N bora so, n sera so

N bora so, n sera so
I left home, I arrived at home

The last 4 months have flown by in a way unexplainable. After returning to Mali from the United States back in December, I had been anxious for the last push- knowing that it would be filled to the brim with activities in order to prepare myself and my community for my departure- the last steps to complete our work together and make our efforts sustainable. And that's exactly how it was. Every day contained a meeting, a planning session, or an activity that kept Bassa so busy and me so proud to be a part of it. Before we get there, though, there's much to catch up on-

To celebrate International Handwashing With Soap Day (way back in September/October), we had a day of activities at the school and the madrassa (Koranic school). With the help of the teachers, we talked about the importance of hand-washing and followed-up by making paint hand-prints and washing our hands with soap. Something little that was a lot of fun!

I wrote my last entry while I was home in the United States in November. Beginning on October 31, my brother and I roadtripped down the Oregon coast to San Francisco and back to Seattle. It was a fantastic trip and we were able to meet up with family that I have not seen in forever. I cannot wait to do the trip again when the weather is better.

But the main reason I went home was for the wedding of my best friend of almost 20 years. I was honored to be a part of the wedding party for a wedding that went off without a hitch (except that of the bride and groom...)

Shortly after returning from the US, I was asked by some of the Peace Corps staff if I would give a session on radio in Mali at the In-Service Training of the new volunteers who arrived last July. Of course, I gladly agreed, and was able to give a presentation with the assistance of the same radio manual that helped me get started on radio almost two years ago.

Another wedding!
My good friend Ami, who has been in Bassa since I arrived in September 2008, got married in December. For my first two years at Bassa, it was Ami who had gotten matching outfits made with me for the celebration of Seliba or Tabaski. She was also the only one patient enough to attempt to braid my hair and one not upset when it would fall out. Her firey comments convinced any number of people to allow me to participate in activities that they normally would have deemed "too difficult" for me. But she was the one who pushed me to join in when I said that I would like to try, and the one who lovingly refused to let me leave when I said that I was tired or really could not do whatever it was they were doing. In this picture, we were going through the legal paperwork part of the marriage at the mayor's office.

The book of marriage licenses. The bride and groom each pick a witness who will also act as a counselor in case of problems. My host father (far-right) is often chosen as people's witness because of his level-headedness.

On the Radio
Between the time that I came back to Mali and the time I left Mali, I think that I only missed one Friday at my Radio show. The topics ranged from American weddings vs. Malian weddings (in honor of my friends), New Year's celebrations to some improved gardening techniques using natural fertilizers and pesticides I read in the PC-Mali Environment volunteer's handbook. The gardening shows went over very well and everyone was asking me to work with them on their plots.

Unfortunately, I had no real experience with the methods I had proposed, but we got to experiment together to see which ones worked and which ones were ineffective. Since the methods were used by volunteers before, I felt comfortable using them in my show, with a proper disclaimer that the effectiveness depends on the soil and plants you are applying it to and not to be discouraged if it doesn't work- just try something else! What's best for Bassa would not necessarily be best for the entire listening area.

This is a picture outside the radio station "Radio Djitoumou" with the radio technician and my fearless co-host, Crosby.

I gave my final radio show with help from my teammate- the PC volunteer who lives closest to me. We met at the studio and gave a joint show on Moringa- an awesome plant that is super nutritious.

Our Rural Maternity

Just before Christmas, we were able to have the first muso konoman peseli- the weighing of and check-up of pregnant women, a pre-natal consultation- at the maternity in Bassa. We were assisted by another matron or trained midwife from Keleya (where the larger health center is). The following month, my host-mother, Babintou (the one who trained at the Regional capital), was able to hold the weighing by herself and I assisted by writing the information down on the maternity's copy of the paperwork, in notebooks and on cardstock records for each woman. In my absence and before the arrival of Ami, the younger matron, the health relais from Folona has agreed to help. This relais can write in French and is qualified to administer shots and IVs. Normally, a relais is someone who lives in village who attends weekly meetings at the nearest health center and then relays necessary information back to their villages, improving village awareness of pressing health issues. All information for the maternity is collected- recorded in one of 6 notebooks.

There is a general registry that keeps track of all activities taking place at the maternity, including things like the weekly cleanings of the maternity and visits from other doctors coming to do regular inoculations. Of course the registry also records the information for those visiting the maternity to give birth or to talk to the matron. Then there is the accounting notebook that records the money flowing through the maternity (another copy with the accountant).

