My life from Notre Dame and my current vie here is Mali collided for the past 9ish days, with phenomenal results.
One of my best friends from college took a break from his constitutional law research in Germany to trek down to Sub-saharan Africa. Before his arrival last Monday night, I was worried that even a short 9 days would prove to be too much for any of my potential visitors. Of course, this was an unnecessary underestimation of my friend's ability to roll with the punches, although I, myself, am still trying to figure this out.
We woke up early the morning after Grant (Siaka Samake-- pronounced Shaw-Ka Sah-ma-kay--the male elephant, as I named him) got in and took a bus to Sevare. Forgetting the fact that my knuckles turned white while bus drove way too fast around some sharp turns, Grant's first sojourn on public transport in Mali was relatively painless. We even made it all the way to Sangha that day and began our time in Dogon Country.
Although I was only in Dogon a little over a month ago for Christmas, the sights were just as beautiful and the hiking was just as fun-- it might have been even more so getting to share the diversity of Mali with such a good friend from home. We finished our two and a half day hike and headed to my site, which is quite a contrast to the desert and cliffs of the north.
We made it to my original homestay village for market day, visited my amazing family and did our "grocery" shopping before jumping on the one taxi minibus that goes to my village each week. I had only used this minibus once before and had almost forgotten how nerve-wrecking the trip would be on the dusty bike path to my village. After a good bucket bath and short nap, we dove into my pre-established routine of dinner with my host family and after dinner conversation at my homologue's house.
On Tuesday, we spent the morning greeting everyone in village. Most everyone was disappointed to find out that he wasn't staying for long, either in village or in Mali, but was glad that he had been able to visit me. Of course, I think that I was more glad than all of them, combined. And glad that Siaka made it through without getting sick! He left last night and safely made it back to Germany with plenty of photos and memories that will hold him over until we meet again, probably state-side.
Tomorrow I will head back to site again to get back into the swing of things with my village. I have really missed them! While I was away, my women's group took the initiative to collect dues and plan their next meeting. Their enthusiasm to move ahead with their association makes me very excited to return. The money from the sale of their shea butter will help with their recipisse, or legal recognition, and any other small start up costs. Getting into good habits now and regular meetings will provide for a better foundation in the long run.
Back to site, back to work, back to Madjo Bagayogo.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Nenajeke (celebating)
A lot has happened since Thanksgiving- the refining and selling of our women's shea butter in Bamako, Eid, Christmas in Dogon country (near Bandiagara- check it out on a map), and New Year's with my initial homestay family a hour south of Bamako. Of course, I would love to go into detail about every moment, but alas, a brief summary of the events will have to do for now.
Daily life (the random stuff that everyone asks about)
I've begun eating and liking a lot of things that I refused to touch in the states, including cucumbers (see ginormous example below), watermelon, and oatmeal. These are to supplement my normal meals of to (ground up millet gelatinized patty thing) and fish sauce, seri/moni/bagan (corn/rice/millet porridge), and the occasional rice dish. My village has started to work extensively on their gardens since harvesting season is over and I'm more than excited for the upcoming influx of delicious vegetables or nakofen in Bambara, meaning things from the garden. Spending time planting has really peaked my interest in the possibility of doing a formation on garden improvements, such as pumping techniques, better seed varieties, and introducing new plants. AND it gets me to thinking about what I might want to plant in my own garden... mmm... if only berries grew in Mali.
Here are two pictures of the inside of my house. I didn't want to include my second room just yet because I'm in the process of getting an actual bed-- I had done without until now, but figure that I'm here for the long run and might as well really move in! Make this house my own! The pictures and letters on the wall have only increased in number since this photo was taken, so thanks! They make fantastically readable wallpaper. The first picture is your entry into my house, the window covered in the back by my "skurtain" as I like to call it-- haha-- just an old skirt that was a little too short for Mali that cut in half, perfectly made two curtains for my house. My table is wonderful, thanks to the previous volunteer, but I am hardly ever in my house to use it since I eat every meal with my host family. The table on the right hand side in the second picture is my kitchen with my two burner gas stove that I use pretty regularly for cooking pasta, tea, rice, oatmeal and other goodies.
