A September to Celebrate

First off, apologies again to everyone for the delay in posting. I find it extremely difficult to sit down at a computer and write when I have already written these things in my journal, or for reports for Peace Corps, or just speaking about it with friends and family. I realize that this is neglecting a large number of loyal readers who have been waiting patiently for the next of my rambles. Strangely enough, photos refuse to upload- even with highspeed internet. I'll try to add them ASAP or you can just check out my facebook photo albums. Apologies.

Currently I’m in the north country- back at home in the United States- for a short vacation. This past weekend my best friend of almost 20 years got married to her more than just high school sweetheart. This is a wedding I could never have dreamed of missing because we have been imagining and planning it forever.

But, without further ado, let me present to you:

A September to Celebrate

A blog entry in five parts

Written and experienced by Sara Snider a.k.a. Mandio (pronounced “Mahn joe”) Bagayoko

I. August- the preparation

After returning from a 3 week vacation to Burkina Faso, Ghana and Togo, I spent most of August jumping back and forth between Bamako and Bassa. During these trips I was helping with a few sessions for the new group of PC trainees, saying goodbye to many volunteers that I began with two years ago and preparing for the month of September that was promising to be busier than anything I had yet experienced. In addition, I visited Bougouni twice to check up on my host mother, Babintou, who was completing her refresher course on maternity issues and midwifery. At the end of her training, the health branch of the government and the community health center in Keleya had agreed that the rural maternity could open.

Not long after my homecoming, we began the development of skits and songs to be performed at the rural maternity ribbon-cutting ceremony. I acted as the director and producer, providing feedback to and support for the performers. At first there was only one group of 16 youth, many recycled from the theatre group we had perform at International Women’s Day back in March. They already had a skit in mind and decided to meet two nights a week to practice. This was group Sanuya or “cleanliness” and their presentations focused on malaria, the need for pre-natal care, and the value of sanitation. Then, a second group formed from the children who hadn’t been included in the first group, but who also wanted to participate. The group Denkadi or “the child is more important than anything” created a whole new skit with the theme “Prevention is the best medicine,” then found and choreographed applicable songs. Throughout August, I tried my best to attend all of their rehearsals.

On one of my trips to Bamako, I appeared on national TV for an interview on the importance of high-quality shea butter production. The Malian businessman who, last year, purchased a large portion of Miiriya Nyuman’s (“Good Idea” in Bambara our shea association), shea butter invited me as an additional guest to a talk show he was to be on. He acts as the president for a large shea-producers union in Bamako and through his interaction with our community, thought that I might be able to add something to the national shea conversation.

The night before the talk show, we met with the show host at the businessman’s office. He explained the format of the show provided us with an outline of the questions he would ask (remember: this is all in Bambara). The following morning, the businessman was running late and we arrived at ORTM, the Malian Office of Radio and Television, just twenty minutes before the scheduled start time. We found the host in his office and went quickly to the soundstage. The crew prepped us, found pale makeup and lipstick for me and told us which camera to look at and when. Not three minutes later, the recording began.

Or so I had thought, until I asked the host when the 45 minute spot would air. He told me it would probably re-air the following week, but that it had been a live broadcast! I have yet to see or to receive my copy of the broadcast, but I heard from many viewers over the upcoming weeks, many people from my market and banking towns excited about seeing the Bambara-speaking American they know who lives in Bassa.

My host family helped me celebrate my 24^th birthday and the 2^nd anniversary of my first visit to village. Yes, two years ago I got my first taste of Bassa for a week during our “site visit.” We travelled to our sites, met the important individuals, set up our bank accounts and mailboxes, cried because we couldn’t communicate, asked ourselves what we had gotten into and made so many assumptions that have since been disproved. Of course, this only got better with time and two years have since passed- I could not have chosen a better fit for myself.

II. Selifitini- the prayer

September began with a visit from a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer from the neighboring country of Burkina Faso and just did not stop. Each week was another multiple day event that required our attention and each night was a meeting or review. With the rainy season still in full swing, a huge rain storm disturbed, but did not discourage the new stage or group of volunteers that swore-in at the US Embassy on September 3^rd. While in Bamako, I picked up all the supplies we needed for the celebration to take place September 16^th because I realized just how hectic the upcoming month would be.

The following week, my village was caught by surprise, when the important religious figures in Mali announced the end of Ramadan, the month of fasting, a day earlier than expected. Ramadan usually ends after 30 days with the first sighting of the new moon. In total, I fasted 20 days this year in solidarity with my village- this means no food or drink (including water) from sunrise to sunset. I might have cheated a little bit by allowing myself to eat after I woke up instead of waking before sunrise to eat.

Light rain put a damper on the usual festivities, but did not completely limit the merriment. Around 5:30am my host brother pounded on my door to present me with my warm bath water, the sign that the day had arrived and they would be expecting me not too much later in my nice clothes for breakfast. Then, in breaks between showers, the whole community attended the day’s service at the mosque since the normal outside prayer spot was damp.

I was surprised when the women of village decided to have a meeting on selitini. They ended up spending two hours (!) discussing plans and fundraising for the celebration of the rural maternity opening and shea butter production presentation scheduled for a week from that day.

We spent every second of the week following selifitini in extreme preparation for September 16^th. My Malian counterpart, other villagers and I painted the signs that would indicate the turn from the main highway in Keleya, which road to take to get to Bassa, the “welcome to our rural maternity” sign that stands at the entrance and the four signs posted on the building to designate the different rooms (i.e. office, birthing room, recovery room).

On the Sunday before, the promotrice who had helped us through so much already, offered to help with the ceremony. Madame Sangare, her husband, and a few other Bamako representatives (by which I mean relatives or friends of Bassa). We all met at the dugutigi’s (chief of the village’s) house where we explained the plans, the different commissions already in place, and asked for advice. They had plenty of suggestions and presented their own ideas on how to make the day run smoothly. They even had a photographer and DJ lined up, who they would return with on Wednesday afternoon.

