Ughhhh homesick

I usually don't blog on the spot, but now I feel like I will because what I'm feeling is intense. I am HOMESICK. Like, bad.

It's the double-edged sword of having technology here in the middle of Africa. It's great because you can see what everyone is doing, see pictures, videos, updates, etc, but it's a tease also. I looked at old pictures, and I caught up on some local news in Kansas politics.

I saw that my Congressman is still accepting big corporate Koch brothers money, and defending their interests in Congress...I saw that the political candidate I used to work for was giving a speech on constitutional issues...I saw old pictures of KU basketball games with students flooding the stands with the Kansan basketball posters...I looked at old pictures of my besties when we were at KU...and I watched a choppy video of my niece walking around my sister's house making the cutest baby noises...AND her hair is turning brown!

I have to remember stuff like why we took this photo - Huit Mars - aka International Women's Day - the day in which we celebrated a move toward women's empowerment. We talked our host brothers into helping us cook dinner. That's what this picture is - eating the woso fries and fried plantains we made for huit Mars.

I miss these things so much, and I miss physical contact, such as hugging. I miss making fun of my best friend and telling her she's crazy. I miss my guy friends. I miss my groups of friends. I miss skyping with my family and seeing their faces. I miss KU basketball and Lawrence.

I have to remember this too - this is an activity we did during training in which the trainees wrote down the top values of Americans and Malians and our homologues wrote their top values as Malians. I loved this activity because it showed how we may have differences, but, in reality, we all want the same thing. And it's about understanding each other, expanding.

Just like every time I have homesickness, it will change. It will go away. I know the feeling is not permanent. I know that I have a lot of support back at home. But most of all, I know that when I endure, and I rock out my work here, all the moments of homesickness, all the bad food, all the dirt in my nose, it will all be worth it.It's about something bigger, something that I can't see now, but I will know when I see it.

This feeling is totally normal. We're all probably going through it in one way or another. Peace Corps does a great job of informing us on culture shock, coping mechanisms and support structures. For me, it's been music, jogging, alone time, reading, journaling and spending time with my host family that gets me through the tough patches of time.

This experience has already totally changed me, and has definitely changed the course my life will take after I complete my service. I've talked a lot about literacy, women's empowerment, education, as themes that keep popping up and are fields I want to pursue after my service.

Huit Mars -we were special guests to the local school. Here we are at the school, with all the women in their beautiful huit Mars outfits. 

When I feel sad or homesick, or frustrated, I always remember some great advice: This is about something bigger. This is about something bigger than all the sadness, homesickness and frustration I will ever feel in only two years. It's about peace and friendship. It's about new perspectives. It's about learning and growing. It's about being there, being present. It's bigger than whatever I feel that seems hard.

Anyway, tomorrow morning we go back to homestay for a little less than two weeks. After homestay we come back to Tubaniso for a week and then it's SWEAR IN! Swear in is the official event in which we are sworn in as formal Peace Corps volunteers, upon completing Pre-service training. After swear in, we go to site and start in service training (IST). IST is a three month period in which we cannot start any projects, but get to know our community.

In two weeks!

Ramata Coulibali aka Laura Vest

Hiking/Selling popcorn/Bazan PICTURES!

These pics are of three separate events from the beginning of March. The first set of pics is from a SEDDIE group project in which me and two teammates had to sell popcorn in a Malian context. It was a great eye opener into the differences in business in Mali versus American business. Let's just say Malian business is extremely informal compared to how small business is done in the USA.

The second set of pictures is from a hiking trip some of my friends and I did in a neighboring village of our homestay site. Mali is flat like Kansas, except for these big rock formations and cliffs. One day we went to Nyemena, a neighboring village, and climbed around the top of the rock formations and checked out the caves.

The third set of pics are from another SEDDIE field trip we took, but this time, to Bamako. My particular field trip was seeing how a Malian business woman made and sold Bazan, a waxy and expensive fabric here in Mali. She is considered a successful businesswoman, but still, her business operated so differently from that of American business. She worked out of her home, did a lot of the work outside and her employees were related to her, most of them. She did her sales order by order, from France, through the grapevine. There was no marketing, and she operated mostly through word of mouth as her marketing strategy. She learned the trade through her aunt, who took her in as an apprentice. About five or so years into her business, she is still not seeing a profit because the interest on her loan is so high. She pays some taxes to the government, and doesn't consider herself a businesswoman, although she is an independent business woman living and operating her business out of Bamako. That's pretty unique for women here, and shows how successful she's been.

Kabanitigi - aka me, the popcorn owner - selling popcorn up and down the street. That's Marlow in the back selling the same popcorn I was selling to a kid for 25 CFAs. My popcorn was for 100 CFAs, basically a rip off. In the background is the main road that leads to Bamako, in Djialokorobugu, our homestay site.

One of our butikitigi (store owner) customers with his awesome bag of popcorn that we charged him 100 CFAs for. Ha we sold the same popcorn to the kids for 25 CFAs. This just goes to show you how fluid and quickly changing Malian business is. We changed our prices three times for the same product during the day. Also, this is a good shot of the inside of a Malian butiki (shop). 

