I have sat here thinking, "I would have never thought THIS is what I'm doing with my life."
Such as riding my bike into town behind an old, rusty, squeaking bike. An old, old man, donning tattered clothes, with his prayer cap sitting on the back of his head is riding the bike. And there are little poops dropping from the back of the bike. A goat is tied up into the size of a small box to fit in the basket of the bike and its poop is creating a trail in front of me and my bike.
Or the time I got the funniest text message from my friend Matt, telling me that not only was he sick on the four hour public transport ride, but a chicken puked all over his pants and then died right then and there.
Or the text message I sent my friend, exclaiming that not only did I not have eyelashes, but I was also peed on. More on this at the end.
And what about the re-writing of rap songs that we did in Bamako? My friends and I were sitting on the roof of the Bamako stage house, loudly laughing because we changed all the words of "b*tch" in rap songs to very common animals in Mali. "Move donkey, get out the way, get out the way donkey, get out the way!" Or "There is one thing I know, cats they come they go."
The time I made a list of things I wanted to do to make my experience in Mali more enjoyable. One of them included riding something taller than a horse - so a camel, or the roof of a bus would work. So, my friend and I strapped ourselves onto the roof of a bashi (beaten down, graphitti-d bus) for the six hour bus ride to Manantali. The road is pretty much a river bed. You go about 10 miles per hour. My body was so sore the next day from maneuvering through the mattresses, bikes and luggage secured to the top of the bus. And dodging the slapping tree branches that eventually cut up my face and arms. But, alas, it was such a fun experience.
The training I gave last week to my women at the women's sewing school. It was on the basics of good business. These women are between the ages of 17 and 27, most with babies strapped to their backs and used clothes sent from western countries, who don't understand the French they're writing (if they can write it). I never thought I'd be teaching women as old as 27 years old that planning ahead to open your business, keeping your place of business clean or respecting your clients were keys to good business. Oh, and all in a random West African language.
And, the little creepsters who stalk my every move - scorpion spiders, monster cockroaches and millions of tiny, scheming ants. They're everywhere! If someone would have told me five years ago that I'd be battling flying cockroaches the size of my big toe, spiders almost as big as the palm of my hand that happen to look like scorpions and hammer head sharks, or Rambo'ing (can of pure poison) thousands of little ants a night - I'd have thought they were crazy.
Similarly hitching rides in the back of trucks, sleeping outside in a tent in the sweltering furnace temperatures, swimming with hippos, shaving my head and getting a mohawk, craving salad from a lady on the street corner, turning down marriage proposals every single day, laughing about how funny it is when someone says you sleep in the bathroom, my level of familiarity with diarrhea, living my life "one day at a time," actually knowing about the real Timbuktu, freaking out if I don't drink six liters of water a day, that every sickness is ameliorated by drinking more water, actually saying "This is Africa," the flash mob dance we did to "This is Africa" at the end of the shea bootcamp, falling in love in a hopeless place (Rihanna), singing the National Anthem in the back of a moto-taxi on Thanksgiving, having people break into my house to steal only American candy, living in a hut under a mosquito net, being caged in by screaming kids shouting "white person," laughing about hearing stories about people literally shitting their pants (and it not being uncommon), eating goat liver and heart, breakfast sandwiches of egg, french fries and grease sauce, serving my country, describing my everyday life as an "emotional roller coaster," finding that my greatest support system had become a tiny device called an iPod, or seeing those stars and stripes waving and getting chills.
...this is my life now. And I am grateful for every crazy story I have.
On Thanksgiving, we asked ourselves what we were thankful for.
Last week, I read a line in a book that caused me to deeply reflect on where I stand in the world. The author asked his readers to ponder all the things we have in the world, to show us how truly happy we are. So, I've been thinking about all the things I'm blessed to have in my life.
I am thankful that I chose this experience.
Being here, I have realized that I am indeed, one of the richest and most educated people in the world. That is stunning to wrap my mind around.
And I live in a place, speaking their language, practicing their culture, living with them, eating with them, in a place where up to 75% of the country cannot read or write and most live off of less than $1 a day.