By this time, the two youth groups had become competitive, and not in a good way. They would secretly listen in on the other group’s rehearsal, many times by hiding in the tall rows of corn and then report their ‘findings’ back to their own. What these ‘findings’ were, I am still unsure, as the groups were doing completely different skits, but the children became angry enough with snoopers to start yelling matches about who was better. Sanuya would become jealous of Denkadi if I had spent more time attending the other group’s practice and threatened to cancel their own practice. The competition created unnecessary tension as the parents of the youth also got involved, although that was difficult because most families had some children in both groups. Even the night before, I was afraid that I might have to cancel that part of the ceremony when one group refused to let the other onto the performance area. Oh drama.

III. September 16^th- the pride

I have never been so proud of my community. The months (and a year) of preparation culminated in a fantastic ceremony that truly highlighted the skills and strengths of Bassa. The week before, our maternity management committee president had signed our Cahier de Charge, a legal document written by the head doctor from Bougouni, the doctor from Keleya and the president of the government’s health branch. This Cahier de Charge outlines the roles and responsibilities of each party who signed. It explains in detail what activities can and cannot take place at the rural maternity in Bassa and how these activities will be supported within the local health network.

We frantically ran around market on Monday to insure everything had been arranged- the final sign cemented in place, the sodas and ice ordered and the chairs we rented ready for pick-up on Wednesday. Each of the commissions knew the role they had to fulfill and did so with skill. They assigned a leader to be in charge of locating tarps and righting the wood poles for shade on the soccer field. There was a leader of ‘security’ to do crowd control and to guide the guests to the next event. A few people led the commission of food preparation and distribution, keeping in mind that two cows would be slaughtered and prepared, over 150 kilos of rice prepared and that this all would be served to the hundreds of visitors expected from neighboring communities. The night before, we had a huge dance party in the center of town. Unfortunately, I left early (around 1:30am) because I was so worried about weather- the storm clouds in the east did not bode well. We had received three huge rains the week before and over the weekend so even a passing storm could flood the dike area and require us to cancel the visit.

Bassa woke up bright and early on Thursday. Everyone went to work- placing chairs, sweeping town, preparing the speeches. The mayor arrived around 8:00, which sent everyone into a frenzy thinking that the day’s activities would soon start. The American delegation of Peace Corps staff, my good friend Dan, the president of the Malian Association for the Promotion of the Young Woman, and a small group from the Embassy were scheduled to leave Bamako around 7:30, so there was no way that they would arrive before 9:00 and it was more likely that it would be closer to 10:00. The vehicle (a villager from Bamako’s) left to wait at the turn-off. When the caravan arrived, it would follow this car to Bassa. They would also call someone perched in cell phone reception on the top of the mosque to inform them they were on their way.

Around 8:30, the teenager assigned to stay in cell phone reception got bored and instead of waiting for the call, told everyone that the caravan must already be on its way- in the dead zone of no reception between Keleya and Bassa. This, I knew, was highly unlikely, but did not have a chance to step into reception myself and call someone from the Peace Corps staff. We had been preparing the shea production presentation, step-by-step from fruit to nut, powder to paste and emulsified fats to solidified butter. At the end of the ‘fair’ was a table of local products, including sumbala (a spice used in sauces), fu (called staph- a plant-based material used in home decorating) and pottery. We made the ‘final’ preparations and made our way to the soccer field where most everyone was already lining the road to greet the visitors.

We waited there for what seemed like hours. Everyone was afraid to leave because we had been told that the guests would arrive any second. The clouds that had been approaching amazingly burned off and made for a hot, sunny day. The sigui or masked dancers and singer entertained. Around 9:40, our Bamako guests arrived and the festivities began.

The youth group Denkadi met the delegation with traditional gifts of welcome- calabash bowls of milk and kola nuts and some corn. We proceeded to walk around the entire line of people to present the visitors to the crowd and then finally take our seats. The chief of the village officially welcomed everyone and introduced villager Saibou who was our MC. Saibou currently lives in Cote d’Ivoire, but came back to Bassa where he was born and raised for the planting season. He spoke eloquently of the importance of the day and then turned it over to the other speakers.

The mayor, sous-prefet (another government representative), head doctor from Keleya all spoke in addition to representatives from the Embassy and Peace Corps. Unfortunately, the podium was out in the center of the soccer field and did not have any shade (which probably encouraged the speakers to keep it short!). We transitioned to the shea presentation in the center of town; a small group of Malians and all the guests were invited to the ‘fair.’ At this point I was praying that we would not encounter any major issues considering that we left the set-up early.

Overall, the presentation was successful. The president of the Malian Association for the Promotion of the Young Woman assisted because she dabbles in shea work and helped arrange for the original shea training that happened in Bassa my first spring. At the final table, Miiriya Nyuman presented four people with gifts of shea butter in a handmade pot. Other pottery items were on sale.

We returned to the field and went directly to the maternity where the sous-prefet cut the ribbon, the Deputy Chief of Mission on one side and our Peace Corps-Mali Country Director on the other. They entered the building for a brief tour (it’s only three rooms…) before taking their seats again for the completion of the festivities.

After discussions about time, we had agreed that one youth group would sing their choreographed songs and the other would present their skit. Later in the afternoon, after lunch, the first group, Denkadi, would be able to perform for everyone. This had to be my favorite part of the ceremony, excluding only short delays when each group set-up. Both Denkadi and Sanuya were fantastic and the crowd really got into their work. All of the tension melted into laughter.