Also, there are notebooks specifically for accouchement, or births, and CPN, or the information collected from those pre-natal check ups. This includes the date, the name of the woman, her husband's name and their home address (or the town they're from), then their health report- that is, if they gave birth to a boy or a girl, the time, any comments on the birth, how many prior pregnancies she has had. Or for the CPN, their blood pressure, the height of their bellies, and then a bunch of other things that the matron can check and diagnose, as necessary.

The final two notebooks collect information regarding the maternity's health association members. There is a "members card" that you can buy that discounts all services at the maternity. So the notebooks collect data- the number of cards sold to date. Another, super-thick notebook has written in it: all services provided at the maternity, noted under the card number for each card owner (each card can have 10 people attached to it). This keeps track of the health activities of everyone on that "members card". Thus, when someone comes in for their pre-natal check-up, the information is noted in three places: the registry, the CPN notebook and then, if the person is a card-holding member, in the association notebook under their specific member number. The association cards were completely the idea of the maternity committee members- I just helped them set it up. The cards were printed at shop in Ouelessebougou and then a team of sellers sold them in Bassa and Folona, explaining the benefits. Currently, only women benefit directly from the services at the maternity, but these services will increase when the health students return from Bamako!

In early February, we began a number of "advertising" visits to our surrounding communities. These visits were meant to inform our closest villages about the work of the maternity and to encourage them to come check out our facility. For many of these neighboring villages, Bassa is a much shorter trip than the next nearest health center, making it more convenient and safer than traveling to the other places with pregnant women. Also, the bi-weekly muso konoman peseli, pre-natal consultations, provide a local option for pregnant women who would often choose to go without these check-ups.

The maternity management committee has also selected teams to do village analyses to identify key health issues in the area. I am really excited for these teams to begin their work- first a group will do awareness in Bassa and Folona about the importance of these self-analyses and what would come of the information, followed by a series of questions about sanitation, common health problems, and how the people of Bassa and Folona deal with and treat sicknesses. I hope to receive updates about the work of the maternity and the maternity committee when talking to my homologue and other counterparts. It seems like so far, so good!

Our health students

Whenever I passed through Bamako, I made sure to stop by and visit the two villagers we have sent for health schooling in Bamako. Their midterms happened mid-January and I'm glad to report that they both passed! The young woman dressed in the school's uniform to my right is studying to be the matron who will work next to my host-mother Babintou. She'll offer a fresh set of eyes to the activities at the maternity, becoming the main person in charge of operations. The young man sitting on my left will be the nurse. He will be tasked to address minor illnesses and ailments and to act as the main point of contact with the health center in Keleya. Ideally, they will work together to move the maternity to the next step, progressing to be an even better facility, offering a variety of services beyond births, pre-natal consultations and baby weighings.

They will also involve the surrounding communities in health-awareness activities, helping the villages to identify strengths and weaknesses, sicknesses that need to be addressed in the home rather than waiting until it becomes more serious (prevention and outreach). Yes, I may have high hopes, but I also feel very confident in these students and their gracious sponsor, Madame Sangare. She is in the picture on the far right. I wrote of her before when she righted our relationship with the local health network. She has continued her amazing relationship with our village and has promised to act as the guide and main reference for the maternity. It calms me to know that she is willing and excited to develop this facility, guaranteeing its successful continuation.

In the Garden
Although I did not plant anything the garden for myself this year, I was kept busy with the chores of watering and weeding to help out my host-family with their plots. The NGO who helped provide the fencing and the two wells for the garden came back this year with improved seed types that villagers divided amongst themselves. So we benefited from delicious improved varieties of green peppers, onions, eggplant, lettuce and tomatoes, an amazing salad. There was also another root plant that I did not stay to see the harvest- manioc, or cassava, bananku in Bambara.

Christmas and the New Year

With so much going on, I decided to stay at site for a stint of 6-weeks that included the celebration of Christmas and New Year's. Although my community is completely Muslim, they gladly took the morning of the 25th off to celebrate with me, dancing, singing, preparing our Christmas dinner. The afternoon, I went caroling from household to household, sharing my version of Christmas. For their feast days, people usually get dressed up and go greeting at each household, but those being greeted are supposed to give a gift those those who come greeting. I told them that for Christmas, I didn't expect those small gifts of recognition.

Making "Christmas dinner" with my host family. We had delicious garlic mashed potatoes, among other things.


The paper snowflakes we made together and hung under the hangar at my host family's house. It made it feel a little bit colder, maybe. Even now, snow is almost impossible to explain, but cutting out the paper was fun.