One day in December, my village borrowed a large scale from a neighboring village to weigh our cotton crop from this year. I found this generally intriguing since (a.) never really seen cotton grown before, and (b.) all of the work I did on the farm bill and cotton subsidies while working with the Africa Faith and Justice Network (check out the movie Bamako if you're interested... it's in French and Bambara, just fyi). Supposedly my village didn't produce a great crop this year (over 6,000 kg seemed like a lot to me!) and they're still in the midst of paying off a loan taken out last year... I'm not quite sure that I understand it all yet, but hopefully we'll figure it out.
Seliba.Eid.Tabaski
Here are two pictures of the inside of my house. I didn't want to include my second room just yet because I'm in the process of getting an actual bed-- I had done without until now, but figure that I'm here for the long run and might as well really move in! Make this house my own! The pictures and letters on the wall have only increased in number since this photo was taken, so thanks! They make fantastically readable wallpaper. The first picture is your entry into my house, the window covered in the back by my "skurtain" as I like to call it-- haha-- just an old skirt that was a little too short for Mali that cut in half, perfectly made two curtains for my house. My table is wonderful, thanks to the previous volunteer, but I am hardly ever in my house to use it since I eat every meal with my host family. The table on the right hand side in the second picture is my kitchen with my two burner gas stove that I use pretty regularly for cooking pasta, tea, rice, oatmeal and other goodies.
One day in December, my village borrowed a large scale from a neighboring village to weigh our cotton crop from this year. I found this generally intriguing since (a.) never really seen cotton grown before, and (b.) all of the work I did on the farm bill and cotton subsidies while working with the Africa Faith and Justice Network (check out the movie Bamako if you're interested... it's in French and Bambara, just fyi). Supposedly my village didn't produce a great crop this year (over 6,000 kg seemed like a lot to me!) and they're still in the midst of paying off a loan taken out last year... I'm not quite sure that I understand it all yet, but hopefully we'll figure it out.
Seliba.Eid.TabaskiI appreciated Seliba more after my homologue (coworker in village) explained the significance: that it is the celebration of the story of Abraham and the sacrifice of a ram instead of his son. For two days we ate a lot of sheep, greeted, played soccer, greeted/gave blessings, took pictures, got dressed up, ate more sheep (I was actually kind of frustrated with the amount of meat I was given).
My friend Ami and I got "uniforms" made for Seliba. When greeting people on Seliba, you walk around the village with your friends and people give you small change if they like your blessings/hair style/outfit. It kind of reminded me of Halloween and trick or treating in that sense.
The henna that my homestay sister did for me. It was really pretty.
Okay, I love this picture. You probably can't really tell everything that's going on, so that's why I'll tell you: My little homestay sister is in the foreground in her snowsuit, haha. I always think that's so ironic. It was probably in the low 70s at this point. In the midground on the right hand side is the shadow of another host sis last-minute braiding someone's hair the morning of Seli. Finally, in the background the guys are in the process of slaughtering a sheep... another thing I had never seen before, and probably could go without seeing ever again. But that's when I think of how sterile our lives are in America and the distance we are from the reality of such processes. We often take for granted the steak that somehow ends up on our plate in restaurant. Then again, I don't really mind so much not having to see my meat alive one minute and not alive the next.
So, the festivities of Seliba continued well into the next week for some communities, including the next village over (1km from my village). They had invited sigui dancers to come and join in the celebration. The Sigui are the traditional masked dancers from different regions of Mali. Each mask represents a different animal or concept. This was my first taste of the stereotypical "African" dance and ceremony, but it was good because it was REAL-- not like a show that was being put on for me, as I often feel is the case. Everyone had come out to watch... and I mean everyone, including the mayor and the dugutigis from a lot of the surrounding villages. The first picture is an action shot and then I tried to include a video-- we'll see if it works out.