I gave my short speech of appreciation to all of the parties involved- to the guests for coming and participating, to the children and Miiriya Nyuman and to all of the groups involved in making the day a success. I emphasized that this day was meant to show these communities just what resources and talents they have, including the ability to execute these development projects and to host a superb fête. Everyone came to see the good work done by these communities, but we also need to realize that the work is not quite finished. Only by continuing to support these efforts can they succeed, can they realize the benefits from the days, weeks, months and years of hard work. In Malian culture, it is polite to ‘request the road’ or to ask to leave, and so I did on behalf of those returning to Bamako.

Before agreeing, there was one final gift. The mayor, the chief of the village of Folona and my Malian counterpart presented the Deputy Chief of Mission, our Country Director and myself each with a wooden statue called a ciwara (pronounced “chee wah rah”). This mystical figure represents hard work and perseverance (in agriculture). Traditionally, it was presented at the end of harvest to the farmer who had produced the most in honor of their efforts. Although the practice of giving a ciwara has become less common, the significance remains.

We walked the visitors to their vehicles and gave them blessings for safe travels. It had been a wonderful beginning for the rural maternity; a true vote of confidence in Bassa and Folona.

Not long after they left, I asked if I would be able to take a short break back at my house. The MC and my counterpart agreed that not much was currently happening, that my presence was not needed. The food was not quite ready, they said. I retired to my house on the other side of village and took a much needed nap.

Around the time of selifana prayer (2:00) I returned to the soccer field to find that food had still not been divvied up… and people were getting very hungry. Had anyone explained the situation to the masses? Of course not. So I took the mic and asked everyone to please be patient- perhaps they could pray selifana and by that time, the zame (pronounced zah may) would be divided amongst the large bowls and passed out.

I waited only slightly longer there before realizing just what a nightmare this food issue had been. My host mother commandeered a small bowl for me and told me we should head back into town. Because the food had taken so long, all of the other activities (speeches and presentations, the other skit, the dancers) were cancelled (perhaps just postponed). Many of the visitors from other towns packed up and left as the clouds from the morning reappeared in the east. And we weren’t escaping this time.

At 3:45ish, the skies let loose. The soaking rains cooled the anxieties of the late lunch. Everyone moved indoors, ending that day’s activities. Sadly, the delayed meal overshadowed the beautiful ceremony and everyone spent the days following focused on the flubbed food.

The Chief Didn’t Eat- the puzzle

At the very end of a maternity committee meeting a few days after September 16^th, a representative from Folona, our neighboring village that shares the new rural maternity, asked for the floor to speak. We had accomplished a lot during the meeting so far and the discussions of the festivities’ finances and the overall execution of the ceremony had died down. Midnight was approaching and everyone was growing anxious to leave. It was then he broke the news: that amidst the chaos of the celebration and the craziness of the ‘kitchen,’ the chief of the village of Folona had not received his portion. At least two committee members gasped and most everyone else sucked their teeth, expressing extreme disapproval.

We then spent another half an hour discussing how this mistake could have occurred and what to do about it. There had been a commission of people to cook, to divide the food into bowls, a commission of people to pick waitresses to deliver the food to the distinguished guests, and then the actual women in charge of delivering the food, so at what point in that line had things gone wrong? Everyone was so embarrassed. We decided immediately that a special delegation of villagers from Bassa would be sent to ask forgiveness for the error. The chief of Folona would most likely excuse the mistake as nothing, but failing to acknowledge our fault would be an even larger insult than the misplaced meal.

So I joined the new ‘commission in charge of apologizing to Folona’s chief’ and we met with the elders of Folona later that week. It turns out that the both of the chiefs’ food had been sent to the boutique in town where the chief’s wife was. The young woman who delivered the food there did not specify who it was for, so when visitors from another town passed by saying they were hungry, the chief’s wife thought it necessary to give the food to them, assuming that there would be more food on its way. The two chiefs arrived at the boutique to find their food gone. They waited and waited, but no food came. Unfortunately, the food had run out not long after and no one thought to check back to see if the chief had successfully received his bowl of zame.

The request for clemency succeeded and Folona’s chief shrugged off the experience. He said that he knew we did not do it on purpose and therefore, the apology had been unnecessary- more for our own sake than for his. With a communal sigh of relief from Bassa’s representatives, the worries and embarrassment that had overshadowed the success of the ceremony disappeared. Finally, they could celebrate their accomplishments comfortably and with confidence.

IV. 50 years of Independence- the people

Wednesday, September 22^nd, most of my village and I biked (or walked or moto’d) to Keleya, our market town, to celebrate the 50^th year of Malian Independence. There, we watched bicycle and motorcycle races, parades and presentations, soccer matches and traditional dancing until way past midnight. My favorite part of the day took place at the high school’s soccer field. Keleya is the equivalent of our county seat and so each of the 21 villages in the commune (county) came to celebrate there. During the morning, the celebration’s MC gave each of the towns present approximately 10 minutes of time to present their village’s talent (see photos on facebook). Other larger festivities were happening everywhere, especially in regional capitals and in Bamako.

The Friday after the 22^nd, Crosby, my co-host, and I continued our weekly radio broadcast in Bambara by doing a show I had previous done about Handwashing with Soap. Although International Handwashing With Soap Day was not until the next month, I felt it relevant to the health theme that we had been running to spotlight the opening of the rural maternity. I left the radio station quickly to catch transportation to Bamako and then to a northern city called Banamba. There, a new volunteer assigned to work with shea butter was helping her counterpart group with a collaborative shea butter production effort. This newly formed association of 6 rural villages and 2 groups in Banamba had never worked together before to produce high-quality shea butter, but had organized themselves with that goal this year. That Saturday would be a workshop for them, each community transforming the nuts they had collected and sundried into a powder and then paste that they would beat into butter. It felt wonderful to share the experiences that I have had with shea work and to see and hear the work that other groups are doing.