The following week, I decided to spend New Year's Eve with my original host family that lives in my market town of Keleya. They welcomed me, just like they did for the New Year's I spent with them 2 years ago (The New Year 2009.) After doing a radio show in Ouelessebougou, I raced back to Keleya to help my host-mother shopping. We bought the ingredients for a salad with fried plantain, pasta with meat. It was a calm evening that I spent chatting with my host family. At 11pm, we moved into the next stage of the celebration where my host brothers came out with the second round of pasta and chicken (or guinea fowl) and another salad! In addition, they all chipped in to buy cold soda's from the one soda shop in town. I shared a pineapple soda with my host sister.

Like I said, I had spent the New Year's Eve with them two years ago as well and that year we had gone early to the dance club. But this year, my two younger host sisters (see photo below) had decided to go to bed early! I have no idea how they managed to stay up to ring in the new year two years ago when they were 5 and 11, but could not keep their eyes open past 9:30 this year.

Instead my host brother who is the same age as me (far left in photo) and I spend the last hour of 2010 drinking tea and dancing with an 'exclusive' group of his friends. They were too cool for the dance club and so we played music on a stereo and danced in the 'downtown' of my market town, next to the main road that runs between Bamako and Bougouni.

The next day, my younger host brother 'drove' my two host sisters the 5 miles from my market town to my site and we had a slumber party. My host sisters (ages 13 and 7) had been asking me forever when they could come visit- neither of them had ever been to Bassa before and wanted to see where it was that I was living and working. My other host brother picked them up the following day on his motorcycle and took them back to Keleya.

This was yet another "New Year's" party that took place a few days after the new year... in order to spread out the festivities, I'm sure. Another night of eating (massive amounts of fried chicken and spaghetti followed by hot tea with milk and sugar) and dancing, but this time at my village in Bassa with a smaller group of close friends.

Study groupI continued my weekly study group of young women who are no longer attending school because they were needed to help with the chores at home. Studying and chatting with them each week was really enjoyable.

In late January, we moved away from formal study sessions to start a small project. They wanted to organize a sugu, or market, in village. We began collecting items, setting prices, and then decided on a time and a place. They held the market in mid-February, keeping in mind the good business practices we had been discussing in our study sessions. We have added my host brother, Papa, to the team and he will act as our cashier, noting what items are sold and at what price. After the market day, we held a few meetings to discuss how the market went and what improvements could have been made, specifically for our marketing and publicity. The proceeds from this garage-sale-ish market were donated to the maternity.

The Daily Grind
Just a disclaimer about this section: you may be upset or disappointed in my choice of action, but please realize that I feel I made the best decision for myself as a Peace Corps Volunteer and for the community I was serving. I would be up to talk about this and larger development issues with anyone and everyone now that I'm back home!

We held a food security formation in village the last week of September. I wrote a little about it in my last entry. We invited a formateur, or specific trainer, to come and speak with 24 villagers. Using PACA tools, they discussed local food security issues and devised a plan for how Bassa and Folona would work toward their priority needs. They agreed that a grinder would be the most useful and effective way to improve their food security in village- freeing time for women to do other work and set to writing an action plan. This is a machine, run on gasoline, that will grind grains into different consistencies of flour- a food processor for grains. There is also another machine grinder that de-husks rice and millet.

Not a few days after the conclusion of the formation/training, the community held a meeting and chose a committee to work on the grinder project.

In the month of October, the committee held two meetings to discuss the project. They discussed possible locations for the grinder, and did some searching for the prices of the grinding machines and the generator needed to run them. Before I left for the United States in November, I clearly tasked them with meeting regularly and also finding the reminding prices for the project. This included items such as the price of the building materials for the building to house the grinder (did they want cement or mud, metal roofing, how big? how many doors/windows?), the price of gasoline and other inputs to run the grinder, the price for tools needed for fixing the grinder if it ever broke, the price of installation, for transporting the grinder from Bamako where it would be purchased, the price of a training for the women who would, in theory run and manage the grinder after installation. By meeting regularly, even bi-weekly, they could discuss organizational issues, like how they wanted responsibilities to be divided, who they wanted to select to learn to run the grinder, who would be in charge of the management and accounts (the money coming into the grinder and maintenance costs), as well as to compare the prices they found for building supplies and materials. I told the committee that we would discuss options that included their estimates on my return from a trip to the United States. I was clear that I would not be doing any work on this project until I returned.