Two words: MARY TELLEY. Mary Telly is my LCF (language and culture facilitator) and she is the best. I mean, the BEST. She is my language and culture teacher. Anyway, here is Mary Telley, in her Dogon muso outfit, and Sedou, my joking cousin and sho dunna (bean eater) with our kabani. We made Mary Telley pay an extra 50 CFAs for our popcorn just cuz.

These are my homestay site mates with our bags of kabani after we finally sold out to all the school kids. Notice our pagnes (skirts) in Malian fabric. That's the appropriate and popular "pants" for Malian women. 

haha guess who that is? This is me trying to sell popcorn (kabani in Bambara) to the school kids. They didnt like me and bought it all from Marlow. :) But our first marketing technique was to use the most popular American branding tool Ive seen in Mali - Put Barack Obama's name on it. First we called it "Obama Kabani" and then just switched to "Toubab Kabani" because no one really cared. The fact that we were American was probably the only reason we sold any popcorn. They were interested in seeing what Toubabs could do and sell. This project was interesting because we got to see the real differences in Malian business and American business. Most really small Malian businesses operate on the side of the road, or a well-inhabited area with no marketing strategy or strategic plan. That's way far ahead - from what I have seen - Malian businesses need the basics before they can get into marketing or strategic anything. It starts at working with illiterate accounting, counting skills, saving money, forming a plan to pay back the 22% interest on the loan, etc. 

Okay, that one American lady with the hat on - that's Marlow, my homestay neighbor on the day we sold popcorn (we made) to our homestay village, Djialokorobugu. It was for a SEDDIE project to understand doing business in a Malian context. Let's just say we changed our business plan about three different times during the day and found that little kids, right outside their school house, love popcorn for 25 CFAS and no more. This pic is Marlow getting bombarded by dozens of kids. 

Almost to the very top!

C'est moi in a little cave on our hiking trip

Here we are posing in a little cave on our hiking trip. 

 

Two of my friends, Hannah, and Josh, on our hiking trip. Yeah and I am rocking out a Rock Chalk Jayhawk University Daily Kansan T-shirt. ROCK CHALK ALL THE WAY!!

Getting closer to the top of the big rock formations on our hiking trip. You can tell that it looks kind of foggy. Dont be fooled - that's all the dust and sand that's constantly in the air. My friend with asthma is coughing a lot now because it gets in your nose, eyes, ears, throat, etc. Every time I blow my nose, dirt comes out and when I bathe, I have to scrub my skin because it's caked in dirt. Dirt's everywhere here. Including the nose.

Part of the "view" on our hiking trip

Ha I really hiked like this. This is a pic from the village Nyemena, outside of my homestay village. A bunch of PCTs and I went hiking up there. Mali has all these big rock formations and we heard it was good hiking. It was a blast.

This is a pic of Rosie the Riveter in Broadway Cafe, what they call the toubab restaurant. We went to eat there after our Bazan-dying fieldtrip for SEDDIES. I got a caramel milkshake and hamburger for $10 American, or 5,000 CFAs, which is a lot of money for PC salary, but worth it after eating rice, potatoes and TO every day, every meal. 

These are the goodies at the Toubab store in Bamako. The stuff in there is really expensive, but again, worth it. I got some nutella, which I demolished in two weeks, perfume and a bottle of gin. haha the gin is in case of an emergency. 

Here is a finished product, drying under the sunlight. Most Malian fabric doesn't look like this one, but if I could buy this one up, I would. Notice how different her "place of business" looks compared to what It would be like in America. Her product is made outside, dried outside in the sunlight, and is in general, a very informal process compared to American business. 

These are the little dudes and dudettes who hung out with us at the bazan dying expedition. They were the children of the lady who operated the business. Little Malian kids like taking photos and then looking at your camera to see what they look like. I dont blame them, no one has mirrors here!!

More of the bazan dying process. The fabric begins as white, and it is dipped into  these buckets with dye in them. You only know the color of the fabric by the color of the bubbles in the dye. 

What I found visiting my home for the next two years

Hey everyone - there's a lot on my mind these days, with the news of Libya/US, learning my host dad can't read or write and just being so homesick...so for now, Im going to post part of an email/additions I wrote a few days ago. Miss you all so much!


New address!
New and permanent address - all things go HERE from now on (But don't worry - if you've sent anything to my old address, I will still get it)

Laura Vest, PCV

Corps De La Paix

BP 71

Koutiala, Mali

Lately I've thought a lot about what my Peace Corps service means to me. I feel confident saying this is exactly where I should be, doing exactly what I should be doing.


I'm working with a women's association, working on the radio show to promote entrepreneurship and whatever women's empowerment issues are up front at the time. I live with a host family at site, a host family that has a set up that is rare from the others I've seen in Mali. 


All of my family's kids are going to school. Like, up to high school level. And the girls are going too. And the two oldest, one guy, one gal, might be going to college in Bamako. The daughters aren't married off yet, and they don't have children. The oldest son isn't married. And they're learning how to read. Even at 18 years old. 


