad part is they don't even know half of what's really available in the US. I truly am thankful and hope that as Thanksgiving approaches, you who are reading this, will also find some new understanding of what it means to be thankful for what you have.

Narrating How to Build a Hangar (patio awning) for Your House

2009-11-12T08:21:00.000-08:00

Step Zero

Enlist your village counterpart to help you out as he's walked the Earth for 50 plus years and has built quite a few of these over the years.

Step One

You purchase the necessary materials. These include long and slender logs to be used as support poles and cross beams for the actual “roof”, which consists of weaved grass mats, and string to hold the mats to the beams. The columns need to form a “y” on one end to hold up the beams.

Step Two

You gather tools. These include an axe for trimming logs and an iron rod that is flatted like a screw driver at one end to serve as a post digger.

Step Three

You begin building. It is essential that you do not do the following before actually beginning construction: a. measure the mats to figure out the best configuration and workable dimensions, b. use information from “a” to determine appropriate spacing of posts and beams. You will figure this all out as you go.

Step Four

After you begin setting posts you realize you didn’t get enough, so you go get more. Once all posts are established you spend several hours putting up and taking down various beams until they fit together in a cohesive fashion. Remember, you are working with logs that are essentially tree trunks with the branches chopped off. No two are alike and you are forbidden from making them all a uniform length to help ease the process of construction.

Step Five

You put on the roof matting. The job will have to remain incomplete, however, as your forethought to NOT measure anything in advance has necessitated that you go back to the market town next weekend to purchase more matting as you made the frame too big for what you initially purchased.

Step Six

Enjoy your mostly competed hangar for a few days until you can head back to market and get supplies to finish the job.

Fable (motivated by true events)

2009-11-12T02:20:00.000-08:00

This is a slightly embellished recounting of events that took place on 7 November, 2009.

I was sleeping outside, on the patio in front of my house in my bug net tent, as is my usual custom, when at roughly 1:30 am I was awoken from a pleasant sleep. The impetus for this nocturnal disturbance was a dog several houses down making known his situation at the time. Since I’m quickly becoming a seasoned linguist (currently speaking English and learning Bambara, French, and old man gibberish), I was able to make out that the dog somewhere in the distance was saying “Hey, hey… hey”, which as anyone who understands the universal dog tongue can tell you is slang for “I found something I deem interesting enough for everyone to know about!”.

The dog was referring to the night sky. The moon was especially bright. It was as if night was simply a black cloth spread over the entirety of the daylight heavens, with all the stars being minute gaps between woven threads and the moon being an exceptionally pronounced hole that was letting the sun through with all it’s fury. It was almost as if a dim version of daytime had descended. I could understand why the dog might be concerned by this as there is undoubtedly a proper time for both night and day.

However, after a few shouts from dog number one, a second dog joined in, officially making it a canine conversation. Again, given my newfound abilities as a linguist I was able to determine that dog number two was offering some reassurance to dog number one that the night was functioning properly and that what he was experiencing was simply an evening of exceptionally intense solar radiation in the form of lunar illumination. Dog number two then added that he had found something interesting as well, due mostly to the exceptionally bright moon. A cat.

After a brief exchange the two dogs decided it was best to do some further investigating into the exact whereabouts and activities of said cat… who up until this point had chosen to remain silent in hopes that dog number two had mistaken her exact position.

When it became clear to the cat that dog number two was no fool, and after realizing that things were becoming more dire for herself every moment, the cat decided to break silence and said in the most forceful and shrill British manner cat is capable of, “I wish to make my sentiments fully known in the most animated language possible. Proceed one step closer and I shall raise up a most unwelcome ruckus for you, my unwelcome pursuers!”, which in American English roughly translates to “Get the hell away from me, you dogs!”. (What a cat with a British accent was doing in a village in the middle of rice fields in Mali is beyond me, but I swear it’s true.) Unfortunately the cat didn’t realize her own vocal capabilities and ended up creating a ruckus anyway.

Apparently there was a rooster not too far off who turned out to be a rather light sleeper for a rooster, and until this point had been in sound slumber. The outcry from the cat brought the rooster abruptly out of its deeply lucid attitude, and in his startled state discovered that is was fairly light out. Thinking he had overslept, the rooster quickly made fast his roosterly duty and took a deep breath, stretched his neck forward, cocked his head to one side, and bellowed “Wake up everyone!” and then continued to do so as it appeared that all his fellow roosters had also been sleeping on the job.

All the other roosters in village, being a tight knit group, awoke quickly and joined in with the wakeup call. Soon the whole village was aware that morning had unexpectedly arrived at 1:30 am instead of the usual 6 am.

The quickly assembled wakeup call soon had the rest of the dog community going. Conversing about the continuing rooster call, the dogs conducted a surprisingly well organized discussion in which dogs number one and two informed the rest of the group regarding the situation with the moon and the cat and the probable cause of the rooster rambling. The dogs then inquired as to whether the cat, who was in their opinion responsible for the whole mess, had been apprehended. Then as a unified group, attempted to explain to the misinformed roosters what was really going on.

Despite the fact that West African roosters don’t speak West African dog, it didn’t take long for them realize that the dogs knew something they didn’t. Apparently one of the roosters then took the time to examine the sky more carefully and realized that the stars were indeed poking through the blanket of night. Once the roosters were of one mind apologies were meekly uttered and everyone settled back in to repeat the drill several hours later at the appropriate time. No one is sure where the cat ended up… probably for the best.

Bike Ride Sampler

2009-11-03T01:09:00.000-08:00

This is a compilation of scenes from a bike ride I took in the area surrounding my village. It starts in on a road that is basically a dike between two rice fields, then moves into millet fields, back to another dike, into the village neighboring mine, then back to more millet fields, finally finishing up with my own village and the road to my house.

Along the way you see several interesting things including: rice fields, millet fields, irrigation control structures (dikes and flood gates), mud brick houses, carts being pulled by donkeys and cattle, kids playing with old bike tires, animals being herded, and the village "town hall" right at the end (it's under the giant tree).

A Mali Cuisine Review

2009-11-02T16:10:00.000-08:00

I've never read an article on food before, but here's my attempt to be food critic. Village cuisine in

Mali

revolves around a few major themes: thing from the field, things from the garden, and things from around town.

Things from the field include:
rice, millet, peanuts, beans, corn, mangos, oranges, watermelons, onions, potatoes.

Things from the garden include:
okra, tomatoes, green bell peppers, hot peppers, cucumbers, papaya, sweet potato, cassava, lettuce, melon, and garlic.

Things from around town include:
chicken, goat, sheep, cow, fish, eggs, pasta, seasonings, sugar, powdered milk

The food scene in

Mali

has both a good and bad side - two seemingly opposing forces fighting for purposes good or evil. The raw foods listed above are typically combined to make different dishes.

Mali

is a mono "dish" culture, so unlike the

where you eat several different things during a meal, in

Mali

the meal is one thing.

Forces Fighting for Good

Rice and Sauce
Universally likes by all. Typically consists of copious amounts of steaming hot rice, which is smothered in one of several sauces. The most common sauces use peanuts or onions as a base ingredient, but sometimes something related to soy sauce will make an appearance. All are made from scratch.

Pasta
...Can be found in two manifestations: spaghetti or macaroni. The proper nomenclature for both in

Mali

is "macaroni". No tomato sauce required. All that is needed for an excellent dining experience is a cube or two of the universal Malian seasoning "Maggi". Maggi is essentially a bullion cube style powder.

Hard Boiled Eggs
Usually seasoned with Maggi and added to a plate of "macaroni". A special treat in village.

Cucumber, Bread, & Dressing
This dish appears rarely in the average cook's weekly repertoire, but is a welcome change from routine. Preparation includes first peeling several cucumbers, then slicing them in half, and then slicing the halves into quarter inch thick semi-circles. These are put into a bowl and then liberally covered in a vinaigrette dressing consisting of vinegar, peanut oil, and possibly some salt. To consume, take a small piece of break and pinch it around several pieces of cucumber and enjoy.

Beans
Similar to pinto beans, but not made into a paste as done in the Mexican kitchen. Cooked several hours until soft, a little peanut oil is then added.

Sweet Potato Fries
Exactly when they sound like, only the sweet potatoes here are white, not orangey.

Corn on the Cob
It's not sweet corn and it doesn't come with salt or butter... but it's delicious. After being husked, the cobs are put directly onto hot coals. Then the kernels start browning it's time to eat. Corn on the cob is more of a snack food and not very common where I'm at.

Peanuts
Fresh. Roasted. Shelled. Salted. Combinations of these. There are several ways to enjoy

Mali

's favorite legume. Eaten as a stand alone snack, with tea, or in peanut sauces.

