Sometimes riding a donkey cart, having random dance parties, tying tall musoros (head wraps) or drinking a cold Coca Cola classic is the best form of stress relief. When it forces me to not take myself too seriously, I'm going somewhere.
After lunch naps are soul-rejuvinating.
The pride I feel at times for being American. We are a truly blessed nation, IF, we value what we have, stop the gluttony and work together.
Thank you taxpayers. You get a high national literacy rate. Peace Corps volunteers like me :) Educated citizens. Paved roads and traffic signals to keep us safe. Police officers. A government that may not be perfect, but it does its job. Regulation agencies for food/drinks/etc. We have it really good.
Bob Marley, Michael Jackson and Barack Obama can transcend all educational levels, social classes and even oceans. Music and words as art can be powerful. And unite.
The importance of art and learning creativity. I haven't seen art in the schools here. It doesn't mean it doesn't exist, but Malian culture definitely encourages oneness - which has its pros and cons. It's hard to be creative and uniquely creative when you're trying to be just. like. everyone. else.
But, at the same time - We are all one big family. Love this about Mali.
This is a big one - Our actions, our thoughts, have tangible and invisible consequences. But they all have consequences. When I don't wash my hands with soap - that reinforces that soap isn't necessary. And little kids die here because of dehydration. Because of diarrhea. That they got from dirty food or hands. Every time I feel like I want to have a baditude, I have to check myself - because every action I make, represents all Americans to an entire country of people. That shit has consequences.
Nothing is "Mine" anymore. Malians share absolutely everything - and if they can do it without literally a cent in their pocket, or the CFAs equivalent, I can share everything I have too.
The most touching and life-altering moments usually happen with very few words at all.
No, I cannot do everything by myself.
Absence definitely makes the heart grow fonder. Hand-written letters are a good way to mend it.
How much I appreciate my journalism education and my ability to write. Not write, as in for newspapers or stories, but the fact that I can WRITE. A sentence. Or a word. I keep saying this, but 70% of this country cannot do this. Can you imagine? Now, thanks to Peace Corps, I can.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. This is why I love the Peace Corps approach - get to know Malians on their level. Live with them. Learn their language. Learn their culture. Live their culture. Don't rush into work without knowing these things. Well.
Real, meaningful change. Is sloooooowww.
The feel-goodness of a smile. :) :) :) :D
Women are not second class citizens!!! The women here are most of the reason Mali functions on an everyday basis. Women take care of the children. Clean the compound. They're responsible for cooking for the entire family (of 20, in my compound). Which means that they're responsible for cleaning and washing the food. They also usually sell goods on the side - mangoes, dishes, garden vegetables, etc. And they do that by walking all around the village, in flip flops, with 10-40 lbs of goods balanced on their heads and a baby tied to their back. Then, they organize to clean up the village. Their women's associations work together to save money to send all kids to school.
Yet, they are not allowed to be head of their village. Or make decisions. Or, at times, make decisions regarding money. Their husbands can have up to four wives. Women can't. When in front of men, they don't speak out or raise their hands to voice their opinions. They work 5 AM to at least 9 PM every. Single. Day. Yet, they're less educated. Yet, they're treated like the object of their husband. Yet, they get tea last, they get seats last, they get less money than their male counterparts, it's acceptable to hit their wife here. They're considered prostitutes for doing some things men here do every day. WTF???? These women kick ass!! They deserve equality, respect, empowerment. Nothing. I mean, nothing, less.
My life must be devoted to doing work like this in some way. I'm extremely fortunate to be American, middle class, college educated woman who has people who love me and can support me... and I have to find a way to give back for the fortune the world has tossed to me. I have to, I must.
Patience. Dooni dooni. Little by little.
Anything that's ever worth a damn is not easy.
Things are usually not as they seem. I'm learning it's best to check my expectations at the door, because anything could change at any moment.
The joy of reading. R-E-A-D!
The joy of writing ;-)
The joy of crying...
The joy of music
The stories that are published in the newspapers, magazines, news channels, are usually hyped to get reviews/readers. Who writes about how sweet and giving Malians are? Or how women get together to save money so that their kids can go to school? Or that, although many families here are struggling to make ends meet, there are Malians, right here, working their butts off to educate the citizens of their country? Why aren't these stories published? That's Mali - those are Malians. Not the sad, scary stuff that most people see depicted in the news. The real stories are beautiful. And change lives. Definitely, at least, mine.
After lunch naps are soul-rejuvinating.
The pride I feel at times for being American. We are a truly blessed nation, IF, we value what we have, stop the gluttony and work together.