I am thankful that I can read and write. Today, as I wrote (at normal cursive-writing pace) the name of a restaurant, La Deliverance, my friend remarked how great I could write. He was having difficulty writing people's names.
I am thankful that I am from a country that believes (although there is still a very long way to go), in equality for all people. A country where I don't get forced to have my genitals cut off and am obligated to marry a kid I don't know when I'm as young as 13 years old. And that I can get a job, be president, be a preacher, wear the clothes of my choosing, speak up in meetings, have as many kids or no kids, get through the 5th grade, can have male friends, don't have to go into prostitution, am not seen strictly as my dad or husband's pet/object/worker. America is not perfect, but we are damn lucky.
I am thankful that I have both of my parents. That my parents show me love and affection. That they don't hit me or put me to work, taking care of babies at the age of five. I am thankful that they are both in good health and that we all know how to use computers to Skype and keep in touch. Here, Malians will always ask you if you have both of your parents. I guess it's because it is so common here to be my age and not have both of your parents.
I am thankful for my own health. If I get malaria, I can go to the Peace Corps med office and take medicine right away, for free. Most Malians have no luxury of this kind. I have had education on good nutrition my entire life, on good dental health, on good physical exercise. And being here I know that I need vitamins, veggies, fruits, protein, to maintain my healthy weight. Millions of others in this country don't ever get the adequate nutrients they need in their diets - their entire lives. The average life expectancy here is in the late 40s. Americans' are in the late 70s. We live an average of almost 30 years, three decades, longer than the average Malian! Whoa.
I am thankful that the education of my country teaches its students how to think critically and creatively. We are innovators and we contribute to the global economy. We are taught to challenge assumptions, do research and think for ourselves. We are encouraged to think outside the box and never give up. We are told that the sky is the limit and that we can do and be anything we want to be. We are not pigeon-holed and we are not socially nudged to do things one way. You know, it's easy to take stuff like this for granted. But here, they only memorize in school. It's not explained. They're not taught they can be anything, or to think for themselves, or to be creative and express themselves.
At home in America, I have clean drinking water, electricity, paved roads, cars, bank accounts, healthy family, hospitals with real doctors, Barack Obama as my president, things that start on time, real buses and safe transport with seat belts and doors that open, clean, regulated food that doesn't give me Mr. D, libraries, lights, clean toilets that aren't bug-infested holes in the ground, hand washing with soap, enough teachers, reading and writing, small change, job opportunities, politicians we can actually elect, women and human rights, choices, multi-culturalism, police who aren't corrupt, government and security forces who don't operate on bribes...
I love Malians like my own family. No, I don't agree with every way of life here, but the people and culture here have taught me so much about the world, their world and myself. I have built character, learned life lessons, gained amazing stories and experienced adventures of a lifetime here while finding an entirely new way of seeing the world. And I've obtained new families and identities.
This experience has shown me that I am freaking lucky. I have more, WAY more than what I will ever need. I hope this blog doesn't come off as negative, but rather, appreciative.
I've realized how lucky I am in life. And how I am full, so I need to give back.
Because there is A LOT of work to do here, and it's usually very overwhelming to know where to start. But, we always say it's just about being there. Just being there is the most important thing we can do.
The list goes on and on. This experience is such a wild ride, and it's worth every minute.
Oh, and PS - the text message was when my friend and I got Malian fake eyelashes for Halloween. When we went to take them off, the glue was so strong that it literally removed more than 75% of my real eyelashes! The same day this happened, I was playing with a little Malian baby and he peed all over my pants. Not only did I have no eyelashes, but I was covered in pee. Another day I wouldn't take back.
I'm trying my best to live it up here, because the clock is already ticking and I can feel my Peace Corps life flashing by. They say that this entire experience - before, during and after - is like a big dream. Here I am, waking up in Mali.
Such as riding my bike into town behind an old, rusty, squeaking bike. An old, old man, donning tattered clothes, with his prayer cap sitting on the back of his head is riding the bike. And there are little poops dropping from the back of the bike. A goat is tied up into the size of a small box to fit in the basket of the bike and its poop is creating a trail in front of me and my bike.