Yes, that set-up, that set-up is unlike one I have seen in Mali. Ugh, I could go on about this subject...but I don't feel like I have the emotional strength to do it right now. Anyway, here are some thoughts from the other day...

Feeling a little different 
Taking the attitude is everything and you get out of it what you put into it approach has served me well so far. So far, I am definitely a stronger, wiser and more open minded person. I am more patient and my sense of humor has broadened. When my homologue tells me I eat so many beans every day that the beans would fill up her concession, or when a man's sweaty, stinky armpit is in my face on the bush-taxi ride, when Im sitting there stuttering in French, english and Bambara because I can't think of my words...and I laugh, it's a really great lesson. Sense of humor is key. I keep thinking about what my friends and family would say had I told them these same stories (like when the nasty fish water bursted open on me on the bus ride to Bamako and I smelled like a gross river for two hours on the rest of the ride...but I digress)...and I think they'd laugh, so it makes me laugh.


SITE...my home for the next two years
Site is great. It's 35k away from my regional/transit house. The regional house (NOT my site), is a place with shade, running water, a kind of shower, couches, ceiling fans and Internet. That's like a freaking mansion compared to anything else I've seen in Mali so far. So it's pretty close and costs me $2 to get there from my site. My site is soooo different from homestay and I am constantly pleasantly surprised by the town and my living situation. 


For example, my first night in site, I ate a tomato and cucumber salad!!!!! THIS IS HUGE! First of all, I haven't had much of anything for vegetables at all since I've been in Mali and Sikasso is kind of the shit when it comes to access to veggies and fruit. Secondly, randomly, my host  family (of whom I also live in their concession) are able to get solar power at night and turn on a big light so we don't have to use those dang kerosene lamps. 


Third, the biggest shocker, was that at dinner my first night at site, my host dad pulled out a TELEVISION. This wasn't like the car-battery-plugged black and white fuzzy tvs I've seen in Mali. This tv was legit. Not only was it not fuzzy, but its was COLOR tv AND...there was a channel in English!

As shocking as this was for me, I don't want to watch TV while Im here, so Ill keep that to a minimum. My host family will only watch the English channel with me because they think it makes me happy. It's actually very cute how they keep it on the English channel because they are trying to be good hosts. Haha the other night they had a channel where all the characters were white and Im pretty sure they were speaking German. My host dad kept it on the channel and was wondering why I wasn't into the show. Finally, he said, "It's English, right?" and I told him I thought it was German, so he turned it. 


Host family
Ok - for my host family set up. First off, I live in the same concession as a family. Some volunteers have their own concessions, and their host family is their neighbor or lives somewhere in their town. I actually live in the same space as my family. It's also different because at homestay, I don't have a host dad. He passed away. At site, I have the "male head of the household", host dad, at least one wife, and between 12-18 kids. Im still learning everyone's names, relation to the family, etc.

It's really interesting bc my host dad works at the radio station where Ill be working on my secondary project. He has his own radio show on Mondays and talks on the radio with other people most of the other days of the week. My second day at site he brought me to the radio station and I greeted the village ON the radio, in Bambara! 


The next day I met him at the radio station and sat in while he did a radio show with three women and another man. All in Bambara. I obviously didn't really understand much of anything they were saying, but I could tell that it was some skit about going to each other's houses because they kept acting like they were knocking on doors. what was funny was that they included the full set of greeting Malians always do, to each time they went to another person's house. That's about as far as I got on that show. Doni Doni as we like to say in Bambara = little by little. Perfect saying for something like Peace Corps.

Anywho, my first day there, my homologue took me to meet the dugutigi, the president of the women's cooperative Ill be working with, the mayor and various households around town. For lunch I ate tomato and cucumber and onion salad with bread. Yum. Best meals I've had so far in Mali. No TO for me.

My second day, I hung out, visited with another PCV in my area who came to visit. This visit was interesting because we got proposed to by a cekoroba = old man. This old man was so annoying and persistent. He was saying how he liked us both and we should get cekorobas like him, blablabla. But it went on for almost an hour. Finally we told him he ate too many beans and he was a bad person, and everyone in the butiki erupted in laughter. 


Getting proposed to...again
Then another dude started up, proposing and talking about how he wanted to go to America with us. That happens a lot. And a lot of people want you to either take them to America or teach them English. I can't speak for every Malian, but for the Malians I have spoken to about America, there is a lot of them saying they love America because Barack Obama, or think that in America, they will magically have a bunch of money. The views I have seen of America are very limited, so that's where Peace Corps comes in. I take this opportunity to tell them that there are poor people in America, people work  hard, and anything is possible - such as men cooking, women working outside the home or children watching 5 hours of TV a day. Oh, America. I digress.

After the visit with the other vol, my homologue and I went to my neighbor and president of the onion drying coop I work with, to her house to meet the women of the coop. They were all lovely but I know it's going to take a lot of time for them to get to know me, me to get to know them, and thus, build their trust. A lot of vols have the problem of the people they work with thinking they're just there to hand out wads of cash, which is anti-Peace Corps. 