Millet Couscous
Tastes almost exactly like couscous made from wheat. Usually flavored with peanut oil, peanut sauce, or onion sauce.

Fried Dough
Known as "gato", this is a simple dough made of flour and water which is then fried in a pot of peanut or shea oil. Sprinkle some sugar on top and you're all set. Who needs Krispy Kreme?

Mini Crumpets
It's called ngomi ("n-go-mee"). Essentially this is a mini pancake that behaves like an untoasted crumpet. They're cooked in oil, but not fried. A great breakfast food.

Forces Fighting for Evil

Sardines, Bread, & Dressing
Not a sandwich. Sardines and vinaigrette dressing are in a bowl and then scooped up with bits of bread in the same manner as the cucumber dish mentioned earlier.

Moni ("mo-nee")
This is a type of porridge typically eaten for breakfast. It consists of millet flour made into balls the size of small peas which are suspended in a solution of millet flour, water, and sugar. Much of the time milk is included, but the milk is sour. Consuming this concoction is like drinking something chunky with the viscosity of lite syrup... and it tastes terrible thanks to the sour milk.

Siri ("see-ree")
It's rice porridge made out of rice, sugar, and milk. It would be great if it wasn't for the fact that once again, the milk is sour.

Bread and Mayonnaise
A breakfast food. I won't even begin to describe my feelings regarding this culinary abomination.

To (as in "dough")
Typically made from millet (but also can be from corn or rice). It has the consistency of Play-Doh or cold Malt-O-Meal (when hot). Eaters typically grab a sticky handful and then dip it into a bowl of either okra or fish sauce. Each sauce is equally undesirable, not to mention that the To itself is like eating a tasteless, sticky something. The okra sauce is lovingly referred to by English speakers here as "snot sauce", given its color and consistency. The only thing worse than freshly prepared To is day-old To that is reserved after it's had some time solidify further and contemplate its existence overnight before meeting a final destination.

Meat
Meat is actually on neutral ground as it can be good or bad depending on how it's prepared, what part of the animal it came from, and how old the animal was when slaughtered. Goat is the most common meat in village, followed by sheep, cow, and finally chicken. The reason for this being that since there is no refrigeration, any animal slaughtered has to be consumed that day or the meat spoils. Goat works perfectly because there's enough meat for a family and a little left over to sell. Sheep and cows are bigger animals, so they are typically reserved for large feasts. Chickens just aren't very common in village and thus are eaten with little frequency. I should also point out that eating meat in general is not very common and considered a special treat.

A Transport Story

2009-10-18T04:24:00.000-07:00

This is the story of an experience I had trying to get back to my village about two weeks ago. I should begin by explaining the method of motorized transport in rural Mali. It’s referred to as a bashé… essentially a large van (15 passenger equivalent in US)… only they usually seat 20 to 25 people. Each seat has been sized for about 75% of the average person’s posterior and seats are arranged in rows of five across. It’s a hot, crowded, dusty experience. Some of the really old bashés only have seats around the walls of the vehicle as the center is used to carry cargo… anything from giant rice sacks to baskets of fresh fish, to sacks of fresh animal skins. There are openings on the sides of the bashés, but usualy no window glass.

I got to the bashé gare (bus depot) in Segou shortly after 11 am. I found the bashé I needed to take and immediately had my doubts. It was by far the worst looking bashé I have seen thus far in Mali. Upon approaching the section of gare it was located in I thought to myself, “I hope I’m not on that bashé”. But it was the only vehicle going my way, so I paid the fee and waited for the bashé to leave… something that could potentially take hours as there is no set departure times for anything here.

About 20 minutes later we were moving… but rather slowly. Shortly after departure we stopped at a gas station and waited for more passengers for another half hour. Once we finally got moving again and out of town I thought things would be smooth sailing the rest of the way… the problems were only just beginning.

For starters, the bashé was basically a steel box on wheels. Whatever suspension was intended for the vehicle was no longer present. This became painfully obvious when we left the paved road and began our 60 km treck across the worst road in the world.

Why is the road so bad? It’s a dirt road slightly sloped above the existing terrain. The road receives heavy traffic on a daily basis, and because of the rainy season, the road is heavily rutted is most areas and partially washed out in others. The combination of bad road and lack of suspension meant a bone-jarring ride for two hours.

To avoid the perils of the road, however, many drivers choose to drive next to the road, where the ground is flatter and free of pot holes in most places. However, in some places the actual road is better, so the driver of my bashé was constantly criss-crossing between the road and the “shoulder”. Doing so added a particular zest to the ride as the bashé went up or down a noticeable incline every time the switch was made. The sensation this produced was as if the bashé was going to tip over…

The icing on the cake was that the roof of the bashé directly above me was extremely rusty. This meant every time we hit a bump (roughly every 30 seconds) small pieces of bashé came raining down on my head. The cherry on top of the icing was that this bashé had a particularly fussy engine. Once we got off the paved road we were stopping every few kilometers to add water, tighten something down, or clean out some hose. It appeared to me that the main problem must have been a horribly deteriorated head gasket and or crack in the engine block. The engine was constantly losing power (probably lack of compression because of bad gasket) and we were laying down a white smoke screen and frequently backfiring.

About halfway down the dirt road we apparently ran out of gas, so the driver left us in the middle of the road and walked back to the last town we passed through to get more fuel. (I think it’s also worth mentioning that the “gas” can up until that point was being used as a water jug, so the driver just emptied it out and went to fill it up with fuel. Water is the fuel tank anyone?) Once we got gas the engine was still acting up and didn’t have enough power to get us up the slightest incline, so we had to get out and push start the bashé – “Little Miss Sunshine” style.

The straw that broke the bashé’s back came about 3 km from our final destination. The bashé broke down for probably the 15th time, but rather than do any repairs, the driver just told everyone to get out and walk the rest of the way. Besides – it was time for afternoon prayer, so after unloading my stuff the driver got out his prayer mat and did his thing right there in the middle of the road.

It ended up taking over five hours to accomplish what would normally be done in two and a half… and we didn’t even get all the way there.

100 Days +

2009-10-18T04:22:00.000-07:00

I’ve officially passed the 100 day mark. It’s funny. It doesn’t seem that long. I’m finding what most Volunteers say about time to be absolutely true… days drag on forever, but weeks and months seem to fly by.

A Day in the Life

Now that I’m settled in I thought it would be a good idea to explain what a typical day is like for me. The way I explain this is going to seem very much like I live by a very regimented schedule, but I assure you, it is widely and often deviated from due to the “tell people about things at the last minute possible” style of scheduling that exists in village culture.

My day usually starts at 5 am with a 30 + minute call to prayer from the mosque directly behind my house. It’s still dark out, so I usually don’t have any trouble falling back asleep until I get up for good no later than 6:30, but sometimes the steady “kluck-kluck-kluck” of the generator for the mosque doesn’t shut off right away and keeps me distracted from sleep for a while. Once awake, step one is to put away my sleeping mat, bug net tent, and other bedroom accessories that migrate outdoors with me every evening. It’s too hot to sleep inside my house, so I sleep outside in what I’m convinced is God’s gift to humanity… the bug net tent. It’s truly a testament to human ingenuity, know-how, and man’s sheer desire to hold insects everywhere at bay.

(Note to future PCVs… bring a bug net tent. Don’t think about how much is costs – just bring one. I didn’t, and was fortunate enough to get one from another Volunteer who was finishing her service… but not everyone can be so lucky.)

After getting my “bedroom” back indoors, it’s time for a shower outdoors… in the negen. After washing the night off it’s time for a breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal and only the finest gourmet Brazilian instant coffee and powdered milk. Instead of reading the paper or checking my stocks, I tune into the BBC World Service for an hour while I eat and straighten up the house from the previous night’s intense reading sessions by kerosene lamp light. Whatever sustenance I gain from eating breakfast is somehow magically doubled in potency with the accompaniment of the BBC. Keep up the good work BBC. VOA (Voice of America)… first of all, where are you most of the time, and when you do show up… why aren’t you as good as the BBC?

With my morning rituals now complete I head down to the butiki to greet the butikitigi (shopkeeper), Madu, and whatever other gentlemen happening to be around, and then head around the corner to greet the dugutigi (chief). With greetings now taken care of, it’s time to hike out to the women’s garden with a rope and bucket and draw water from one of the wells in the garden to keep my precious green beans and chives alive. The rest of the morning is usually spent sitting in a chair under a big tree next to the butiki and simply waiting for lunch time to arrive. I distract myself during the waiting period by studying language, reading, or journaling.