Or the time I got the funniest text message from my friend Matt, telling me that not only was he sick on the four hour public transport ride, but a chicken puked all over his pants and then died right then and there.
Or the text message I sent my friend, exclaiming that not only did I not have eyelashes, but I was also peed on. More on this at the end.
And what about the re-writing of rap songs that we did in Bamako? My friends and I were sitting on the roof of the Bamako stage house, loudly laughing because we changed all the words of "b*tch" in rap songs to very common animals in Mali. "Move donkey, get out the way, get out the way donkey, get out the way!" Or "There is one thing I know, cats they come they go."
The time I made a list of things I wanted to do to make my experience in Mali more enjoyable. One of them included riding something taller than a horse - so a camel, or the roof of a bus would work. So, my friend and I strapped ourselves onto the roof of a bashi (beaten down, graphitti-d bus) for the six hour bus ride to Manantali. The road is pretty much a river bed. You go about 10 miles per hour. My body was so sore the next day from maneuvering through the mattresses, bikes and luggage secured to the top of the bus. And dodging the slapping tree branches that eventually cut up my face and arms. But, alas, it was such a fun experience.
The training I gave last week to my women at the women's sewing school. It was on the basics of good business. These women are between the ages of 17 and 27, most with babies strapped to their backs and used clothes sent from western countries, who don't understand the French they're writing (if they can write it). I never thought I'd be teaching women as old as 27 years old that planning ahead to open your business, keeping your place of business clean or respecting your clients were keys to good business. Oh, and all in a random West African language.
And, the little creepsters who stalk my every move - scorpion spiders, monster cockroaches and millions of tiny, scheming ants. They're everywhere! If someone would have told me five years ago that I'd be battling flying cockroaches the size of my big toe, spiders almost as big as the palm of my hand that happen to look like scorpions and hammer head sharks, or Rambo'ing (can of pure poison) thousands of little ants a night - I'd have thought they were crazy.
Similarly hitching rides in the back of trucks, sleeping outside in a tent in the sweltering furnace temperatures, swimming with hippos, shaving my head and getting a mohawk, craving salad from a lady on the street corner, turning down marriage proposals every single day, laughing about how funny it is when someone says you sleep in the bathroom, my level of familiarity with diarrhea, living my life "one day at a time," actually knowing about the real Timbuktu, freaking out if I don't drink six liters of water a day, that every sickness is ameliorated by drinking more water, actually saying "This is Africa," the flash mob dance we did to "This is Africa" at the end of the shea bootcamp, falling in love in a hopeless place (Rihanna), singing the National Anthem in the back of a moto-taxi on Thanksgiving, having people break into my house to steal only American candy, living in a hut under a mosquito net, being caged in by screaming kids shouting "white person," laughing about hearing stories about people literally shitting their pants (and it not being uncommon), eating goat liver and heart, breakfast sandwiches of egg, french fries and grease sauce, serving my country, describing my everyday life as an "emotional roller coaster," finding that my greatest support system had become a tiny device called an iPod, or seeing those stars and stripes waving and getting chills.
...this is my life now. And I am grateful for every crazy story I have.
On Thanksgiving, we asked ourselves what we were thankful for.
Last week, I read a line in a book that caused me to deeply reflect on where I stand in the world. The author asked his readers to ponder all the things we have in the world, to show us how truly happy we are. So, I've been thinking about all the things I'm blessed to have in my life.
I am thankful that I chose this experience.
Being here, I have realized that I am indeed, one of the richest and most educated people in the world. That is stunning to wrap my mind around.
And I live in a place, speaking their language, practicing their culture, living with them, eating with them, in a place where up to 75% of the country cannot read or write and most live off of less than $1 a day.
I am thankful that I can read and write. Today, as I wrote (at normal cursive-writing pace) the name of a restaurant, La Deliverance, my friend remarked how great I could write. He was having difficulty writing people's names.