Peace Corps is community development and empowerment through using the resources at hand. Basically after that I ko'd (bucket bathed it up) and sat outside of my concession with what started out to be my dogomuso (younger sister), her friend, and two little neighbor girls. Next thing I know, Im being handed a plate of woso (sweet potatos) and there are 10-15 kids crowded around me. When I would wave or make eye contact with them they would laugh, look down and turn away, or whisper something shyly to their friend and laugh. The kids multiplying and staring at you happens every day, several times a day. One second Im around two kids, and literally within a few minutes, 10-20 kids are around  you.

My host sister sells woso fries outside our concession with her friend. They're 15-17 years old. She does this after being at class all day. Their classes operate in French and Bambara, with some English, no books or handouts and just basically yelling out what they should be writing down without a lot of explanation. My neighbor girl is awesome - everytime i would greet someone and they wouldnt greet me back - she would get all defensive for me and say "HEY the American muso greeted you! Greet her!" for me every time. (Muso is woman, and greeting is of upmost importance here. I probs greet 100 times a day or more)

After this, I ko'd again, in my own personal nyegen, which is very great. Then I went out on the patio and my neighbor girl, whose name I think is Oumou, came over to me because I had my Bambara book out. She started reading out loud, the words in Bambara and english.



Reading aloud...why this is significant
For the average American, may be thinking - what, what's the big deal about that? But no. Not here. It's pretty great that all the kids in my host family are being educated to a high school level - especially the girls. and it's also a pretty big deal that they're all learning great french - especially the girls. A lot of times girls miss out on an education because they have kids at age 16-20, or they're married and working in the home. Or they're working to support their family. Again, this is just what I've learned about Mali so far. This varies by region, socioeconomic class, etc. 


I just know that there is a disproportionate number of girls who are not educated, compared to their male counterparts. It's also a huge deal that she could read. What I have seen so far, is that when you have any sort of reading materlal - book, dictionary, printed words on paper, the Malian students I have seen eat it up. Because they don't get to read in school. we have a seddie section on illiterate accounting. Illiteracy is a big problem here.

So, I loved sitting down with Oumou, and watching her read out loud. After each completed sentence, I'd go "OWO!" or "A ka ne!!" (yes/very good) and she'd look at me, smiling, accomplished. She's my buddy. I definitely get the impression that trying to tackle some illiteracy projects/education projects here is going to be right up my alley. But, we'll see.

Anyway, I stayed up late with my host brothers and sisters, teaching them English and them teaching me Bambara and French. Again, all the kids in my family go to school, and they are the best students!! It's a big, big deal that they might go to college too. And my host sister said she was going to college. I am really happy to be living with them. 


Last day at site
I didn't want to leave, but know that I still have a lot to learn before I come back and am on my own for two years. My last day of site was great. It started with leaving the transit house in Koutiala (where I wrote this entire blog, and am now adding the final details, a few days later) on public transportation by myself. When I got back to site, I called my homologue to have her meet me, because I don't know my way around site yet. And you know me - I get lost every now and then :) 


Why you should never stop in front of a school house
When I called my homologue, I thought, oh, Ill meet her at the school house. Because it's a marker in town. BIG MISTAKE. I freaking disrupted 100s of kids trying to learn! There's a thing in Mali, where little kids are not used to seeing Americans/white people. They call us "TOUBABU" - which means "white person" in Bambara, but generally refers to any American/French/etc person. The kids commonly scream it out, chant it, or whisper it and wave frantically at you. It's somewhat annoying, because all they see is your skin color, but when you look over at the kids, they're smiling at you, waiting for you to wave at them back. God it is cute.


I sit in front of the school house, waiting for my homologue, directly in front of the school house. I will never do that again. Next thing I know, a stampede of kids come pouring out of the school house, rushing toward me. At least 50 kids stood there, gathered around me in a perfect circle. Some were saying "TOUBABU" and the others were staring. The kids here just stare at you and most say nothing. It was so embarassing, but I decided to take this moment with 50 kids, a captive audience, to tell them not to call me a Toubab, that my name is Ramata Coulibali, and to call me that instead, and that school is so good that they should go back and keep learning. (I changed my last name, Ill get to that later).


Next thing I know, a kid brings a chair out for me, because the guest getting the best seat is big here. And then, Im sitting in a chair, outside, in front of a school house, with 50 kids standing around me. Im thinkiing - where the hell are their teachers? Anyway, it was hilarious, and I learned to never stop in front of a school house again :) 


The plan to domesticate me and marry me off
I swear my host family has this plan to domesticate me and marry me to one of their friends. I've done a good job at site of not wearing pants at site (and I mean, wearing long skirts instead, because it's more gendered role/Malian appropriate. Malian women, unless they live in a big city or Bamako, almost never wear pants, but pagnes and long skirts and dresses) and not publicly displaying my obvious hatred of cooking and cleaning. But my family has caught on, haahah. Im kidding, but my host mom taught me how to sew, and on my last day, after asking me to cook with them, they asked me again. So I helped cook some noodles over the fire, and that was my contribution to the cooking situation. They also want me to wear Malian dresses and get married to all these dudes they bring over to our houses. Hell, they even joke that Im going to marry my host dad, which is really awkward. So, on my last day at site, I figured Id cook with them. So, I broke up some noodles and that was that. 


