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)
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 :)
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 :)
Three cheers to the TOUBABU dance parties! The moon walk or some sort of two stepping might go over well. :-)
ReplyDeleteLaura this was so interesting to me, especially the dancing part. Unlike you, I was a pretty good dancer in my time and I love dancing. I miss it. I'm glad that is part of their culture. The marryied thing is a little disturbing and that fish storywas funny but made me feel sort of bad for you. I love you and miss you. Sounds like you're doing a great job.Love mom.
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