I am thankful that I am from a country that believes (although there is still a very long way to go), in equality for all people. A country where I don't get forced to have my genitals cut off and am obligated to marry a kid I don't know when I'm as young as 13 years old. And that I can get a job, be president, be a preacher, wear the clothes of my choosing, speak up in meetings, have as many kids or no kids, get through the 5th grade, can have male friends, don't have to go into prostitution, am not seen strictly as my dad or husband's pet/object/worker. America is not perfect, but we are damn lucky.
I am thankful that I have both of my parents. That my parents show me love and affection. That they don't hit me or put me to work, taking care of babies at the age of five. I am thankful that they are both in good health and that we all know how to use computers to Skype and keep in touch. Here, Malians will always ask you if you have both of your parents. I guess it's because it is so common here to be my age and not have both of your parents.
I am thankful for my own health. If I get malaria, I can go to the Peace Corps med office and take medicine right away, for free. Most Malians have no luxury of this kind. I have had education on good nutrition my entire life, on good dental health, on good physical exercise. And being here I know that I need vitamins, veggies, fruits, protein, to maintain my healthy weight. Millions of others in this country don't ever get the adequate nutrients they need in their diets - their entire lives. The average life expectancy here is in the late 40s. Americans' are in the late 70s. We live an average of almost 30 years, three decades, longer than the average Malian! Whoa.
I am thankful that the education of my country teaches its students how to think critically and creatively. We are innovators and we contribute to the global economy. We are taught to challenge assumptions, do research and think for ourselves. We are encouraged to think outside the box and never give up. We are told that the sky is the limit and that we can do and be anything we want to be. We are not pigeon-holed and we are not socially nudged to do things one way. You know, it's easy to take stuff like this for granted. But here, they only memorize in school. It's not explained. They're not taught they can be anything, or to think for themselves, or to be creative and express themselves.
At home in America, I have clean drinking water, electricity, paved roads, cars, bank accounts, healthy family, hospitals with real doctors, Barack Obama as my president, things that start on time, real buses and safe transport with seat belts and doors that open, clean, regulated food that doesn't give me Mr. D, libraries, lights, clean toilets that aren't bug-infested holes in the ground, hand washing with soap, enough teachers, reading and writing, small change, job opportunities, politicians we can actually elect, women and human rights, choices, multi-culturalism, police who aren't corrupt, government and security forces who don't operate on bribes...
I love Malians like my own family. No, I don't agree with every way of life here, but the people and culture here have taught me so much about the world, their world and myself. I have built character, learned life lessons, gained amazing stories and experienced adventures of a lifetime here while finding an entirely new way of seeing the world. And I've obtained new families and identities.
This experience has shown me that I am freaking lucky. I have more, WAY more than what I will ever need. I hope this blog doesn't come off as negative, but rather, appreciative.
I've realized how lucky I am in life. And how I am full, so I need to give back.
Because there is A LOT of work to do here, and it's usually very overwhelming to know where to start. But, we always say it's just about being there. Just being there is the most important thing we can do.
The list goes on and on. This experience is such a wild ride, and it's worth every minute.
Oh, and PS - the text message was when my friend and I got Malian fake eyelashes for Halloween. When we went to take them off, the glue was so strong that it literally removed more than 75% of my real eyelashes! The same day this happened, I was playing with a little Malian baby and he peed all over my pants. Not only did I have no eyelashes, but I was covered in pee. Another day I wouldn't take back.
I'm trying my best to live it up here, because the clock is already ticking and I can feel my Peace Corps life flashing by. They say that this entire experience - before, during and after - is like a big dream. Here I am, waking up in Mali.
Very insightful!
ReplyDeleteThis IS MY FAVORITE BLOG! Mark said it-insightful, but gut-wrenchingly honest and pure about your appreciation, gratefulness and pride. It's so good to hear your child say how much they love their country, their President, their home. You've learned to love it more through an American made experience in Africa. Aculture so desolate, despaired-yet you're in the worse conditions trying to make things better in a place that never seems to know better. That's honor, that's true service and comendable.Remember what I told you. Look forward to every moment. Thanks for your sincere thankfulness for your parents. I wished we all knew sooner how important family is.
ReplyDeleteLove you-Mom