Dance parties
But my last night at site ended up with a dance party with my host brothers and sisters and learning some Malian dance moves while teaching really outdated and somewhat embarassing American dance moves. Something I've learned about Malians is that the best way to get them to warm up to you is to dance with them or have a dance party. It's also just great for the mood in general. In fact, Malians have a rule that if you're late to a meeting, you have to either buy kola nuts and give them to the dugutigi or president of the meeting, or you have to dance. 


Right before I went to bed, I sat with my host sisters, my neighbor girls, their guy friend and a couple random little kids (again, the little kids are everywhere, and they're very curious to know what the American muso is doing). My host sisters are Howa, 17 and Asetu, 16, and my neighbor, Oumou, is 16ish. Their guy friend, whose first name I don't remember, but last name I do, Jaara, because he's my joking cousin. ***Side note: Now that Im a Coulibali, literally every Malian without the last name Coulibali is my joking cousin. This means I can make fun of basically every Malian and tell them they eat beans, they're my donkey and other random insults. I digress. 


So, we all sat in a circle with all of them staring at me and waiting for me to do something. For a while, all the older kids asked me about America. I have trained my host siblings on where Kansas is in America (cemance la = at the center of) and what Kansas people do (Senneke = cultivate/grow, Fenw be buru kono = things inside bread - Idk the word for wheat in Bambara). So, they would ask me questions, and I would ask them questions back. They asked me about men cooking and women working. I told them it was all possible in America. Men cook all the time, women work outside the home all the time. 


Next thing I know, Im learning/watching a version of the Malian Electric Slide. They're good at this. They taught me some of the moves. Afterward, we got into a Malian dance circle. In Mali, when you dance, you get into a big circle, and people take turns dancing in the middle of the circle while the others cheer the person on. Well, for me, every move I did set the tone for the rest of the people to copy. First I did an American style sink to the ground slowly move, and they all did it after me. Then it was the robot. Haha, Im being serious. Then I would wave my arms above my head and dance. Then I would pump my fists up like some good news arrived. And each time, they ALL copied my dance moves and tried them out on their own. 


First, Im not a great dancer, so this is even embarassing for me to write about...but they seemed to love it. And they taught me their version of the Electric Slide. Second, it was a great bonding experience with my host sisters. After that dance party, we promised each other that when I get back to site in three weeks, we would have dance parties like that every Friday. 


I can do that :) 

A taste of homestay life in Mali

This is the process of bazan dying. Bazan is the nicest fabric in Mali. It's a shiny, waxy fabric that Malians only wear for the finest occasions, such as Baptisms, weddings or meeting important guests. For a SEDDIE field trip, we visited a woman's compound who dyed and sold bazan. This is her business in her home. 

On our way to Tubaniso for another training! These are my cluster mates Marlow and Josh!!

Bamako street vendors. Oh and that car is probably a Mercedes. Mercedes are everywhere here.

Driving through Bamako - this is one of many street vendors

Me and my host bros Ba and Muhammed!! 

This is me and Maman, she's my neighbor girl and she always comes to my compound. I taught her how to dance American style and play frisbee. She's a sweetie.

This is right outside of my compound's walls. The tin doors are the entrance to Marlow, another PCT's house. She has the crazy, vicious donkeys I hate that scream in the night. 

Welcome to my house! This is the entrance of my compound.

This is our well! This is the water I use for bathing/salidaga/washing clothes

Trash - Mali doesn't have a trash pick up system, so everyone just throws their trash on the ground. This is right outside my compound.

Our donkey cart. These are a major source of transportation here in Mali. They're all over the village and the road.

Marlow, me and Josh in our classroom

My compound, the washboard for laundry, one of our donkeys and that dog

My host bro, Ba, at our compound

THIS IS MY HOUSE!!

My compound on Sunday - laundry day. The bucket looking things in the back are the thing women pound grains/herbs in. clothes are washed in buckets outside with a washboard.

This is the random dog with a rotten ear that lives with us. This is the only breed of dog I've seen in Mali. They all look the same!!

Call me Ramata Samake and you eat beans

So, here's a post about culture from the end of February as well. More and newer posts...And pictures!!! To come. PS - sorry for the bad spelling and grammar. I am constantly brain dead, but no worries, because all is well!! The three languages, constant sweat and 120 degree heat just makes me tired. All is well in Africa!

Host family

My host family is AWESOME!! It’s my host mom, and her five kids, one of their kids and their aunt’s daughter in my compound. And they are so gracious, giving and kind. There is Modibo, the oldest son, who's 23 years old, Muhammed, the second oldest, who's 20, Oumou, the oldest and only daughter, who's 18. Oumou has a little guy (son), named Zoumana, who's 2. Zoumana is my terice (friend), and he goes around telling everyone I am a stupid lady who puts buckets on his head. Haha this is true, except for the stupid part. This little guy usually runs around without pants and he cries all the time, but he's so cute and he calls me "Atta." After Oumou is Bafin. Bafin is 16 and he and I joke the most. He is ornery, so Im constantly making fun of him in French and Bambara. Then there's Ba, who's 11. He's ornery too, but a sweetie. And the youngest, besides Zoumana, is Nene, who's a 7 year old girl. She's the daughter of their aunt and one of my friends too. You'll probably get the hint that Peace Corps vols become fast friends with little kids. We're at the same level in language, cultural integration, skills, etc. Ha this is so true. 

