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 24th birthday and the 2nd 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 3rd. While in Bamako, I picked up all the supplies we needed for the celebration to take place September 16th 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 16th. 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 16th- 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 16th, 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 22nd, most of my village and I biked (or walked or moto’d) to Keleya, our market town, to celebrate the 50th 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 22nd, 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.
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