But perhaps not clear enough, for when I returned from the states, no one from the committee approached me about the grinder. They held no meetings and said nothing. Strangely enough, at the same time, everyone in the village was saying how excited they were for the new grinder that was coming. I was disappointed and upset with the committee because it was obviously the assumption that I would just be getting a grinder for them, although I had explicitly said we were doing this project together and had said that we needed to consider financing options that were not Peace Corps.

(For those of you who do not know, Peace Corps is not a financial institution that automatically funds the projects its volunteers are helping communities put into place. There are plenty of development projects that require absolutely NO funding- for instance, a radio show, activities with the schools, sharing improved gardening techniques, doing awareness days with village. Some may even say that these non-funded development projects are more sustainable with potential for greater impacts than say, a building project. Peace Corps does offer a few financing options- like the Peace Corps Partnership Program that I used to help raise money for the maternity. At the end of the development day, however, it is more effective and efficient to search out local funding options, putting communities in contact with organizations in their area that are already willing to sponsor grants- they are just waiting for a worthy proposal. So that's why I was insisting on Bassa doing the legwork for their project. Once they have practice writing and submitting proposals to local financing organizations, they will have more confidence in doing the same thing again when they come across another project they need help funding, instead of waiting for an NGO or Peace Corps volunteer to come along.)

I waited a month and a half after coming back from the States (January) before letting my homologue/counterpart remind the grinder committee that perhaps they should meet and let me know about their efforts. At the meeting I was very straightforward with the committee, expressing my disappointment. I asked if they had found the remaining prices and they had not. They had told the women's association that soon enough, they would be getting a new grinder. They also had requested and prepared a location for the grinder and began moving in materials, such as rocks. I emphasized that what they had actually done was good, but I had been very specific about the tasks that needed to be accomplished in order for the committee to move forward with the project. Detailed project design and management needed to take place.

They regrouped and began holding weekly meetings. The grinder committee researched the remaining costs and devised a proposal. They asked around about grinders in neighboring communities and found a private contractor who does this for a job. They considered many possible funding options that were not through me or Peace Corps.

They are still meeting and trying to decide how to continue with the project. I consider it a success, although it might seem that I was harsh. I believe it was a lesson that my community had to learn-- that not all formations lead to the NGO or trainer just giving the community what they want. Truly, my community was disappointed, but I think they understood better what Peace Corps is all about.

Full Circle
Towards the end of January, the Utah Alliance, an American/Malian NGO with a presence in Bassa, came to give the third year health training to our community members. Luckily, I have been able to participate in all three of these trainings and have seen the progress, things good and bad, this group has made. It was this group that insisted beginning a weekly village clean-up and now is looking to construct soakpits that will collect dirty standing water that runs out onto the main paths in town. I wish I could be a part of this project, because soakpits seem like such a fantastic idea for improving village sanitation!

Segou music festivalI was able to take a short break from site during the first week in February and travel to Segou for the international "Festival Sur le Niger." During this festival, artists come from all over Mali and West Africa to perform for an international audience. There are also art exhibitions, dances, masks and puppets, fantastic avocado sandwiches and lovely bogolan or mudcloth creations. Last year, my parents and I were able to attend the first few days of concerts and performances before making our way back to my site. This year, the highlights in my opinion, were the superstars Oumou Sangare (a diva from Mali) and Femi Kuti and his entire band from Nigeria. And their dancers. Now back in the United States, I plan to spend a good amount of time collecting my favorite Malian hits and listening to them on a boom-box, just as if I were back in Bassa...
This was a great group from the Bambara (Jula)-speaking area of Burkina Faso called Badenya (perhaps meaning childhood? Or the relationship between parent and child?). They were fantastic!

Replacement
My village requested that another volunteer be placed in Bassa to continue Peace Corps work, specifically focusing at assisting the development of the new maternity and improving village health. This new volunteer will hopefully be a part of the next group arriving in the fall (due to a high demand for volunteers, one will not be placed there right now)!

Peace Corps requires that the community who requests a volunteer provides the housing for that volunteer. The house that I have lived in is wonderful, but it is only "on loan" from someone currently living in Bamako. That's why Bassa villagers decided to build my replacement volunteer a brand new house that is absolutely gorgeous, in my opinion, with a brick wall/fence surrounding it. This house is also closer to another concession, or group of houses, unlike mine, which is set back from the village a little bit.

Donkeys standing in the shade of an old house they tore down in order to built a beautiful new one.

Making the mud bricks for my replacement's new house!

The almost-finished version of the replacement's house. About a month ago, they finished the brick wall/fence. The windows, doors, roofing and front screened-in porch were completed this past weekend. I'm sure that it is gorgeous and wish I were there to see it!