Lunchtime is a very delicate operation and usually requires at least two hours to be done properly. First, lunch is prepared on my gas stove. It’s basically a three-burner Coleman-style camp stove, only the gas tank is the size of gas tanks for grills in the US. I eat macaroni noodles everyday with varying seasonings. (A really good day is a combo of tomato paste and Italian seasoning.) Some small dessert usually follows. I masticate with the soothing voices that can only be found on the BBC. After such an intense activity as cooking and THEN eating, I’m tired, so I take a nap.

The afternoon includes more sitting in a chair under a tree, and then towards evening it’s time to head back out to the garden to water my plants some more. Watering now completed, it’s time for a run and a trip to the pump to get more water for drinking, bathing and cooking. Early evening is spent cooling off from the run, bathing, and then doing some reading before going to have dinner at the butiki with Madu. Following dinner, it’s back to the dugutigi’s to say good night and then short stops to all the neighbors houses on the way back home before finally going to bed.

It may not seem like there is a lot of “work” going on, but there is… it’s just subtle. Right now my job is to learn the language, get to know the community, and build relationships with people. Right now I’m doing a lot of observing, listening, and speaking (very poorly and with difficulty). In a few weeks I’ll be doing a lot more “work” in the garden, and going around to all the households in the village to conduct a survey to help me better assess the water and sanitation needs of the community.

Water Consumption

I have to say, water conservation takes on a whole new meaning when you don’t have a tap right in your house. In the US it’s all about saving water in order to save the environment (and money). Noble reasons. I find that in Mali water conservation is more about reducing work. Water at the pump is free, so there’s no economic incentive to save water, and there’s really no concern of the pump going dry, so the environmental aspect is lost as well. But let me say, when you have to carry 15 liter buckets of water weighing over 30 lbs a distance of more than 120 meters, you start to understand water conservation. I used to use a whole bucket of water for one bath. Now I can get two baths out of one bucket. See what I just did there? I saved myself time and sweat labor. Let’s hear it for water conservation.

Washing Clothes

I don’t wash my clothes in Mali… I have my neighbor’s wife wash them for me. I love it. Besides, she does a way better job than I ever could. Of course, I provide the necessary buckets, soap, and financial compensation. It just feels weird having someone do my laundry for me… but at the same time it feels great!

Potpourri

2009-09-28T08:57:00.000-07:00

This entry is basically a sample platter of wonderfulness. Now that the hype is over… here’s what’s been happening lately.

Disclaimer: Almost everything in this entry is meant to be read with a sarcastic tone. I’m not complaining. Just pointing out some of the things I find amusing about my present situation. Please read and enjoy. Don’t be offended, and don’t think I’m insulting anyone. I’m not. This is just how things are.

Life in the Village

I’ve just completed my first ten days at site as an official Volunteer. That time was spent doing a number of wonderful things. These included celebrating the end of Ramadan (finally I can drink tea with everyone in the afternoon again!), going to a baby naming ceremony (denkundi), seeing a funeral procession for a dead baby, taking casual walks through my village, seeing my counterpart’s rice fields, visiting the giant women’s garden, seeing the school, looking down a number of wells, and going to the main local market.

The end of Ramadan celebrations were not exactly what I expected. I was anticipating some giant feast with clowns on stilts and Ferris Wheels and the whole nine yards. Instead, for three days in a row everyone even remotely related to my village host family all gathered together in the morning and had a huge meal. Not a feast. Just a lot of food. A cow was slaughtered for the occasion, which doesn’t happen very often.

On the third day the meal was finished off with café. I say café and not coffee because you simply can’t call it that. Café is instant coffee with sweetened condensed milk, but it’s probably about 60% hot water, 5% instant coffee, and 60% sweetened condensed milk. No, the math doesn’t work here, but that’s convenient since neither does the idea of “coffee”.

The baby naming ceremony was kind of neat. Denkundi (den-koon-dee) literally means “give a baby it’s head”. Traditionally, a newborn is not given a name for several days or weeks. When the time comes, a special ceremony is held in the morning where everyone gathers and an elderly person (usually a woman) announces the baby’s name (chosen by one of the parents). Later in the day there is usually a small meal for all those invited to the celebration.

Fortunately enough, I was invited to the meal and got to witness my very first goat slaughtering. It was kind of ironic actually. I discovered a new phenomenon in the process. I call it the “my, that’s a nice looking goat” phenomenon. It seems that every time I go somewhere and notice a goat tied up by itself I end up thinking to myself, “my, that’s a nice goat over there…”. Shortly after I have this thought the goat in question is usually led away to become my next meal.

What A Nice Goat

For those of you interested, I am now going to describe the goat slaughtering process. You can skip ahead if you don’t like this kind of thing, but I think it’s good to know where your food comes from.

Step 1: Have one person lay the goat down and hold the legs. Have a second person hold the mouth closed to keep the goat from bleating and…Slit the throat… and do it like you mean it. Make sure you get all the way through the wind pipe and start tickling the spine with the serrated edge of your knife. Pull the head back and let the animal bleed out.

Step 2: Let the goat bleed out for several minutes. During this time you can go have tea, munch on some peanuts, and chat with friends. Don’t worry about the twitching legs of your now semi-decapitated goat… he’s not going anywhere.

Step 3: With the goat resting on the ground, legs up in the air… Make incisions around each of the goat’s ankles and then make incisions from the ankles along the inside of each leg. Bring these incisions together on the underbelly of the goat. Now start peeling back the skin.

Step 4: When you can’t peel the skin back any more with the goat lying on the ground, get a piece of rope and hang the goat off a tree branch by its hind legs. This way you can get the rest of the skin off without getting the flesh dirty.

Step 5: Make an incision from the anus along the underbelly all the way to the middle of the chest. Remove internal organs and put them in a bucket to be cooked later on.

Step 6: Start removing flesh from the body. The meatier parts are along the rear legs and lower abdomen. When you can’t cut meat off the skeleton with ease anymore, take what’s left of the body off the tree, lay it on an old piece of corrugated tin, and begin dividing up the rest.

Step 7: Put everything into one pot and cook for several hours.

Step 8: Consume with caution. Not only are there chunks of pure meat in the pot, but there are also bonier parts… like sections of spine or chunks of leg. It’s best to take a “nibble” approach when eating goat with your rice and sauce.

Village History

I found out a few days ago that my village has had five Volunteers in the past. The first guy came in 1983 and apparently was fantastic. I was never told what he did for the community, only that he was great and they had a huge feast when he left. The second guy came in 1990 and only stayed for a year. Apparently he stayed in his house all the time and at the 12 month mark went to Bamako and never came back. Didn’t tell anyone he was leaving. The third guy lasted only six months in 1995 because of a severe case of homesickness. The fourth, a girl, who came in 2004 did a lot of work in the village. She got a huge women’s garden started and had several wells installed for watering it. I hear about this person all the time from people in my village. She was popular. The fifth, also a girl, came in 2006 and helped the community build a second school building… and did work in the women’s garden.

Work Potential

I’ve been talking with my counterpart and the dugutigi about what kind of work they want me to do in the next two years. Already, they have stated that they want me to help make improvements to the women’s garden and get a new well dug at the school. Essentially this means I know what I’ll be doing for the next two years already… I just need to do some research on the best way to move forward and then start finding ways to bring money into the community for building materials.

Women’s Garden

What is this women’s garden I’ve made mention of several times already? Very simple. It’s a giant garden that is run exclusively by women in the community. When I say giant, I mean that it’s a piece of land well over the size of a football field that is divided up into small plots about 7 or 8 yards long by 3 or 4 yards wide. The women can grow whatever they want in their individual plot and can do whatever they want with the produce. They can use it to feed their own family, or try to sell what they grow at the market to make some additional money for the family. It’s a great way to help empower women by generating income that goes directly to each woman… not her husband.

Village Meeting

I got to sit in on a joint meeting between my village and the one neighboring who shares our school. They were discussing, among other things, when school would start for the year and also took care of some administrative issues relating to the school. Apparently some people had to get some things off their chests because about an hour and a half into our three plus hour meeting things started to get a little out of control. The meeting went from being very calm, where people raised their hands and waited to speak… to everyone yelling at everyone, people getting up out of their seats and walking around, people restraining each other. Lots of angry faces. Fingers were wagged… and wagged some more.