Waking up in Mali: CULTURE!!

There’s so much to talk about here…Malians are really sweet people. They are kind like I had read. They love, love, love family, to greet, be gracious hosts and cleanliness (cleanliness is relative).

Weather and DUST, DUST and more DUST

As you might have seen in my last post with the pictures, dust is pretty big here. Red dust is on everything and your feet get prett-ay dirty thoughout the day. Which is totally uncool to Malians who cherish clean appearances, so you’ll find me washing my feet with salidaga water throughout the day. Haha I really do that.

 But really, the dust is so bad that when you blow your nose it’s all snot and red dirt. Gross, huh? J And I have to SCRUB my bod in the bucketshower. Because dirt is caked on your body no matter what you do.

It’s pretty hot here. I’d say between 90 and 120 every day. But my friend Josh is saying 105 each day. And it’s only getting hotter. Hot season is fast approaching and it will soon be 130 degrees out. Think Arizona plus dust in your eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

Cleanliness

Keeping up appearances and cleanliness are important aspects to Malian culture. One must wash hands before and after each meal. Clothes are very important here. Malians will put on their best outfits to meet a guest. Clothes cannot be wrinkled or noticeably dirty. There is a shiny, waxy fabric that is pricy here, that Malians (who can afford it) like to wear for important events and to look nice for guests. It's called Bazan.

The salidaga must always go into the nyegen with you, whether you use it or not. No touching others or food with the left hand. Bathing is not optional. Haha which is a really good thing considering how hot it is here. My host family makes me “n ko” (bathe in Bambara) as soon as I get home from school every day. It’s actually quite like a little kid. I can’t communicate, I grunt and point for things I need when I don’t have the French, English or Bambara to communicate, I have to be told when I can and can’t do things, someone is making everything for me – food, getting my water, laundry, etc, just like a toddler. Anyway, keeping up appearances and cleanliness are important aspects to Malian culture.

Obama…cabs, toothbrushes…COOKIES??!!

Yes. You read that right. There are President Obama cabs, toothbrushes, cookies, hair salons, suitcases, purses, clothes, fabric…Obama is on everything here.  In the meeting we had today at a lady’s house who dyes fabric for a living, she had a picture of Obama hanging in her house. I don’t really think a lot of Malians know what Obama stands for, but they love him. Personally, Im happy to be in a place where he is so loved, unlike Kansas, where Obama was hated. Haha just wait for me and my Obama outfit. I will def post pictures!! J

BUGS

I’ve touched on the cockroach situation. After just a few days here, someone said they have already seen a tarantula. Not good. And apparently there are scorpions everywhere. At our last session in Tubaniso, Dr. Dawn, the PCMO, advised us to “always look up, down, left and right” when entering any building in Mali as a warning for the creatures that can lurk around in our living spaces. There are ants, crickets and mosquitos everywhere. By the way, I am on a DAILY malaria medication. We have to always wear mosquito repellant and take our malaria meds either daily or weekly. Oh yeah, and flies, ants and mosquitos are always in the nyegen. Blister beetles also.

Animals are everywhere

Animals are EVERYWHERE – lizards all over the walls, donkeys, dogs, chickens, pigeons frogs, roosters, sheep, goats, cows, bulls. In my compound, we have two donkeys, a dog, a bunch of chickens, pigeons and three goats. The pigeons always stomp around on my tin roof all day and it’s quite loud. It sounds, literally, like it's raining rocks on my roof in the morning. But no, it's just the fat ass pigeons. Donkeys scream in the middle of the night. It sounds like they’re mating or being slaughtered. I don’t even hear it anymore. Haha I have learned that in Peace Corps Mali, in some villages, you have to get used to a lot of noise at night. I can sleep through Malians joking and yelling, playing games, donkeys mating and children crying all night without a stir.

3^rd Party System

Malians are indirect communicators. In America, we are direct communicators and we say exactly what we mean, what we want, without nuance or question. Mali is a different story. Malians, if having a problem with a person, will go through what is called a 3^rd party system. They will bring in a 3^rd person to talk to the other person and the other person will relay the message for the second person. We do this with our LCFs (Language and culture facilitators), when they come to our homestay homes to visit and see how things are going. They ask us how things are going, and they ask our families. If there are any problems, the message is relayed through the LCF, and never directly from me to my family or directly from my family to me.

Malian Names – Just call me Ramata Samake

Names are big in Mali. One of the first things we learned in Bambara is “I togo” and “I Jamu.” These mean what is your name and what is your last name. The trainees, upon meeting their host families, are given Malian names. We’re usually named after the father or mother in the family, or a special name after someone in the community or family. I was named after my host mom, Ba (Mother) Ramata Samake. AKA my Malian name, and by name I mean the ONLY name I am called by Malians in my village, is Ramata Samake (Rahm-ah-ta Sahm-ah-kay).