V. Training in village- the empowerment

With funds leftover from our village’s proposal for maternity materials, we were able to finance 4 days of training in Bassa. The first two days, 24 villagers (equally split between men and women) gathered at our 3-5 grade classroom and participated in a PACA workshop on Food Security. PACA stands for Participatory Analysis for Community Action and provides fantastic tools for truly understanding the issues our communities are facing. My homologue (Malian counterpart) and I had attempted co-facilitating this type of analysis soon after I had gained a decent understanding of Bambara and of my village only 6 months into my service. That analysis resulted in a short list of issues that Bassa villagers wanted to focus on during the two years I would be in Bassa. These priorities had included improvement of the village shea association and shea production practices, a maternity or health facility and exploring the possibility of large scale fish farming or chicken raising. As you know, we have continued with the shea and association improvements as well as the rural maternity project. In the spring of 2009, we did research the feasibility of large scale fish farming or chicken raising and found it to be an unviable option for income generation.

During this PACA, we brought in an expert Malian facilitator and conducted a more thorough investigation. After almost a full day of presentation and conversation about local food security issues, the group began a self-critical study as to better know Bassa’s needs. They talked about many things and their relation to food security- from the health of the village to the lack of education options for young women. Food security means having access to nutritious food all the time, whether we produce that food ourselves or whether we can transport ourselves to a place and have the money purchase that food. Malians get once chance a year- during the rainy season- to produce the staple crops they need to survive through to the next harvest- all their corn, rice, millet, sorghum… and unfortunately the environment often throws in droughts or floods to make it even more difficult. Luckily, I have not yet seen a poor harvest during my time in Mali. But this does not mean that we shouldn’t prepare for the possibility that next year’s rains may not be sufficient. My community decided that they want to work on maintaining the environment, finding out how they can have a cereal bank or communal storage for excess grains and perhaps initiate a project to buy a new grinder for the village.

By protecting the environment, they can increase crop yields, help preserve the soil’s nutrients and also stop deforestation (so the women will not have to walk so far in search of firewood for their kitchens). A building and system for communal grain storage will assist those who have excess and want to sell as well as those who are lacking and would like to buy. It keeps the surplus within the community instead of requiring them to travel to market. These prices are often lower because it cuts out of the many costs of transportation- for people and for the goods. This only emphasizes the many ways to improve food security. The new grinder would decrease the amount of time that women spend pounding and processing the grains they use in every meal. The current grinder in village is overworked and breaks down pretty often, leaving the women to pound the grains by hand or take their grains to the next town over and back; either of those alternatives would add at least an hour of work for the women.

The PACA training also taught Bassa how to create and follow an action plan, which they did for the grinder option. They are currently preparing and thinking about how they would go about acquiring a grinder. This includes things like forming a committee, researching different types of mills/grinders and transportation costs to village, deciding whether it should be gasoline or diesel, where it should be in village, and devising the plan for who would run, maintain and manage the grinder. It has been wonderful to watch the community working together, motivated around this issue- let’s hope that it continues that way!

The second two days of the training were for the maternity management committee, midwives, the relais or village health representatives, and other involved community members. It was an exercise in team-building, making sure we had definite, reachable goals; an idea about how to progress now that the rural maternity was open. As a result of this training, the committee decided they need to focus on developing the relationship between us and the local health network.

The day following these trainings, we had one final presentation- a visit from the Office of Private Sector Initiatives- the PC office in DC that helped us connect with US donators for our maternity building project. For everyone that contributed to our Peace Corps Partnership Program, these are the people who made it possible. They, along with some PC-Mali staff, came to see how the project had progressed and asked questions about the process- both for me, the volunteer, and my village, the executors of the project. The OPSI staff were fun and laid back, so Bassa took the opportunity to display their strengths once again. The youth group Denkadi (which sang during the other celebration) was able to present their skit for these visitors. From there we had a small group of representatives from the maternity committee who answered the questions posed about the project. After, we all ate together! The visitors dug in with their hands to try our rice dish with onion and fish sauce (not my favorite). We took a tour around town and sent them on their way. We stood on the road and waved goodbye. It had been a strenuous, but stupendously successful, September.

Not All at Once!

Here are the pictures and a video from the day after we received 145 mm (and more) of rain. This is almost as at least as bad as the day I described last year, but it still amazes me how the one route we have to get out to the main road becomes a (sometimes impassable) river. We had been receiving small amounts of rain (1-2mm) pretty regularly since mid-June and our villagers were becoming worried about the crops they had planted (mostly corn, millet, sorghum and peanuts). This rain followed another significant rain and drenched the fields. I thought that this was just the storm we had been waiting for, but my farming friends said, "We needed all this rain, but not all at once!"

The water (over-)flooding the rice fields to the left.

This "dike" was built back in 1985 and was meant to control the water flow in this area (completely dry most of the year). The idea was that this built up area could keep an adequate amount of water on the rice fields and allow the rest to pass without impeding transport from all of the villages that use Keleya as their portal to the main road. I think that after 25 years, there needs to be some reconstruction- local resources (including a construction team) have yet to be identified. I do not regularly encourage infrastructure construction as a solution to development issues, but knowing that roads like this (and worse) exist throughout Mali makes me advocate for at least a decent route to market (for the transport of goods), to health facilities (the transport of people), and to services, like government offices, youth clubs, and good schools (the transport and dispersion of ideas). Before the "dike" was there, my villagers told me that they simply would not go to Keleya or would use a makeshift boat.