It was funny though. During the time of outburst and anger, no one ever set foot on the mats that the village eldgers and dugutigis were sitting on. They yelled at them, but there was still a boundary that they wouldn’t cross. At one point during the commotion, my dugutigi got a call on his cell phone, literally got up, walked off to the side of a bunch of shouting people, and had a brief conversation. When finished, he went back to his place, laid down, and proceeded to let people yell at him for a while longer. I’d be lying if I said that I understood what was going on, but at the same time I definitely could tell that the way everyone was acting was completely normal and that when the meeting was over everyone would instantly be friends again as if nothing had ever happened… and sure enough, that’s exactly how it turned out.

Running of the Ba(s)

Every evening at dusk I hang out with a bunch of guys at the butiki (shop) nearest my house. We lounge around on chairs under large trees, drink tea, and chat about whatever. This butiki is located along one of the main roads in town and at dusk all the young boys are busy bringing their herds of animals back in from the fields. This produces something I like to refer to as the “Running of the Bas” (“baa-z”), which is not all that different from the Running of the Bulls in Spain.

The word for goat in Bambara is “ba”, which is ironic because that’s the sound they make. At dusk every night hundreds of bas are herded past the spot where I drink tea and it’s always hilarious to watch. Animals running everywhere, then stopping to pee and poo in the middle of the road. Motorcycles getting caught up in the fray. Boys chasing after with sticks swinging and voices yelling. Who needs American Idol when you could have this every night for 10 minutes…

Farewell Electricity

2009-09-16T07:38:00.000-07:00

I leave for site tomorrow. I’m a little nervous. Tomorrow I’ll either sink or swim. Hopefully all the language training in the past two months actually sticks with me.

I have a few things to cover in this entry, the first of which is an address change. If you plan on sending me something (mail or package… and I wish you would), please disregard the address I had posted previously and use the following:

Matt Seib, PCV

Corps de la Paix

BP 117

Segou

Mali

West Africa

(If you accidentally send something to the old address, don’t worry, it will still get to me, but it will take longer.)

I want to dedicate this paragraph to all things cycling. My primary mode of transportation here is a Peace Corps issued Trek 3500 mountain bike. It’s already been used for two years by another Volunteer, so it doesn’t shift into some of the gears, but that doesn’t stop me from looking like a bad ass every time I go whizzing past another donkey cart loaded with who knows what. I must say, there is something rather satisfying about traveling by bike over distances usually accomplished in a short car ride. Not only do you get some exercise, but you have a lot more interaction with your community. That and it just feels good to use the most efficient mode of human transportation ever mass produced. Hooray for bikes! Hooray for cyclists!

This part is for future Peace Corps Volunteers or people interested in spending a large amount of time overseas. I want to talk about shopping overseas – something I touched on in my last entry. I will begin by mentioning the lesson: “You can get almost everything you need in country.”

What do I mean? When you get accepted into PC and get a country placement, you will be sent a packet of information that contains all sorts of stuff on the country you will be in… including a packing list. You are also told that you can only bring two bags… with a weight limit of 80 lbs total (or something like that). I know when I packed I was under the assumption that I would have to bring everything I would need to survive for the next two years with me. I want to dispel that myth for posterity.

You can get some version of whatever you want or need while you are here… it just might not be up to the comfort standards of America. What do I mean? You could bring your favorite style of journal with you for the next two years, or you could buy notebooks at the boutique. You could bring a ton of clothes from home, or you could buy cheap western clothes here (thus dressing more like a Malian while maintaining western fashion). You could bring comfort foods, or you could buy them at an ex-pat store. The point I am trying to make is that you can pack very light and still be comfortable when you get here. Some of the few things that you can’t get that I would recommend bringing include: Ipod, headlamp, multi-tool, water bottle, digital camera, and rechargeable batteries. You can even get solar panels here if you’re willing to pay for one... and they’re not that expensive by US standards. My point here is to make it easy on yourself. Don’t bother dragging all kinds of stuff half way across the world that you can just buy with your Peace Corps allowance when you get here…

The Beginning of the End…

2009-09-15T10:35:00.000-07:00

Well, I’m officially a Volunteer now. I’m struggling with what to talk about because a lot has happened since I last wrote, but not much of it seems rather exceptional. The novelty of being here has worn off and nothing seems to be too surprising.

Swear-in went without incident. We got to the US embassy in the morning, took a bunch of pictures of eachother, and then began the ceremony. Some Malian officials spoke, the PC Mali Country Director said a few things, the US Ambassador gave a speech, and then several newly sworn in Volunteers gave short speeches in several of the languages found in Mali. The whole thing took less than two hours. Aside from the ceremony, one of the coolest parts of the morning was being able to see the inside of a US embassy. I’ve always wanted to go in one.

The rest of swear-in day was filled with food, fun, and dancing. We spent several hours at the American Club for lunch, the pool, and movies. After that we went to a hotel on the other side of town, had dinner, and then went to a bar for a few hours… finally finishing off the night at a dance club. We didn’t get back to the hotel until after 3 am!

There was a bit of unexpected commotion at the conclusion of the evening when the car taking me back to the hotel was stopped by the police. The officer wanted to see the ids of everyone in the car. Then he wouldn’t let us go without paying a bribe. Lame!

While at the bar we fulfilled a PC Mali tradition… The naming of the stage. Every year the new group of Volunteers (a stage) is given a name by the previous year’s stage. Our stage was given the name “Risky Business” because when we first got to Mali everyone was concerned with doing things by the book, but as the training period progressed, people started taking risks and doing things that would be out of the comfort zone for most. Therefore, the previous stage decided that we were all about business… just risky about it. It’s a great name. Everyone loves it.

Now I’m in Segou waiting to be installed at my site in a few days. Until then I’ve been forced to stay in a nice hotel, eat good food, and do nothing but read and go shopping for things I’ll need at site. It’s been rough. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

In the last day or so I’ve been taken around by a PC staff worker and been introduced to many different officials in charge of various offices for the Segou region. We met the governor, commandant of the gendarmes, commandant of the police, head of the regional health center, head of the Office du Riz regional office, the guy in charge of the Malian equivalent of the EPA for the region, among several others. Now I just need to meet all the people in charge of similar duties at the local level for my village.

I did some grocery shopping this afternoon in preparation for my move to site. I was able to scratch up macaroni, oatmeal, Nutella, honey, powdered milk, oranges, grapefruit, cucumbers, spaghetti, and a few other things. You can find almost any sort of food that is common or familiar in the US… you just have to be willing to pay the price. The other problem is not having refrigeration. I could buy a dozen eggs… but I’d have to eat them all in a few days. Same thing with things like jelly, butter, cheese, fruits, meat, etc. Everything has to be purchased and consumed the same day. This becomes challenging when all the things I want to eat are in Segou… and I live 80 km away. Most things won’t survive the trip. When I go to site I’m going to do a little experiment and see how long different kinds of fruits last before they spoil. Then I’ll be able to shop more wisely.

I was finally able to get some pictures onto Flickr. Follow the link to check them out!

End of Training

2009-09-07T17:15:00.000-07:00

I'm in the last week of training. On Thursday all the PCTs will swear in as PCVs... assuming we all pass our language proficiency exams. I just got word that I passed mine. What a relief!

Yesterday was bittersweet for many people as it was our last day of homestay. We said goodbye to the Malian families who have hosted us for the past two months and all the people we’ve met up until this point. There was a lot of hand shaking and a certain heaviness in the air that comes from sadness associated with the departure of friends.

I don't really have any crazy events to talk about this time around, but I thought it would be a good time to go over a few cultural things I've noticed lately and say a few things about swear in and the end of training. Also, I'm writing this entry on a fellow PCTs “Eee PC” and I must say... while its small and portable... it's too small and portable. I can't type to save my life on this thing! But it works, so I'm thankful.

I also want to mention that I am currently not sick, and haven’t been for some time now. I know my last entry or so said I was ill, but indeed, there are medicines to be found in Mali. I’ve been getting some emails recently saying things like “hang in there, even though you still aren’t feeling well” … etc. Yes, PCVs get sick here, but we are able to remedy illnesses easily and quickly in most cases… so mothers, rest assured.

End of Training
I’m sure I’ve said this before somewhere, but I think it bears repeating. You go through three months of training in PC. In PC Mali you do two months worth before “swearing in” as a Volunteer, and then one month of “in service training” between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We finish up our pre-service training on Wednesday and swear in as Volunteers on Thursday this week.

This final week has been filled with proficiency tests in things like culture, safety and security, health, technical work, and language. We just had our language proficiency tests today. Everyone was a bit nervous about failing. The reason being that if you fail, you have to take a week of intensive language tutoring and then get tested again… or you may not be allowed to swear in. Granted, PC wants you to pass and will do whatever it takes to get you to pass, but it’s still a stressful situation. I did pass my test though… so that makes the score Matt 1 : Bambara 0.