It’s a pretty sweet name when Malians say it because they roll their Rs and it sounds super smooth (Rrramataa). The PCTs (Peace Corps trainees) in my village are named Fatimata, Monmarie, Alison.

Ha so my family have all named me after my host mom, so one day, after barely being able to pronounce anyone’s names, I just gave them all American names. I named them after my family too. So Modibo, the oldest son, is Ryan, after my bro. Muhammed is Dan. Oumou is Jamie. Ramata is Patti. Ba is John (random American name). Bafin is Chris. And I name random friends of theirs who come over. Bafin’s friend is Dennis. Modibo’s friend is Joe. It’s actually really funny when you’re calling them by these super American names while they call us by our Malian names.

The other thing, is people have asked our names a lot. One reason names are a big part of the Malian culture is because of the relationship with joking cousins. You determine your joking cousin by their last name. My joking cousins are the Konates and Keitas.

Joking cousins – You eat beans and you are my donkey

So beans and donkeys are big here in Mali. But really, these two things have a lot to do with Malian culture. There is this thing called joking cousins here, in which certain families with certain last names can joke with each other and say things like “You eat beans” (I be sho dun in Bambara), or “You are my donkey” (I ye n ka fali ye in Bambara). Something I have learned is it doesn’t take much to make Malians laugh. They think everything is pretty funny, especially when you tell someone they are a bean eater or they are your child after you find out you’re joking cousins.  This is also why people ask for your name so often.

Some (actually pretty funny) jokes to say to joking cousins: You eat beans (by far the most common – in fact, my friend Josh here was asked the other night if he ate beans. It happens a lot). You are my donkey. You are my child. I am your father. I am your mother. I have told my joking cousin, one of whom works for Peace Corps as a Malian LCF/teacher/trainer, that he eats beans. My host bro always asks me if I like beans. I’m in my head thinking, “How do I answer this question?” haha I always say comme ci, comme ca so I don’t come off as this huge bean eater or something.

THINGS TO SEND!! (If you are so kind and loving of people living on $180/mo in Africa to serve our country J J J

--American food!!! This includes non-perishable Little Debbie brownies, Oatmeal cream pies, granola bars, Pringles, beef jerky, candy (blow pops, gum, jolly ranchers, etc), spray can cheese, peanut butter bars, etc. I am REALLY happy I brought this stuff with me…but my supply is diminishing daily J

--LETTERS FROM YOU!! I would fall over if I got a letter. I couldn’t explain how awesome it would be to hear from someone, anyone, about your life and what’s going on in America. I miss everyone a lot and a letter would mean a lot!!

MY ADDRESS (for next 1 month):

Laura Vest, PCT

Le Corps de la Paix

BP 85

Bamako, Mali

West Africa

--Emergen-c, powdered drink mixes such as Hawaiian punch, powerade, Gatorade

--American magazines! People, Cosmo, Rolling Stone, Glamour, Marie Clare, US Weekly…don’t really care, just want some idea of the crap going on in America and good pictures to look at.

Specifically to my mom: I need my KU sweatshirt!! Believe it or not, at night and early in the morning it gets chilly here. It’s the KU sweatshirt I wore on my last night in KS. The grey one with blue KANSAS across the front. I also want that pink and white long dress I left at home. Also, I need some cute shirts!! Please send me my tube top blue dress I wore to my going away party, the black, sparkly, loose shirt, and any other cute, kind of going out-type shirt that’s not going to suffocate me in the heat. LOVE U.

PLEASE!!! Write me letters, emails, anything!! It means a LOT more than you know!! Everyone’s support so far has been so crazy and humbling and I really appreciate it. Hearing from people warms my heart and makes me happy, so keep it up!!! And I LOVE American snacks!! J

Peace!!

Laura AKA Ramata Samake

Mutant cockroaches, carbs and gender roles

Ok I have about 6 posts to post, but Internet is unreliable and last time I was in Tubaniso, I couldn't post. So the next posts will go in several posts. Here's a post about culture shock from the end of February...

There is so much to talk about that it’s hard to know where to start. The first thing is that I am safe and happy. Peace Corps tells us a lot that the most successful volunteers come in with low or no expectations…and that has served me very well so far. Take it easy and go with the flow. Know that things will change and every day might feel like a roller coaster of emotion. Haha this is so true!

For this first post, I want to focus on some of the culture shock aspects and the things that…take some getting used to.

I do have to say that there are a few things that jump out to me: I really miss American food, the gender roles are something to get used to (you know me) and the nyegen situation is also…something to get used to. We did a homework assignment on culture shock and I wrote that there isn’t anything that’s particularly devastating for me to adjust to, but there are a few smaller things that take time to get used to.

