When I wake up from a dream that I realized was not, in fact, real.
When I hear songs that remind me of former people, current people and wish, for future people.
When I watched a kid in the first year school look at the class longingly, waiting to get credit for his kindgergarden French he had just written on the board. The teacher was hitting another student with a stick and wasn't paying attention. The other kids were crying, writing on their chalkboards and ripping their clothes off because it was so hot. The kid was trying to find someone, anyone, who was paying attention.
When I realized the equivalent to 50 cents American is a lot of money here.
When I am paraded around like an "American object!!!!" for people to stare at, point at and laugh at.
When I see baby after baby with patchy hair, a pot belly. It has malnutrition.
When I see piles of trash and nyegen run off, sewer green and ancient, discoloring my village.
When students struggle to learn because they have no quiet place to study. Like a library.
When I realized my host dad couldn't read. That was a big one.
When people sit next to me, while I'm reading or studying, and start stuttering and trying to read through whatever materials I have. And I look at them, and they smile. This is one person trying, hard, to break the statistic - 70% of Malians can neither read nor write.
When it dawned on me that the school children didn't have notebooks and writing utensils because they were too expensive.
When I see children with missing and rotten teeth because of either malnutrition or the lack of dental health education here.
When I see an adult with no teeth for the same reason.
When kids sprint after me, screaming, calling out "TOUBABU!" They run after my bike and try to touch my bike. They grab my blond, shiny hair in the marketplace. When I turn around, annoyed, they're waving frantically and smiling ear-to-ear. They just want my attention for a moment.
When I really, really, really miss certain people. A lot. I'm across the world.
When I hear songs that remind me of former people, current people and wish, for future people.
When I watched a kid in the first year school look at the class longingly, waiting to get credit for his kindgergarden French he had just written on the board. The teacher was hitting another student with a stick and wasn't paying attention. The other kids were crying, writing on their chalkboards and ripping their clothes off because it was so hot. The kid was trying to find someone, anyone, who was paying attention.
When I realized the equivalent to 50 cents American is a lot of money here.
When I am paraded around like an "American object!!!!" for people to stare at, point at and laugh at.
When I see baby after baby with patchy hair, a pot belly. It has malnutrition.
When I see piles of trash and nyegen run off, sewer green and ancient, discoloring my village.
When students struggle to learn because they have no quiet place to study. Like a library.
When I realized my host dad couldn't read. That was a big one.
When people sit next to me, while I'm reading or studying, and start stuttering and trying to read through whatever materials I have. And I look at them, and they smile. This is one person trying, hard, to break the statistic - 70% of Malians can neither read nor write.
When it dawned on me that the school children didn't have notebooks and writing utensils because they were too expensive.
When I see children with missing and rotten teeth because of either malnutrition or the lack of dental health education here.
When I see an adult with no teeth for the same reason.
When kids sprint after me, screaming, calling out "TOUBABU!" They run after my bike and try to touch my bike. They grab my blond, shiny hair in the marketplace. When I turn around, annoyed, they're waving frantically and smiling ear-to-ear. They just want my attention for a moment.
When I really, really, really miss certain people. A lot. I'm across the world.
This is sad but I'm with you. You're in the right place I feel even though I'd like to see you. Love and miss you, mom
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