Swear In
As I said, Thursday is swear in. Everyone will get dressed up in nice American or Malian clothing, go to the embassy, meet the ambassador, and then take an oath regarding serving the US abroad. After that and a lot of picture taking we check into a hotel, and then get down to celebrating. Apparently we’ll be going to several places around Bamako enjoying good food, good friends, and good times.

The Culture of "Mine"
What I want to talk about is what I'm going to refer to as America's "Culture of 'Mine'". Of course I'm talking about the emphasis people from the US put on personal possessions. This idea doesn't translate well to Malians. It's hard for me to explain in a way that makes sense, but I'll try by starting with a case-study.

Case-Study: Give Me Your Ipod
Like most PCVs, I brought an Ipod with me. It's been a lifesaver. I love my Ipod. So do Malians. They want one too. In fact, they want MY Ipod. Several people at my homestay have told me that when it came time for me to leave, I should give them my Ipod. When I asked why, they simply said because they didn't have one. This didn't make sense to me on several levels, so I investigated further. Here's the abridged dialouge:

Malian: When you go, you will give me your Ipod.
Me: But if I give you my Ipod, then I won't have one.
Malian: Yes.
Me: How am I supposed to listen to music?
Malian: You will buy a new one.
Me: Where? There's no place to buy an Ipod in Mali.
Malian: You will have one sent from the US.
Me: How will I pay for it?
Malian: With your money. All Americans are rich.
Me: Actually, that's not really how it works.
Malian: Why do you Americans not like to give your things to other people?
Me: Because they are our things. If we give them away, we won't be able to enjoy them. We won't have anyTHING.
Malian: (confused look) So you won't give me your Ipod?
Me: No.
Malian: In Mali, everyone shares everything.
Me: Ok, but I'm leaving this place and going somewhere else. How can I share my Ipod with you if we live six hours apart?
Malian: (confused look) So thats a "no"? You won't give me your Ipod?
Me: No. It is my Ipod.

We went on to talk about how in Mali it is common practice for people to ask others for things. A person who is asked to give/share something apparently is under no obligation to actually give/share said object. However, it seems to be that said person better have a pretty good excuse or you come off as being extremely selfish.

This is where things don't translate to me. In the US we share things, but under normal circumstances friends don't usually ask eachother to give personal items. You borrow something, or go out and buy your own. A person who doesn't have a particular item doesn't approach someone who has the item and expect that person to give them whatever it is they lack... all loosely founded on the basis of "I need that, so you should give it to me".

I want to make it clear that I'm not trying to complain or downplay Malian culture. Just explaining things through my American perspective. What I have described speaks volumes about the communal attitude of Malians and the willingness of people to help those around them. People are not afraid to simply ask others for things. To me it says something about the spirit of cooperation that is found here. Everyone helps everyone when they are able, not just when it is convenient to do so.

I might be sayng something edgy here, but I think a lot of the difference has to do with poverty. Mali is a poor place. The US is a rich place. It seems that in a rich society, everyone needs to have their own stuff. It's not simply about accumulating possessions, it is what is inferred about you if you don't have your own stuff... you're poor. And you don't ask people for things because that infers that you can't afford to get that thing on your own... which goes against the American dream or self-success.

This is not the case in Mali... a poor place. Everyone here knows they are poor. People in my homestay told me this everyday. The understanding here seems to be that since everyone is poor, teamwork is necessary. Amadu might own a shovel. Suma might own a bucket. Brahman might own a pick. None of them has the tools necessary to dig a well, but together they do... so people work together... on everything. It's strange if they don't. There's no embarrassment in admitting that a person doesn't have something. It's just another opportunity for people to work corporately.

Site Visit

2009-08-25T00:08:00.000-07:00

I had an entry all prepared and ready to go in my ususal format, but I've decided to scrap that plan today and be a little more "organic". Things are going well right now. I'm back at Tubaniso after a week visiting my site. Things are going well at the moment and I'm not sick, which is amazing because every time I come back to Tubaniso I seem to catch something. Hopefully I've beaten the curse forever.

I'm very excited to become a real PCV. Right now I'm a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee), but will become an actual Volunteer on Sept. 10. At the moment all I am interested in is getting the next few weeks out of the way so I can move in to my final location.

Speaking of which... I really like my site. I was afraid I wouldn't, and on the way there I thought for sure I wouldn't, but then I did. How about that. My site is definitely in "brusse" (the country), and definitely in the Sahel. About 10 km before arrving to my village all I could see were rice fields in every direction and probably one tree for every square mile of land... Rrrrggg. However, after a bit I noticed a group of trees on the horizon. My village.

Let me now tell you how much better my village is than your village. Mine has lots of big, huge, old trees everywhere, a new school, a new CSCOM (medical clinic), a three story mosque in my backyard, and great people. The streets are really narrow, and concessin walls really high, so you can't see down any road more than 50 ft at a time. I feel as if I'm in a maze... and I like it.

Here's the skinny on my house. Three room ranch with one full bath (negen). One kitchen, one bedroom, one "rumpus" room. At least two windows in each room. The structure is made out of mud, but all the walls are coated in cement mortar, and the floor is concrete. I have my own concession, so for the first time I'm living by myself in my own house. My "yard" is very small and has no shade whatsoever, but I'm planning on building a shaded porch. Since there's no plumbing, I have to get water from the India-Mali pump located about 200 meters down the street.

I do my banking about 80 km away in Segou. To get there I have to bike 15 km (about 1 hr), and then take a bus taxi for 2 hours to get into town. There's no such thing as "just running to the bank". I'm more than ok with this, however, as Segou is the bestest ever.

Segou was one of the old French regional capitals. The streets are wide, decently maintained, and fairly clean. There's not a lot of traffic and it's relatively quite. Since Segou is in the middle of the country, it's a great destination for tourists, so there's a lot of Europeans coming through. There's even a "tourist district" with nice hotels and stores to buy Western goods... and everything is in walking distance.

Peace Corps has a voucher system set up so that when I go into town to do banking I can stay overnight at one of the hotels. The hotel PC has an agreement with has both airconditioned rooms with private bathrooms, and a dormitory with a community bathroom. Our vouchers are for the dorm. The hotel also comes with a bar, restaurant, and tv with all the European soccer games. Perfect. Going to Segou is like taking a little mini-vacation every now and then.

Peace Corps also has a bureau (office) set up in Segou for the PCVs. There's no staff person there. It's just a single, large room with a bathroom. There's some couches, a computer, kitchenette, and small library of books and dvds. In the future, most of my Internet communication will originate from the bureau.

Now I'm back at Tubaniso and once again into the daily grind of training. I'll be here for a few more days, then I'll spend close to two weeks back in homestay. After that I'll be back to Tubaniso for a few days before swear-in. Time seems to be going by quickly now.

One Month Milestone

2009-08-13T00:52:00.000-07:00

The last two weeks at homestay have been full of little life lessons. Now I'm back at Tubaniso and just passed the one month mark of being in Mali... Only 26 more to go...
Per usual, I have a lot of information to dispel. Please peruse the proceeding pronouncements.

Health Update
Language & Grammar
English is Ridonkulous
Weather Report
The Money System
My Site!
General Reflections

Health Update
In my last entry I mentionted my first “true experience” with Mr. D. Well, the day I got back to Soundougouba the PC Medical Officer gave me a call and told me I had amoebas... they're the ones that called Mr. D and invited him over. I'm not a health expert, but I've been told that amoebas are basically more advanced cellular organisms than bacteria. Thus, they are harder to kill. What does that mean? It means that you can't use regular antibiotics to kill the little buggers because they'll just use their little flagella and swim away from the meds (or something like that). The solution: more powerful meds. Basically the stuff you take to get rid of amoebas is killing them, but in the process, also kills a little bit of you as well, so it's anything but a pleasant experience. My advice to anyone back home... don't get amoebas. They may seem harmless, but it's just not worth it. And for those of you who are interested in getting amoebas and what to know how... just mix a little poo into your beef stroganoff at dinner and you'll be all set.

Language & Grammar
I think I'm finally starting to get the hang of Bambara from a grammatical angle, but there's still a lot more to learn. No w I need to work on building my horrible, horrible vocabulary. Some aspects of studying the language have proven to be very entertaining. For example, there are approximately 19.3 root words to the entire language, from which all other words are formulated. There are basic words for every day things like water or salt, or opening (door/mouth).