Thank you taxpayers. You get a high national literacy rate. Peace Corps volunteers like me :) Educated citizens. Paved roads and traffic signals to keep us safe. Police officers. A government that may not be perfect, but it does its job. Regulation agencies for food/drinks/etc. We have it really good.
Bob Marley, Michael Jackson and Barack Obama can transcend all educational levels, social classes and even oceans. Music and words as art can be powerful. And unite.
The importance of art and learning creativity. I haven't seen art in the schools here. It doesn't mean it doesn't exist, but Malian culture definitely encourages oneness - which has its pros and cons. It's hard to be creative and uniquely creative when you're trying to be just. like. everyone. else.
But, at the same time - We are all one big family. Love this about Mali.
This is a big one - Our actions, our thoughts, have tangible and invisible consequences. But they all have consequences. When I don't wash my hands with soap - that reinforces that soap isn't necessary. And little kids die here because of dehydration. Because of diarrhea. That they got from dirty food or hands. Every time I feel like I want to have a baditude, I have to check myself - because every action I make, represents all Americans to an entire country of people. That shit has consequences.
Nothing is "Mine" anymore. Malians share absolutely everything - and if they can do it without literally a cent in their pocket, or the CFAs equivalent, I can share everything I have too.
The most touching and life-altering moments usually happen with very few words at all.
No, I cannot do everything by myself.
Absence definitely makes the heart grow fonder. Hand-written letters are a good way to mend it.
How much I appreciate my journalism education and my ability to write. Not write, as in for newspapers or stories, but the fact that I can WRITE. A sentence. Or a word. I keep saying this, but 70% of this country cannot do this. Can you imagine? Now, thanks to Peace Corps, I can.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. This is why I love the Peace Corps approach - get to know Malians on their level. Live with them. Learn their language. Learn their culture. Live their culture. Don't rush into work without knowing these things. Well.
Real, meaningful change. Is sloooooowww.
The feel-goodness of a smile. :) :) :) :D
Women are not second class citizens!!! The women here are most of the reason Mali functions on an everyday basis. Women take care of the children. Clean the compound. They're responsible for cooking for the entire family (of 20, in my compound). Which means that they're responsible for cleaning and washing the food. They also usually sell goods on the side - mangoes, dishes, garden vegetables, etc. And they do that by walking all around the village, in flip flops, with 10-40 lbs of goods balanced on their heads and a baby tied to their back. Then, they organize to clean up the village. Their women's associations work together to save money to send all kids to school.
Yet, they are not allowed to be head of their village. Or make decisions. Or, at times, make decisions regarding money. Their husbands can have up to four wives. Women can't. When in front of men, they don't speak out or raise their hands to voice their opinions. They work 5 AM to at least 9 PM every. Single. Day. Yet, they're less educated. Yet, they're treated like the object of their husband. Yet, they get tea last, they get seats last, they get less money than their male counterparts, it's acceptable to hit their wife here. They're considered prostitutes for doing some things men here do every day. WTF???? These women kick ass!! They deserve equality, respect, empowerment. Nothing. I mean, nothing, less.
My life must be devoted to doing work like this in some way. I'm extremely fortunate to be American, middle class, college educated woman who has people who love me and can support me... and I have to find a way to give back for the fortune the world has tossed to me. I have to, I must.
Patience. Dooni dooni. Little by little.
Anything that's ever worth a damn is not easy.
Things are usually not as they seem. I'm learning it's best to check my expectations at the door, because anything could change at any moment.
The joy of reading. R-E-A-D!
The joy of writing ;-)
The joy of crying...
The joy of music
The stories that are published in the newspapers, magazines, news channels, are usually hyped to get reviews/readers. Who writes about how sweet and giving Malians are? Or how women get together to save money so that their kids can go to school? Or that, although many families here are struggling to make ends meet, there are Malians, right here, working their butts off to educate the citizens of their country? Why aren't these stories published? That's Mali - those are Malians. Not the sad, scary stuff that most people see depicted in the news. The real stories are beautiful. And change lives. Definitely, at least, mine.
Laura tht was a beautiful post. I think one of your best. How are you? sounds like you're doing everything right. I hope you're really happy. Thanks for the blog. Everytime I read one of these I feelashamed that I have what I do but then I have to remember they are used t it and we are not. Love you.
ReplyDeleteOMG! I can't believe how good this is.I'm calling some of my friends who are involved with humanitarian issues. I'm really proud. I have one address I'm going to try and send a link to your blog or I can give you the address through your mom. I'm here with Patti and Take care.
ReplyDeleteYou-Go-Girl!
Lindy