Culture shock

American food:

We eat almost the exact  same thing every day. Day after day. For example, bread (with peanut butter sometimes) and two hard boiled eggs for breakfast, with sugar tea (tea is BIG here, esp with a shots worth of sugar). Lunch usually consists of beans or rice with sauce or TO. Yes, I said TO. TO is my least favorite thing to eat. It is millet porridge-type malt-o-meal cereal-y stuff and Malians eat it a lot. With a green, slimy sauce or a red sauce with meat in it. But, I eat it, because it’s part of the experience, and hey…I’m eating. For dinner, we usually eat potatoes or rice with sauce or TO with sauce. But usually potatoes. That is the food I’ve experienced here thus far. You may be wondering, where are the vegetables or fruit? Or juice? Yeah…doesn’t really exist, at least in homestay. And the food all tastes the same. Kind of spicy, very salty. Someone gave me a Snickers yesterday and I literally screamed when I got it!! It sounded like I was having a baby or something when my friend gave me that Snickers. So, my healthy supply of granola bars, oatmeal cream pies and brownies have been a real treat after bread, TO and potatoes all day. When they said we’d be eating all carbs, they meant ALL CARBS. Ok, that’s my rant on the food so far.

Gender roles:

We all knew the whole gender role thing was going to take some adjusting for me, but this is also exactly why I wanted to join the Peace Corps. I want to understand, at the experiential level, gender inequality on a completely different level than I had experienced in the States.

Gender roles here are strict. And we discuss them almost every day. They’re apparent as I watch my host sister, Oumou, wash all the family’s clothes on Sunday while her brothers sit there in the sun and baroke fe (chat). They’re apparent as we watched in class one day (my classroom under the shade of a tree in a soccer field with donkeys, bulls, goats, chickens and random fowl), a woman crossing the soccer field with a bundle of sticks balancing on her head. As she walked slowly, a (shirtless I might add) man came sprinting to her, like you would in an emergency, just to grab the bundle of sticks for her because the heavy lifting is the “work of men.” The gender roles are apparent as I sit with my host family for dinner at night. My brothers and their friends (all men) sit on the other side of the compound, while the women, after they had just cooked the meal, sit together. Dinner time can be integrated, but I get the impression that usually it is not. 

Gender roles are prevalent as I chat with a Malian and he is lecturing on how to be a man to my friend. “I will find you a wife here,” he says. When discussing children, he suggests having many children (remember the average number of children per woman is 7 children here), as ways to “be a man.” In addition, in our cultural handbooks, there was a note on the Malian family that is is not uncommon for men to beat their wives. A note on this: None of the people in my village have seen this. I actually doubt that the practice is that common, but it is interesting that it was included as a cultural lesson.  

In Mali, women usually do the cooking, cleaning and child raising while men work. It is not uncommon for men to have more than one wife and many children. In my host family, I live with my host mom, Ramata Samake, her oldest son Modibo, second oldest son Muhammed, Bafin, Ba and Oumou the only daughter, her son Zoumana, and their cousin, Nene. So, in just my family, I have five children. My neighbor, and fellow Peace Corps trainee, has literally 40 people living in her compound. She thinks there are three wives with about 10 kids each.

Ok…the topic you’re all salivating over…just kidding.

The Nyegen, aka toilet/bucket bath area.

The nyegen. The bathrooms here are usually open-roofed cement structures with a hole in the cement where your waste goes. There’s no TP in there (I keep a stash on me everywhere I go), but instead the salidaga is used. A salidaga looks like what you’d water plants with, and Malians fill it up with water as their source of wiping. This is why Malians NEVER use their left hands for shaking hands, touching food, etc, because the left hand is the hand used in place of toilet paper. One must ALWAYS take the salidaga with you to the nyegen. Or else Malians will think you’re a gross American. Ill talk about the cultural aspects of hygiene and cleanliness later.

The nyegen is also the place for bathing. By bathing, I mean twice a day and I mean bucket baths. I use my drinking cup to pour the water over my head and dip my head in the bucket to soak my hair. I have found that a great way to get my hair back in shape after it’s frying all day in the 100 degree heat, is to leave my conditioner in my hair and not wash it out. You might think, wow, your hair is going to get greasy. But it doesn’t. It’s too dry here. The hair just soaks it up.

There’s also something that’s quite well known…it’s called the HUGE nyegen cockroaches that only creep out at night. It sounds like a fairy tale or something, but it’s true. They’re as big as my big toe! Which is pretty damn big. The first time I fell into contact with the nyegen night cockroaches was a few days ago when I had to go at night and the only other person still up was my host mom. I walk to the nyegen with my salidaga in hand (and hidden TP in my pocket, haha) and right there. Is. The. Biggest. Cockroach. EVER. I actually screamed and ran off while my host mom watched, amused and laughing. Of course I couldn’t communicate in Bambara that there was a mutant cockroach waiting in front of the nyegen, so I reverted to grunting and hand motions haha. She went over there and squashed it with her crutches. I thanked her and went into the nyegen, which had an even bigger problem. THERE WERE FIVE mutant cockroaches sitting around the nyegen hole, where you pee. My host mom heard me scream again and she came in there and stomped around and they were all gone.

That was my last time using the nyegen after dark. Turns out almost all the other trainees I have talked to have experienced the same mutants in the nyegen too.