Here's a little language lesson for everyone. The word for salt: koko. The word for water: ji. The word for opening (typically when referring to a door or one's mouth): da. The word for ocean: kokoji, or salt water. The word for beach: kokojida, opening to the sea. With this sort of nomenclature you can easily give something a name that has never existed in Mali before by simply stringing together already known root words. This is completely counterintuitive to English, where we have specific words for everything... sometimes multiple words for one thing depending on it's size, orientation, preparation, or other noteworthy condition. Example: automobile. In English we have: truck, sedan, station wagon, coupe, van, convertible, mini-van, sub-compact, etc. In Bambara they have “mobili”. That's it.

English is Ridonkulous
Aside from comparing Bambara and English, I have come to realize how incredibly difficult it is to learn English compared to many other languages. Our grammar structure is different. We have different pronunciations for our vowels, but don't use accent marks. The way certain sounds are generated have variable spelling. There's about 18 different ways to say the same thing and not use slang. We have words for everything! For you English-as-a-second-language people out there... props to you.

Weather Report
We're in the middle of the rainy season right now and there hasn't really been much rain. A lot of the people I've been talking to thus far have remarked on how dry it has been this year. This is bad on a couple of levels if things don't change. First, it means that the growing season is not going to be as long this year. Second, it means that there won't be as much groundwater recharge, so come next dry season, a lot of wells are probably going to dry up.

In terms of temperature, when it does rain the temp does drop... and it's great. I never knew 75 degrees F could feel so cold. I actually have to cover up at night now much of the time because I'm cold.

The Money System
The money system here is a little hard to grasp at first. On the surface it seems quite simple. The exchange rate is about 500 CFA:$1 US. This makes it easy to put a dollar figure on things. Where it gets tricky is when you have to buy anything. Why? Because 1 CFA is such a small monetary increment, they don’t even make currency in that denomination. The smallest coin made is a 5 CFA piece. This means that the monetary system is calculated at a fifth of anything’s actual value in CFA. Confusing? Let me explain.

Coins come in denominations of 5, 10, 25, 50, 100, 200, 250, & 500. Bills in 1000, 2000, 5000, 10000. Since the smallest coin is a 5 CFA piece, instead of saying that costs 5 CFA, you say it costs 1 “coin” essentially. Thus with coin denominations you actually say 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 40, 50, 100. Same for bills. This means that every time I go to buy something I have to attempt to ask the price, ask the person to repeat it for me, then do math in my head to take the number give and then multiply it by five to get the actual value in CFA, and then decide if the price is right. I can understand why the money system is like this, but it still doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.

My Site!
I got my site placement on Monday! I'll be living in a village of about 3,000 people, located about 80 km NE of Segou, which is one of the largest cities in Mali. The Niger River is in the neighborhood and most of the people in town cultivate rice on subsistence farms. Apparently the area is extremely flat and almost totally devoid of trees. This means the area is prone to flooding when the Niger crests its banks.

I've been told that I'll be working with “Office Riz Segou” (basically the Segou office of rice cultivation) and that some of the things I can expect to work on include:
India/Mali pump repair Pit latrine construction Soak pit construction Water delivery for a women's garden Hand washing/hygiene promotion Organizing income generating activities for women's groups

I'm really excited about all the potential projects that can be done at my site. There have also been two PCVs at my site in the past already and both the PCVs and the community got along well. This is good news for me as it means the community will already be familiar with my reasons for being there... so hopefully I won't have to convince them that I'm not a spy... The one thing that I'm a little bummed about at the moment is the lack of trees.

I also got a chance to meet my Malian counterpart today. We said “hi” and exchanged names. His name is Yacouba and he appears to be in his 40s. He's a rice farmer. That's all I know at the moment. More to come once we get to know each other.

General Reflections
A lot has happened in the last month. I’m starting to build relationships with other PCTs and PCVs. I’m getting to know Mali. I’m getting every intestinal malady offered. I’m enjoying myself when I feel good, but the world seems awful when I’m sick. I wonder why…

On some levels I’m regretting having come to Mali… here is one of the not so obvious reasons. Being in a situation where you’re often sick and can’t communicate and are totally reliant on others for your well being necessitates a certain transformation in personal attitude. There is no such thing as a pessimist in Mali. Thus, a well established part of identity is slowly dying. Will I turn completely to the “dark side” and become 100% optimist? Probably not. But honestly, I think this sort of change isn’t a bad thing.

Cell Phone

2009-07-29T00:52:00.000-07:00

Here's the 411 on my cell phone.

It's set up like a pay as you go plan and I only pay for calls and texts that I send. Anything I receive is free. So... if you want to talk to me on the phone it's a lot cheaper if the call originates from the US... and even so it'll probably be at least $0.30/min. I think we figured out that if we call the US from our cell phones it's close to $1/min... and we don't get wages here...

This is how to call me or send texts if you choose. Simply dial:
011-223-7845-5443

This number includes international codes and whatnot already.
Also, I have voice mail so if I don't pick up you can leave me a message

In Sickness And In Health

2009-07-28T11:26:00.000-07:00

This entry is going to be about personal and public health issues. Why? Because conveniently enough I was sick yesterday and today the Wat/San group went through water related diseases and health issues. There will also be a special section at the end devoted to flies, who have become my second arch enemy... after mayonnaise.

Item #1: Personal Health
I'd like to start this section with a disclaimer... if you don't want to read about my health issues, simply fast forward to the next section. Don't read this, then become disgusted and scold me.

Yesterday I had my first true Mr. D (diarrhea) experience. I say "true" because it wasn't even on the same order of magnitude as what we associate diarrhea with in the US. In the States you might feel ill and get the "runs" once or twice and then it's over. Right?

I had 19, yes, nineteen visits to the negen yesterday... in 16 hours. Mr. D said "no" to Immodium. He said "no" to Pepto. I decided to say "no" to food of any kind and yet he still kept me company for some time. The strangest part was that I really didn't feel sick... I just needed to stay close to a negen all day. As evening came around I started to feel tired because I'd been up since 3 a.m. and hadn't eaten all day, but other than that it wasn't so terrible... aside from the obvious terribleness of the situation that is. The good news is today i feel fine. It's like nothing ever happened. However, I will be checking in with the medical officer over the next few days.

Item #2: Major Health Issues in Mali
Obviously a big focus of the Wat/San group is getting people clean water and getting rid of dirty water. An important starting point for this is to understand the different health concerns associated with contaminated water and other public health concerns that arise from the presence or lack of water.

Diseases related to water in Mali can be broken up into four basic categories:

Water-Borne (consumption)
Water-Washed (contact)
Water Related (proximity)
Water Scarcity (hygiene)

Water-borne diseases are anything that a person contracts from consuming water. This includes: cholera, diarrhea, dysentery, typhoid fever, hepatitis A, polio, guinea worm, etc.

Water-washed diseases are anything that a person contracts from contact with water. The main one in Mali is schistosomiasis.

Water related diseases are anything that come from water but do not result from direct consumption or contact. These diseases are transmitted through vectors, typically mosquitos or flies. Diseases spread by mosquitos include malaria, dengue/hemmoragic fever, yellow fever, and elephantitis. Diseases spread by flies include river blindness and sleeping sickness.

Water scarcity diseases come from a lack of personal hygiene, which is usually caused from lack of water. The major disease here is trachoma.

Here's an explanation of a few of the major diseases in case you don't know what they are.

Cholera
A bacterial infection that causes severe diarrhea and vomiting. If not treated immediately a person will die due to dehydration and a collapse of blood vessels. An untreated person will die from cholera in under 24 hours, and there have been cases where some people die in as little as two hours.

Schistosomiasis
This disease is caused by a parasite that can reside in the intestines or urinary tract. The urinary version brings with it pain in urination, restrictions in the bladder, and possibly death from potential inability to expel urine (only severe cases). The intestinal version behaves like dysentery, which is characterized by diarrhea and blood in the stool.

Malaria
This disease is typically caused from being bitten by female mosquitos who carry the parasite. When infected the parasite moves to a persons liver where it incubates and then disperses through the blood. Malaria is characterized by a high, spiking fever, aching, vomiting, diarrhea in children, swelling of the liver, jaundice, and in the advanced stage convulsions and death.

Trachoma
This disease is actually in the family that houses pink eye (conjunctivitis). It results mainly from people rubbing their eyes with contaminated hands, but can also come from flies landing on the face near the eyes. A bacteria gets underneath the eyelid and causes inflammation that then causes the eyelid to curl in towards the cornea. Eyelashes then scratch the cornea with blinking, which causes corneal scarring over time. The final result, if not treated, is permanent blindness.