Aw k'an ben

Let us meet again

The end of my service was absolutely packed full of activities... each and every day we had a meeting of some sort (shea butter, grinder, village laws), a visit or fieldtrip (to projects that we were interested in- e.g. a fish farm), or activity at the maternity (CPN or publicity). For that reason, I made a list of people that I needed to say farewell to and started that process early. It may have seemed silly that a month ahead of my COS-date, I had already said goodbyes to those in Bougouni, our regional capital, but because it involves a full day of transport and walking around town, I needed to schedule it to make sure that it happens- that I wouldn't forget anyone. So on a Monday in early February I took transport to Bougouni in the morning, saying goodbye to the family who hosted the two women who participated in training in Bougouni, the doctors who facilitated the trainings and my Keleya host sister who is there studying to be a secretary.

Because greeting is so important in Malian society, I found it necessary to put a lot of effort into making my farewells count- trying to spend a decent amount of time really reflecting on the relationships that I had had with a certain person or family, instead of a just a quick wave. These are the people who have been gracious enough to host me for the past two years and eight months, to patiently deal with my lack of language or cultural sensitivity, and to invite me into their lives on a level that I do not know that I will ever be able to achieve with a large number of Americans (and that's okay!!).

I also had a final day in Ouelessebougou- the town where I do my banking, pick up my mail and have my radio show. Early in the morning, I had to close my post office box, then my bank account, and then I flew to the radio station to be on time for my last show (which I wrote about). I was really glad to have my teammate there to help me on my last show because I did not want to get emotional on-air. From there, I dove into market to search out everyone who I needed to greet- NGOs who I have worked with, families who have connections to Bassa, other friends who I have made from participating in Ouelessebougou activities. It took me until 4:30 in the afternoon to make all the rounds.

There's something really touching about Malian farewells. I'm sure if you are reading any other PC-Mali blogs, that you've already heard about the lefthandshake. For those of you who have not, I've previously mentioned that the lefthand is considered dirty or wrong, so all actions are done using the righthand- people eat with their righthand, they shake with their righthand, the give and receive things (money, items) exclusively with the righthand. Therefore, if someone gives you their lefthand, it is considered an insult.

When leaving, Malians offer you the lefthand. This time, it is not meant to offend, but rather to say "You must return to correct this. We cannot part on bad terms." A simple gesture that brought me to tears each time.

In addition, when saying goodbye, there are a number of phrases that regularly come up. Many of them are blessings, "May god protect you during your travels home, " "May god allow you to return to your family safely," "May you return soon." But the phrase that really meant a lot to me was the request for forgiveness. Before the blessings, the person leaving asks for forgiveness for all they have done to their hosts during their time as a guest and the host says they are forgiven, also asking the guest to forgive them. Another wonderful tradition that provided me with a refreshing sense of closure.

On my last day in village, Bassa had invited (hired) a local singer, her drummers and masked dancers to come entertain us. The masked dancers are called "Sigui" and are supposed to represent the spirit of an antelope-like animal that lives in the forest (I have included two short videos of their dancing below).

The celebration took place in the morning. It began with dancing and singing, followed by speeches from a number of village representatives: the chief of the village, someone from the mayor's office in Keleya, someone from Folona, the two health students, the health promotrice, a Bassa rep from Bamako, the women's association president, and a Malian staff member from Peace Corps, who had agreed to come along.

Then they began to fasa da, or to basically sing the praises of anyone, telling of that person's history and good deeds. Usually this involved a monetary contribution to the entertainers on behalf of that person. That person is pulled from the audience and brought to center stage, where everyone then goes to thank that person, raising their arm in the air- the women drape their scarves on them. And then a dance. We, the women, made one large circle and danced while the singer named off the next person. This went on for quite awhile until everyone had been recognized for their efforts, this time especially for the work that we had done together. I made sure that my homologue/counterpart and my host-mother received the thanks they deserved.

Lunch was served for everyone. Bowls of food were distributed to different households were the crowd then dispersed to go eat. They agreed that after the selifana prayer at 1:30, we would meet again to say a last goodbye.

But of course, it was not the last goodbye. While in Bamako, completing the necessary paperwork, a received daily, if not hourly, phone calls from Malian friends from Bassa and elsewhere who were calling to say bye, to wish me luck on getting into grad school, to give me blessings that would ensure my safe arrival back in the States. It seems that their farewells have done their job!

N sera so

Now I'm home and readjusting back into a number of things. This is a process that will take awhile, so bear with me. I'm definitely willing (and looking forward to!) sharing these experiences and photos with you all in person!

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.