Here are two places the "dike" has been overcome by the water it holds back on the left. The one in the foreground was relatively tame, but the other, moving much faster and being much deeper, pulled at my bicycle... and at me... (it took my host father's sandal). And yet, I watched 2 women cross with grace- with a punch-bowl full of shea nuts balanced on their head and another medium-sized bowl on their shoulder. I was amazed, but also upset that such effort needs to go into the collection of inputs for one of their best income-generating activities.

This is the "diked" area in village next to fenced in garden-- the road to the next village is completely submerged under at least 1.5 ft of water. During dry season, men from my village will make bricks from the mud under the water in the picture.

Here's the video of the water. Take a listen to the frogs!

I'm headed on a trip to visit some other friends in West Africa. This will be my first time out of Mali (except for my trip home in winter) since I arrived. I hope to see Burkina Faso, Ghana and Togo over the next few weeks and share my stories after I return.

Content

I can actually say that I've been ridiculously busy for the past 6 months, which is not something volunteers often get a chance to say. I'll take it for what it is and try to share everything that has been keeping me occupied. You can take it for what it is and try to get through this massive missive.

Over almost 2 months ago now, the electrician connected the solar panel to the lights in the maternity. Since then, the joint "rural birthing facility" has been complete in terms of structure; what remains has to do with the organization and functioning of the facility. With only a few delays and set-backs, this project verified my community's ability to rally around their cause and see it through to the end (at least of the first phase). A big thanks goes to my village counterpart for his endless hours of dedicated effort, for putting up with my stubbornness in refusing to do anything without a Malian co-facilitator, and for being patient when I became overly frustrated with things I could not control.

The completed maternity and laterines

I have been reluctant to write because of some of the difficulties we came upon. Before I start to recount the last few months, I would like to reassure you that despite all that has happened, I am still extremely encouraged by certain individuals, who act thoughtlessly and with unlimited dedication to the cause of their community's development. Mali is no different from other countries in the sense that some individuals are motivated, perservering and problem-solving... and some are not. I was lucky to be placed in a small village teeming with the first type of people, who surprised me whenever we came across what seemed to be an unfixable roadblock. These are the women who carried water each and every day to the worksite without question, the men who volunteered to take other people's places even if it wasn't their "team's" day to work. At the same time, I do not want to down play the struggles we've had- they are in no way a light matter, something to be excused or written off as frivolous problems one always encounters in developing countries. Thankfully, with the help of a new contact, the maternity project is back on track for its opening this fall.

Construction

February and March
A group of men work on the maternity in the background while young men and boys move this year's cotton crop into the truck container that will be picked up by the cotton union. Cotton has become increasingly less profitable for Malians, with the unreliable market and fluctuating prices. Also, cotton removes so many nutrients from the soil, leaving it in a state that must be addressed with compost or other nutrient-adding fertilizers.

The building proceeded pretty smoothly and quickly; it was the small details that fell into place later on. The last pieces added were the ceiling, the colar panel and wiring and the painting of the inside. The painters had to wait for the electrician and the electrition had to wait for the carpenters who were installing the ceiling tiles. Getting all of these local laborers' schedules to match up was difficult- getting their transport and the transportation of their materials organized meant that this part took just as long as the actual construction. After it all, the building is much larger than I expected, providing the incentive to grow just as soon as the facility has the capacity and is well-established.

Here the painters mix the paint and concrete for the external walls. Orginally we had asked for a light yellow, but there was a misunderstanding and the color we ended up with was a sandy orange. It's probably for the best considering that this color will camoflauge the dirt and dust.

April and May
With that, the physically intensive aspects of the maternity were over and the village relaxed for a bit. But not for too long. All types of reconstruction and construction work consume the dry season (from November-May) since the rainy season is filled with agricultural tasks. That meant that as soon as they finished the maternity, they could move on to their other dry season priorities, including a well project and a small bridge. Last year, another NGO began working on a well located between the school and the maternity. The village dug out the well, but unfortunately a lack of funding mean that it could not be completed last year. With the contributions of many of my friends and family, the well has now been finished, just in time for rainy season. The process of well-digging is quite astonishing to me who knows nothing about construction. After the solidification of 15 huge cement and metal rings, the well-digger, with the help of our community members, were able to attach a thick cable to each ring in order to lower it into the well. These rings reinforce the walls of the well so that it does not collapse on itself. The top of the well is raised and covered with a pulley system, discouraging the school children from climbing on top of the well. Thankfully, this new well will provide much easier access to water, easing the amount of work for those involved with the maternity or with the school.

The well-digger sets the frame for the top of the well

Lowering a cement ring into the well
A cement ring and lots of water in the well! This muddy water will be removed before the clean water can fill in.

When not concentrating on the community building projects, most villagers have building projects of their own- whether it be a new house, re-roofing an old house, the replacement of doors or windows, the list goes on. Most of these are constructed from mud bricks and natural materials found locally, which adds to the sustainability and natural cooling ability of the houses. Villagers draw the mud from an area on the outskirts of town that is a pond until December. The mud is then mixed with grasses and manure for bricks or just manure to be creped on the walls and floors.

In order to ease access to the maternity for the villagers of our neighboring town of Folona, the two villages met each Tuesday to improve the road between the towns. There is an area that is perpetually washed out because of stream at the bottom of a hill. They have reinforced this bridge many times before, but this year's efforts were impressive. Bassa's villagers contributed the use of their donkey carts because the distance is shorter and easier to access for us. Folona contributed workers that placed the logs, large rocks and stones to fix the road. By building up the path and creating a place for the stream to run freely, everyone has high hopes for this version lasting longer than previous attempts.