Item #3: Flies
As stated above, flies are a vector for some water related diseases. Oddly enough, they are also a vector for a lot of non-water related diseases as well. The big problem with flies is they like to land on things like poo... and then the come land on you, or your food, or your toothbrush... And they're everywhere! Honestly, I would not complain if flies were completely eradicated from the world. Yes, ecosystems everywhere would most likely be completely destroyed, but that's a risk I'm willing to take. I think the single biggest complaint from all 67 trainees at this point are the flies. They are clearly agents of the fun-police and are bent on disrupting all instances of enjoyment or periods requiring concentration.

Life in the Village

2009-07-26T12:52:00.000-07:00

I'm back at Tubaniso after 11 days in Soundougouba. There are so many things that I could talk about that have happened since my last entry that I just don't know where to begin. I suppose at the beginning would be a good place to start...

Here's what I'll be talking about:

Arriving at Soundougouba
My Host Family
The Water Crisis
Language Class
Life in Soundougouba
Life outside Soundougouba
Joking Cousins
Social Interaction
Illness & Medicine
The Good, the Bad, and the Ɲegen

Arriving at Soundougouba

We left Tubaniso on a Wednesday morning. All the people going to Soundougouba are in the Water/San sector, and we were the first group to have our vehicle loaded and ready to go that morning... or so we thought. Just as we were driving away the PC medical officer ran up to make sure we had our water filters. Good thing she did because they hadn't been loaded onto the truck. Everyone was amused at the irony of the Water/San group almost showing up to homestay without any way to filter drinking water.

Soundougouba is a small village located about 2 km off a road that is about 4 km off the main road from Bamako to Segou. We pulled up to the dugutigi's house (village chief) and were greeted by many curious kinds and the music of several different kinds of drums. Everyone was ushered under an awning with a row of empty chairs on one side and a row of village elders on the other. The awning was completely surrounded with kids and the women were in the middle of the dugutigi's compound beating drums and playing other traditional instruments. The music was great.

After some traditional greetings from the dugutigi, one of the guys from our group (John) presented the dugutigi with a traditional gift of kola nuts. The tradition behind this is that when a visitor enters a village he/she gives the dugutigi a gift in exchange for forgiveness in case the visitor commits a faux pas while visiting. This allows the dugutigi to act as our advocate in a possible dispute with other residents.

After presenting the kola nuts each of the seven members of our group were introduced to our host family. Our host fathers gave us Malian names and we also take the last name of our host father. This is important for another cultural item in Mali known as "joking cousins" (more on that later). I was given the name N'Ci (sounds like n-chee), which means "first-born". I found this ironic as I am the first-born... my host family did not know this. My last name is Daou, so my full Malian name is N'Ci Daou. Once each of us received a name we got up and danced with members or our host family and a bunch of women from the village. When the dancing was over we grabbed our bags and set forth to move into our new homes and meet our families.

My Host Family

My host father's name is Braman. He's 75 years old. His wife, Ya, is 58. Apparently when women marry, they retain their maiden surnames, while their kids take the father's surname. However, there are exceptions to that rule, and it happens to be true within my host family. Braman and Ya have a son, Amadu, who's 32. His last name is Kone because a relative of the family never produced male offspring, so Amadu carries that relative's last name to keep it "alive". Amadu is married to Mariam, 28, who happens to be one of the dugutigi's daughters. Amadu and Mariam have four kids, Ashataa, Suleman, Braman, and Leyji who are 12, 10, 9, and 4 respectively. They all live in one compound called a "concession". Braman and Ya live in a house on one side, and Amadu's family lives on the on the other side. The whole place is about the size of a football field and is surrounded by a mud brick wall about four feet high. I live in a room attached to Amadu's house and his family provides for me, so he is essentially my host father instead of Braman. Basically I have an "official" host father and an "effective" host father.

The Water Crisis

After getting settled into my new home I had a few things to figure out. First and foremost was my water situation. PC gave each of us a water filter and they are great! They're dual candle, dual chamber bucket filters. The top chamber receives untreated water. The water then passes through a rough filter that removes particulates and then takes water to the second filter in the other chamber. The second filter is a ceramic that takes out very small particulates and bacteria. The water then sits in the second chamber until it is let out through a valve. The one teeny tiny other detail is that these filters also need chlorine to inactive any bacteria or viruses that make it through the ceramic filter. PC didn't send any chlorine or bleach with us... so after an hour or so everyone was trying to figure out what could be done.

PC sends at least one staff worker to every village to act as a language teacher and translator. They are called LCFs (Language Culture Facilitators) and they stay at a house in town, so they're available 24/7. When people realized that no one had chlorine or bleach for water treatment we went to the LCFs house to see if we could get some. Our LCFs didn't realize the severity of the problem and simply said that they would have someone bring bleach tomorrow. To we, the PCTs, this was unacceptable because it was 90 degrees F out and everyone had used all their water already.

We then asked for a Bambara phrase to have our host families boil water for us. This seems like a simple solution, but the phrase we were given was "give me some hot water". This phrase stipulated that the water need neither to be from our filters or actually boiled... so a bunch of us, including myself, got hot turbid water. Fan-Fing-Tastic! Most people ended up getting rather dehydrated by the end of our first day.

The next morning we reiterated our dilemma several times to our LCFs. The final response they gave was that we could simply buy bleach at one of the corner butigis (shops) if we needed it. This was incredibly frustrating because we could have bought bleach the night before and not had any problems. We're still trying to figure out why this solution was not presented to us the night before. Not to worry though. I now have bleach and have wonderful pool tasting water whenever I want it.

Language Class

Our group of seven has been split into two groups for language classes. I'm in the group of four. We have Bambara class for four hours every morning and then for another three hours in the afternoon. We get a two hour lunch break, which is perfect for going home, having lunch, and taking a nap. I've never been into taking naps, but after four hours of language class and very hot weather, all you want to do is lay down.

The language classes have been both a blessing and a burden. Obviously a blessing because we're learning to communicate with the world around us. A burden because things are slow going. We have so many questions about this, that, and the other thing that our LCF tends to become thrown off because we upset his rhythm of teaching. I'm learning to just keep my mouth shut if I have questions as things seem to get answered in time if I just wait long enough. I just wish some of the other people in my class would have that realization.

It's also frustrating because some people try to make Bambara fit English expressions. This is impossible! Bamabara, while not only having a completely different grammatical structure, is also a tonal language. Whereas in English we have words that sound the same but are spelled differently (bear, bare), Bambara has words that are spelled the same and are spoken the same, but have different meanings depending on the context and how you emphasize the vowels. For example, the word "ba" can mean "mother", "goat", "big", and "river". Needless to say this is confusing for English speakers.

I'm also finding learning the language to be difficult in general. Not because I don't understand what is going on or how things work, but because I don't have any time to digest what I learned. I've gotten used to finishing a class and then going back to my office or the library and reviewing the material for a while. These options are not available and I still haven't figured out a way to get some quite time. I'll figure things out soon enough.

Life in Soundougouba

Soundougouba is a village of about 1,000 people. No one knows the exact population, but given the number of concessions and a general number of people per concession, we figure 1,000 is about right. The village was started by a Diarra family... however long ago it was, and thus almost everyone in town is a Diarra. My family is one of the few non-Diarra families in the area. This also means that everyone is related to everyone because there is only one main surname and the village is small.

The village is actually divided into two parts: old and new. Most people, including we PCTs live in the new village. This area was intentionally planned out before anyone started building, so all the roads meet at nice right angles and the blocks are basically symmetrical. As a civil engineer, this is a simple comfort. The sand/gravel roads are also very wide and maintained fairly well. New village comes complete with dugutigi's house, two mosques, a bank, several butigis, a soccer field, several schools, three India-Mali pumps, several water taps, and an enclosed area used as a dance hall. The butikis, one mosque, soccer field, pumps, water taps, bank, and dugutigi's house are located close to each other in the center of town. The other mosque is located south of town and the schools are on the north side of town.

People have to pay for water access to the pumps and taps. The taps are the most expensive option as the water is piped in from the next village (Baguineda Camp), followed by the pumps, and then numerous pit wells. Water quality also decreases with each option.

The old village is located about 2 km north of new village along an irrigation canal/river. Old village is much smaller than new village, but is where the market is located. Market is every Thursday and everyone shows up. Old village also has several stores that sell agricultural supplies such as seeds, farming tools, fertilizers, and pesticides. Over 90% of Soundougouba relies on subsistence agriculture with rice, millet, corn, and various vegetables being the principle crops. There is no electricity in Soundougouba except for some of the more affluent residents who have generators.

