Thankfulness

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

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)

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

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

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 US 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

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 +

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!