Dry season is also cashew season. I cannot remember if I mentioned this last year, but I am amazed at learning how cashews (among many other things) actually grow. Before coming to Mali, I thought that cashews grew like peanuts, that they were a tuber that would be pulled from the ground. The United States is not a very good place for understanding the actual agricultural sources for our foods, which is sometimes a relief and sometimes makes me feel extremely ignorant. More about my love-hate relationship with the idea of grocery stores in my next entry. For now, just take a look at the cashew tree and the cashew fruit (that is super sweet and spongy). The fruit spoils pretty quickly, so it is a challenge to eat them all. The cashew itself, coated in a thick skin and somewhat-toxic oil, is removed from the top of the fruit to either sell or process. Many Malians have never roasted cashew themselves to eat because of the intensive process of burning off the oil around the nut. The oil around the cashew can burn or cause a serious reaction until it is completely cleaned. This oil is also flammable. Ater the cashew nut is actually extracted and cleaned, it is roasted and that is the final product we get in our can. Check out more about cashews here and start thinking how many foods that we take their acquisition for granted (A Perfect Storm...).

Conferences

March and April
In March, there were two large events held in Bamako that focused specifically on shea nuts and butter production in Mali. First was the International Shea Day, attended by a number local Malian women working to produce high-quality shea. There was a small fair for displaying Malian shea products and a number of speakers discussing the importance of gauranteeing quality control of the shea leaving Mali. Although Mali's shea exports are in the beginning stages, there is huge potential for it to improve the lives of the most rural (and some may argue, the most impoverished) Malian women.

Shea exportation shows huge potential, but what I keep emphasizing to the women with whom I work is that they need to benefit from this shea more than anyone else. Yes, high-quality shea butter catches a pretty penny in the international market. However, this market, like all other markets, is not gauranteed or completely stable. To profit the most from this plentiful resource, they should make sure that their own needs are satisfied first. For example, many women have changed over most of their production with the hope of selling abroad. This is an important source of income for them, especially during the "hungry" time of the year. But it is also very important to realize what a place shea has in the good health habits of Malians. This is a high-calorie oil that they use in most of their meals, an oil that they can produce themselves instead of buying peanut or palm oil that is usually imported and much more expensive. Shea butter can be used lotion that smooths rough skin and heals small wounds. The shea leaves have other medicinal properties that Malians know and use. By focusing on improving shea trees, nuts and butter products for local consumption, Malian women can solve a number of problems without having to look abroad.

This Shea Day was followed by an International Shea Conference put on by the West African Trade Hub. International producers, buyers, sellers, tranporters, researchers, and scientists attended, providing a wide variety of perpectives on all aspects of shea. As Peace Corps Volunteer working in shea, we were invited to assist with different aspects of the conference- I was asked to help with the registration of the conference participants, which provided a very interesting view of shea work in West Africa. It made me consider more about shea on a global scale rather than just in my village, in my region, or in Mali. Unfortunately, I was unable to attend many of the sessions to hear the most up-to-date shea news and how these people plan to take advantage of the innumerable benefits in shea- and to return these benefits to the women who produce it.

In April, I co-directed a Shea NetWorkshop with the president of a the Malian Association for the Promotion of Young Women. Since I first arrived in Mali, I have had the luck to work very closely with this woman, who has supported and furthered important shea work in my village. Her job includes many activities, not only focusing on shea, but she has spent much time in trying to establish a well-functioning shea producers' network throughout Mali. This Workshop was meant to provide local women with a way to begin bridging the communication gap on shea, to share shea ideas, information and resources, and to empower these women to come together as one voice for shea. As shea efforts stand now, there are vast amounts of shea not being utilized because of a lack of coordination nationally. Although follow-up from the Workshop has been lacking (and that was kind of the point- to improve communication and follow-up), I hope that the attendees benefitted from learning about the national shea network and use their experience as a starting point for creating local networks. It is a work in progress than can improve with dedication to emphasizing the importance of shea in the everyday lives of Malian women.

Conversation and Cooperation

March

This year, we were able to hold a celebration in Bassa for International Women's Day. With the input of the women's association, we decided to present a skit on the value of girls' education, have a well-known and accomplished woman from Keleya come to speak, and to hold a cooking competition between 4 individuals-2 men and 2 women. And it was a man who won! Although it took a while to set-up, the final product was a fantastic day stressing the importance of cooperation within all types of relationships, whether it be husband and wife, student and teacher, friends or families. The women stuck around after the main activities to dance and to celebrate themselves. It was quite successful and everyone says how they cannot wait until next March 8th!
The judges for the cooking contest dig into the winning dish (one of the 4 traditional Malian dishes prepared) called zame, an oily and sometime spicy rice dish.

Contriving Solutions

Back to the maternity... or should I say "rural birthing facility"? Perhaps it does not seem like a big qualifier, but it begins to explain the challenges we encountered. Since my community first mentioned their need and desire for a maternity, we've approached the local experts in health for advice and guidance. We have spoken extensively with the management at the Local Health Center (CSCOM) and the representative of the government's health ministry at the mayor's office (ASACO). We've only gone with open ears for recommendations on how to proceed, considering that Bassa knew little about how we, specifically, could become a part of the local health network. The last I wrote, we had sent my friend Ami for matron training beginning February 1st in the regional capital of Bougouni.

March and April

After a number of set-backs in the matron trainings organized for a few village women, I became extremely discouraged, considering the possibility that the rural birthing facility (formally 'maternity') would not be opening any time soon. Bassa had fulfilled their contribution, as the rural birthing facility building was already complete. But now the young woman selected for matron training was returning to village- we had decide to help Ami withdraw from the training early.

Ami had spent 2 months receiving only 6 hours of formal training, which was not even close to fulfilling the written agreement we had signed with the doctor and formateur. I had no idea how we were to proceed after requesting that the money we had paid the Regional Health Center for half of the training (approximately $150) be returned. As I said, we had been working through the Local Health Center and branch of the health ministry, constantly asking for advice and guidance only to find out that we had been sent on far from the right path. It was so frustrating to see that after all our efforts to undertake this project within the local health network and legal framework, we were basically having to start over again.