Life outside Soundougouba

As I said above, some of the water in Soundougouba comes from the next town over, Banguineda Camp. This is a village of about 5,000 people, with many more amenities. It's located on a main road, so there is electricity along with a basic water utility. The presence of electricity means that some of the butikis have refrigerators with cold soda. On several occasions we have walked the 2 km and back just to get a cold soda as the coolest liquid available in Soundougouba is at air temperature, which has never gotten below 75 degrees F.

While Baguineda Camp is much larger than Soundougouba, we feel that it is not nearly as nice. It is much dirtier, the streets are uneven, rutted, and narrow, and the city is only mostly set up as a grid. There are 10-12 PCTs in B. Camp that we visit when going to get sodas, or who come to visit us in Soundougouba when they need to escape the throngs of children.

Whenever the B. Campers come visit we always go to the big rocks on the south side of town. The "big rocks" are basically hills made out of giant boulders that go up 4-5 stories. There is a great view of the surrounding area from the top and the locals don't go up there, so it's a nice refuge. White people in Mali are called "Tubabs" (too-baabs), so we jokingly refer to our adventures on the rocks as our "Tubab Time".

Joking Cousins

A big part of Malian culture are the joking cousins. The origin of this tradition is unknown, but it's been around officially since the 1200s. Throughout history different ethnic groups have been dominant in Mali, and this created a lot of tension between the groups. Each ethnic group is composed of particular surnames and there aren't that many surnames compared to the US. The concept of joking cousins is said to have been created as a way to dissipate the tension between these groups. The idea is that you are allowed to mock people with certain surnames and once a brief exchange has been made you are then friends with that person.

For example, since I'm a Daou, I'm joking cousins with Diarras and Coulibalis. Whenever I meet a person with the last name Diarra or Coulibali I am allowed to insult them. I can call them a donkey, a dog, a farter, or I can even say they are my slave. They of course can say the same thing right back and no offense is taken by either party. In fact, it's almost expected that you offer an insult to a joking cousin.

There is a long-standing joke between all joking cousins in Mali. Of course I'm talking about the "bean joke". Everyone in Mali eats beans, but it doesn't stop people from calling each other "bean eaters". The implication of course is that the person farts. Farting is considered very inappropriate in Mali... way more so than in the US, so calling someone a farter is definitely a worthy insult.

The concept of joking cousins is also useful in several other situations. For instance, if two people are having a dispute, a joking cousin can be brought in as a mediator and once the joking cousin has said what they have to say the situation is resolve. End of story.

Social Interaction

There are several social intricacies in Malian culture that are not present in the US. Foremost among these are the greeting and farewell procedures that must be done by everyone to everyone at every possible moment.

When greeting a person you cannot simply say "hello". You must say "good morning", then "how's your family?", "did you sleep well?", "did your family sleep well", etc. Then, if it's a younger and older person talking the older person will give the younger person several blessings such as "may Allah bless your day", "may Allah bring you peace", "may Allah remove your chronic runny stool", etc. Ok, that last one might be made up, but you get the idea. The same goes for farewells. "Good night", "sleep well", "may your family sleep well", "greet your family for me", "travel in peace", etc. There's about 80,000 combinations for all of these to go together and everyone is talking to everyone at the same time where there are more than two people involved. It's rather confusing.

The best part is that you don't simply greet the person or persons that you are going to see. The above procedures are carried out with every person you encounter on your way to your final destination. I must say "good morning", "how did you sleep", "how is your family", and "how are you" about 30 times every morning on my way to language class and I repeat this, adjusting for the time of day, every time I go anywhere. In my opinion it gets a little out of control in the morning when I go running and pass by every person in God's creation. And if that isn't enough, the person who approaches must initiate the greeting (that's me most of the time) and it is considered very rude if they don't.

Needless to say, I've been rather frustrated with this aspect of Malian culture thus far. I don't have any problem saying "Hi" to everyone I see, but having a mini-life testimonial with everyone is tiresome. Most of my frustration comes from the fact that I simply don't know the language well enough yet to say the greeting properly. The other part of my frustration comes from simply not understanding the importance of interpersonal communication here. I'm sure my un-positive opinion will change over time, but at the moment I must be honest and say that this is one aspect of the culture that I don't understand.

Illness & Medicine

I've only been semi-sick for a day or two so far. I had some Mr. D (diarrhea) and upset stomach for a while and was feeling rather sluggish. My host family caught on to this and asked if I was alright. I said I was just a little sick and that they didn't have to worry. I had taken some medicine and would be fine. Well, the next morning rolls around and I'm still not feeling super great and say this when asked how I'm feeling. Then I went to eat a banana for breakfast and when I pulled it out of the bag it was all gross and yucky ( I didn't eat the banana). That night when asked how I was feeling I said I still was not 100%, which my family interpreted as me still being DEATHLY ill. They thought the bananas made me sick and started preparing me some traditional medicine. I had to take my host dad over to the LCFs house and have the LCF explain that I would not be taking traditional medicine and that I was OK.

It seems that when any of the PCTs here are not feeling well the families become over-concerned. We have all had basic stomach issues since getting here and two of the families have taken it upon themselves to call the PC medical staff saying that their PCT is super-crazy-sick. It's good that our families are so concerned for our health, but they don't get the little things, like washing your hands after using your hand to wipe your ass and then use it to make dinner... They understand major health issues, but not the simple measures that can be taken to prevent common illness.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ɲegen

Overall my time so far has been a positive experience, but it hasn't been without its ups and downs. The ups have been things like going to a Malian wedding, playing a full game of soccer (on a gravel field), climbing the big rocks, listening to donkeys bray all the time, and some of the ridiculous conversations I've had with the locals. The downs have been the constant heat, the dust, and the lack of privacy. Being a pessimist by nature I will now elaborate on the negatives.

The heat. It's hot here. I can handle the heat. It's usually breezy which is a big help. The problem is that all the buildings are made out of mud bricks. Brick, while not a great insulator, holds heat very well. That means that when its hot all day, your house soaks up all the heat and even though the outside cools off at night, the inside of your house is still 95 degrees F. There's nothing so fun as waking up in the middle of the night, suffocating from the heat and humidity, and laying on a bed sheet that is completely drenched in your sweat. If you're lucky enough to have a house with a window on the opposite wall from the door the cross breeze does absolutely no good because the mosquito net stops all air movement before it gets to you. Also, regarding the house retaining heat issue - we all keep our water filters in our houses, so the water we drink is usually 85-95 degrees F. Nice and refreshing!

It's also very dusty here. When it does rain, the storm is preceded by strong winds that kick up dust into thick clouds that coat everything. Your pants get covered with dust from the roads and your feet are always dirty. This necessitates a lot of washing - both of clothes and humans.

The lack of privacy has by far been the biggest burden for me. I live to have a little cave time everyday. Some time to be alone, feel alone, and just clear my mind of the day and decompress. I don't get that in Soundougouba. First of all, I'm one of seven white people in the middle of Africa. I get noticed. I'm being watched wherever I go, no matter what I'm doing. It's not as bad as when I was in Bangladesh, but it still happens. Thus, we have eliminated the whole concept of feeling alone. Second, I can't go "hide" in my house because it's so hot all the time... even at night. I stay outside under a tree and try to read or write in my journal or whatever, but people always start talking to me. Thus, we have eliminated the concept of actually being alone.

The worst situation, which combines both "lack of aloneness" elements is bathroom time. First off, bathrooms in Bambara are called negens (ñegen). Usually there is one for numbers one and two and a separate one for bathing. The only difference is the one for bathing does not have a hole in the floor that goes to a cesspit. Negens typically do not have doors, but rather overlapping walls. It is necessary to make noise before entering a negen to avoid walking in on someone. Negens are usually square in shape and do not have roofs. They are open to the elements and difficult to use during a rain storm. They are typically made of mud bricks, but nicer ones will be coated with a cement vainer.

The negen at my concession is located along the main road in town... Main Street if you will. The walls of my negen only go up to my chest, so no matter what I go into the negen for... everybody knows... So if the Tubab is taking a shower... soon everyone will know what kind of shampoo he uses. Needless to say, this lack of negen privacy has created a bit of "negen fear" that I could do without. All I have to say is the negen at my actual site better have 8 foot high walls or someone is going to hear about it.

Closing

So, while I have just listed all the things that bother me the most, there have been enough good things to overcome the bad. I'm finding the experience challenging, but tolerable. It's causing me to grow in new ways and see life from a different angle.

I'll be at Tubaniso (little America to us all) from Sunday to Wednesday this week before going back to homestay for another two weeks - I believe. The time here will be spent doing some language, technical and cultural training... along with recuperating from the initial "culture shock" of life in the village. We're getting cake tonight to celebrate several birthdays. Sweet!