Supposedly, the health branch of the government had given us written legal permission to construct the maternity when they should not have. Technically, under the law, maternities cannot be built within 15 km from each other. Then we found out that the leadership at the Local Health Center had not requested the correct approval from the Regional Health Center. Finally, the training for the matron would not provide her with the knowledge base to become a certified matron. Had Bassa discovered these details a year earlier when they initially began this project, many of these issues could have been avoided. But unfortunately in April, we were not on anyone's good side and needed to be in order to gain access to informational or material resources. Who could we trust after a year of receiving misinformation? We were out of ideas about the correct way to function within the local health structures.

We approached the new management at the Local Health Center who said that much had gone off-track, but they would try their best to help us back into the good graces of the Regional Health Center. In the meantime, they were expecting us to find a new training for the young woman. There are health schools throughout Mali, but knowing which one would be appropriate for our woman would take some more work. We held multiple health committee meetings to discuss the next steps. At one of these meetings, the health committee secretary reminded us of a woman who had visited village after returning from her pilgrimage. Her husband was a good friend of someone from Bassa. She herself was trained in health and has been the promotrice for a number of health schools for some time. We did not know exactly how she could assist us, but we were looking for new advice. Within a week of requesting her to come for a visit, she arrived in Bassa.

Contacts, Communication, and Compromise

April and May
We held a large meeting at which we presented our situation to Madame Sangare. Before arriving, she had already stopped by the Local Health Center to discuss their point of view. She had us tell her everything that had occurred and then she proposed her ideas. In general, she said that she was very pleased how the work was progressing- how the health and management committees were functioning and how the building looked. Had we been working together from the beginning, she would have changed a few things, but now she just wanted to pick up from where we were. She said that if necessary, she could arrange a special training for our village matron that would cover all the topics she would need and allow her to open the rural birthing facility within the year. Madame Sangare asked that we send an older woman (my host mother, Babintou) from village to formal training and make some additions to the building. Then, she agreed to talk to both the Local Health Center and Regional Health Center on our behalf in order to straighten things out; and that's exactly what happened.

Madame Sangare was able to right our relationship with the Regional Health Center. Although we were not on good terms after removing the young woman from the 'training' and because we had not properly informed the Regional Health Center of our intentions, Madame Sangare clarified the situation. She arranged the training for the older traditional birthing attendant and insisted that the Regional Health Center allow the trained attendant to open the rural birthing facility after her course. Bassa would then follow-up with all of the necessary authorities. Just before that time, the Regional Health Center had sent message that they would not approve the opening of the rural birthing facility, but Madame Sangare was able to convince them otherwise, proposing a compromise and saying that she would act as our representative, advocating for Bassa and beginning a new relationship, providing the support that the facility needs.

With permission from the Regional and Local Health Centers to move ahead, we made arrangements and sent the my host mother to her refresher course. Bassa continued developing their relationship with the local health network and with Madame Sangare. It was not long after that Madame Sangare told us the good news- that she would sponsor the Ami for her yearlong matron training in Bamako! In addition, Madame Sangare agreed to attend the opening of the rural birthing facility in the fall and to work with the village to start it off on the right foot with good habits and clear plan for the future.

I now know the importance of stressing local connections. It was fantastic to follow 'all the right steps' for working within the Malian system, but having even another expert on your side helps you improve networks as well as strengthen relationships through the use of a third party. Although I had thought that I was properly including my community members in all steps when developing the project, I never expected that some of the authorities could also take advantage of the Malians (and not just my lack of knowledge), that we would need an additional advocate for the village. Always expand networks and connections as much as possible- you'll find that some go no where and you'll find that others help you when you have no where else to go.

Continuing

June and beyond

My host mother will complete her traditional birthing attendant training at the end of July and come back to open the rural birthing facility in August or September. Until then, the health committee will be doing the best they can with the management details- setting prices, procuring materials and medicines, developing a business plan and spreading the word! Although the communities intend to start off slowly, they also have plans for expanding, making this facility as multiple-purpose as possible.

The rainy season has started and that means the return of agricultural work (people have begun plowing and planting) and shea work. Agricultural work takes a lot of time and effort and everyone is involved, so that leaves few opportunities for meetings and large projects. Currently, I am attending a training on Association Building and Food Security issues with two of my villagers. Bassa plans to focus on our needs to gaurantee food security in village as our next project and this training has provided a good base for thinking about the best way to address food security our specific issues. We completed a Food Security survey with 10 households back in March that revealed a true to concentrate on possible solutions.

After making it through what I would consider the most challenging few months of my Peace Corps service, I decided to extend my service for 6 months at my site until March 2011. I will be staying to complete and strengthen the projects on which we are currently working and those that we plan to undertake. I also hope to extend in order to transition with the health volunteer to replace me from the new volunteers arriving for training in February 2011.

Specifically, during this extension we will be opening and establishing the rural birthing clinic already built in village. By encouraging good habits from the beginning, the villagers of Bassa will prepare for the new volunteer's installation in April 2011 and the trained matron's planned arrival in September 2011. In addition, Bassa is looking forward to continuing our relationship with Madame Sangare as we look to improve the health of Bassa.

We plan to continue assisting the women's association on their organizational development and income-generating activities (including shea, pottery and soumbala). After a few years of working together with mediocre results, the association has taken the initiative to do an in-depth self-analysis and the results look promising for this year. As one of our Small Enterprise Development trainers says, we are moving from the "storming" to the "norming" stage of organizational development. This fall, we would like to invite this trainer to come to Bassa for an association building training to emphasize that we are going in the right direction. The shea association has also reorganized with the hope of expanding production and better networking with the surrounding communities.

June 8-10 I attended our "Close of Service" Conference at a hotel in Bamako with all of the volunteers I came to Mali with in July 2008 who are still left. The conference marked the beginning of our group's departures from Mali. Congratulations to my fellow HoBOs! My time in Mali would not have been as enjoyable without the continual support from my volunteer friends. I still will be returning to the US for my best friend's wedding this November and then come back to Mali for the final stretch. While it is difficult to realize that I will be staying here and watching everyone else go, I think that my extension is the perfect opportunity for a successful closure to my service.

A few pics

I'm still working on that super-long entry, but here are a few pictures in the meantime:

A dust devil tearing through town. They are pretty common during hot/dry season.

The travelling camel riders in Bassa for the afternoon- some are salesmen, some are just travelling through Mali by camel, and some (understandably) don't like having their picture taken up-close.

My first (and last) cucumbers from my plot in our community garden-- someone stole the rest of my delicious harvest...

A balafon (large xylophonish instrument) player came to village for a night of dancing!

Growing Cement

Did you know that in order for cement to properly form and solidify, to be structurally sound and strong that it must be watered? Of course all of my engineer, water sanitation and otherwise technically inclined compatriots are shaking their heads in disappointment. Well, I'm sorry I didn't. When they told me to budget in a community contribution for barrels upon barrels of water, I took their word. And now I wish I could have given them more credit for the amount of water they are using and physical labor associated with carrying gallons of water on your head for quite a distance. Watering cement is just one of the things that I've learned about during the last 3 weeks at the construction site of Bassa and Folona's joint community maternity. I know I owe you all a nice, lengthy, informative post- and it is in the works, I promise. For now, take a peek at how this project is proceeding. So far, everyone is well pleased.

Preparing the site and outlining the foundation.

A woman from our association empties her tub of water onto the cement/sand mixture that produced the first bricks. While the men are helping the mason with the construction, the women are diligently carrying water to the work site each day.

The first brick!

Making the bricks. Along the road, you can also see a line of water-carriers.

Everyone comes with whatever container they are able to carry without spilling. In the background, the women take turns filling their containers at the pump.

The village imam and my host uncle watering the bricks while one of the oldest men in village stands by and directs.

The hole being dug for the pit-latrine. Seriously. Hard. Work.

This is the picture I left with on Sunday morning. Since it was Sunday, some of the school children wanted to come and help out, so they were carrying bricks and gathering stones and in general, loving being a part of the process. I am sure that by now it is even more complete than this, leaving the roofing, the furniture, doors, windows and other randomness to fill in.

Okay... so I have to get back to site and transport is leaving from the auto-gare (bus station) pretty soon. Forgive me for the gap in the photos... I left out the actual building process pictures because of lack of time (and the connection keeps cutting out). I hope that you have at least a basic idea of how it is going. If all goes well, the next entry will be too long for one sitting.

The 10 Reasons I Love Cold Season

1. School is in session (fewer screaming children)
2. Lots more corn and rice instead of just millet
3. Better vegetables in our sauces
4. Getting a good night's sleep in the cool air
5. Talking with friends late into the night next to a fire
6. Having to wear multiple layers to bike in to market in the early morning
7. Leaving a water bottle outside over night and waking to have it refrigerator cold
8. Perfectly clear night skies and better than planetarium stars
9. Sleeping in because everyone thinks it's tooo cold to get up before 7
10. Getting to enjoy hot drinks

Groundbreaking News

It was just last Thursday that the villagers of Bassa and Folona broke ground for their joint community maternity. After only a short month and a half of fundraising, over 100 generous contributors donated the total amount of around $7,500. I seriously think the giving time may be a new record. Yesterday was the happy conclusion of months of anticipation and planning. The planning and organization will continue, but it is a break from the anxious waiting to "get to work" and put our ideas into action.

Aw ni ce Aw ni baara
A huge thanks goes out to everyone who contributed to our project and to everyone who has supported our efforts in other ways. Like I've written before, we're are just getting started with this- only one step toward the long term goal of improving maternal health in the region. There are new pictures, but I'm too nervous to use my USB in this virus-infected computer in this internet cafe where I'm writing from.

Happenings
In the time between the last entry and now, much has happened: Thanksgiving, Eid (Tabaski), preparation for the new volunteers' In-service Training, the passing of a host brother, and going home to the United States of America. For Thanksgiving, I invited 5 of my closest friends from village over for a Malian variation of the Thanksgiving theme (think: using millet as a carb substitute). It was deliciously thankful. Malian sweet potatoes may just taste better- even without brown sugar. Eid is the yearly celebration of the story of Abraham and his son, Isaac. As in Christianity, the story reminds us of the value of unquestioning faith. Here, we celebrate in many ways that Abraham's decendants became as numerous as the stars, especially by slaughtering and feasting on lots of delicious mutton. My host brother passed away in a tractor accident while working to 'find money' in Algeria- as of now, there are at least 8 of our young village men who have left for Algeria. More about this later when I'm typing on an English keyboard and the keys are in the places I'm familiar with.

After a week of greiving with my host sister-in-law, I left for home. Home, home. I was lucky enough to spend two amazing weeks with my extremely supportive family and friends in America. This meant Christmas and the New Year and putting on 16lbs by eating delicious food- lots of cheese and other delicacies that are difficult to find here in Mali. I returned without my checked bag that had been misplaced in transit through Chicago. Other than that, my vacation went relatively smoothly. I waited 3 days in Bamako, making me even more excited to get back to site, until my duffel surfaced. It was a fantastic feeling, knowing that even after such a pleasant time at home that I could still be excited to return. My time (and long hot indoor showers) was more rejunvenating than I could have ever expected.