The henna that my homestay sister did for me. It was really pretty.Okay, I love this picture. You probably can't really tell everything that's going on, so that's why I'll tell you: My little homestay sister is in the foreground in her snowsuit, haha. I always think that's so ironic. It was probably in the low 70s at this point. In the midground on the right hand side is the shadow of another host sis last-minute braiding someone's hair the morning of Seli. Finally, in the background the guys are in the process of slaughtering a sheep... another thing I had never seen before, and probably could go without seeing ever again. But that's when I think of how sterile our lives are in America and the distance we are from the reality of such processes. We often take for granted the steak that somehow ends up on our plate in restaurant. Then again, I don't really mind so much not having to see my meat alive one minute and not alive the next.So, the festivities of Seliba continued well into the next week for some communities, including the next village over (1km from my village). They had invited sigui dancers to come and join in the celebration. The Sigui are the traditional masked dancers from different regions of Mali. Each mask represents a different animal or concept. This was my first taste of the stereotypical "African" dance and ceremony, but it was good because it was REAL-- not like a show that was being put on for me, as I often feel is the case. Everyone had come out to watch... and I mean everyone, including the mayor and the dugutigis from a lot of the surrounding villages. The first picture is an action shot and then I tried to include a video-- we'll see if it works out.
Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays, except Mali
Thanks to everyone who sent holiday e-mails, wishes, packages, letters, calls, thoughts, facebook messages, etc, my first Christmas away from home didn't feel all that away from home. I think that this also had to do with the fact that I was with an amazing group of PC Volunteers, hiking the cliffs of Dogon. Absolutely gorgeous! It's amazing to me the diversity that Mali has to offer-- from the lush greens of Sikasso region to the stunning rock formations in Mopti, which isn't including the variations in cultures, languages, and religions. We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas just relaxing before heading out on our 3 day hike.
The Tellem people once inhabited the cliffs of Dogon, but since have left. The Dogon people's villages are not built into the cliffs, but are rather at the base of them.
Just a few from the top of one of the cliffs on our descent back into the sandy desert.
The Dogon sigui (see above). Very colorful and entertaining. I have a video of this, too, but it was too big to add here. Later. And check out the guy on stilts in the back.
A current day Dogon village at the base of a cliff (still on the sideish) in order to save the flat/non-rock ground for farming. Quite a trek down to get water daily.
This last picture is another view from the top. There's a lake (not a mirage, I promise) and a village in the bottom left corner.
Thanks to everyone who sent holiday e-mails, wishes, packages, letters, calls, thoughts, facebook messages, etc, my first Christmas away from home didn't feel all that away from home. I think that this also had to do with the fact that I was with an amazing group of PC Volunteers, hiking the cliffs of Dogon. Absolutely gorgeous! It's amazing to me the diversity that Mali has to offer-- from the lush greens of Sikasso region to the stunning rock formations in Mopti, which isn't including the variations in cultures, languages, and religions. We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas just relaxing before heading out on our 3 day hike.
The Tellem people once inhabited the cliffs of Dogon, but since have left. The Dogon people's villages are not built into the cliffs, but are rather at the base of them.
Just a few from the top of one of the cliffs on our descent back into the sandy desert.
The Dogon sigui (see above). Very colorful and entertaining. I have a video of this, too, but it was too big to add here. Later. And check out the guy on stilts in the back.
A current day Dogon village at the base of a cliff (still on the sideish) in order to save the flat/non-rock ground for farming. Quite a trek down to get water daily.This last picture is another view from the top. There's a lake (not a mirage, I promise) and a village in the bottom left corner.For New Year's, I headed back to my intial homestay and celebrated with the fam. We ate well and then headed out to the donkeyoro (dance place), which is mostly a concrete-fenced in area with a covered stage. We danced to DJed Malian music until midnight and set off some sparklers. All in all, a good time.
Well, that's about it. In-service training begins in a week. I'll be headed back to our training village outside of Bamako for three weeks of cross-sectoral and technical training so that we can get things moving! I'm excited to be learning, but know that three weeks of sitting will make me more than ansy. And then Grant comes! :-)
Hope that your holidays were just as enjoyable.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Oh shea! (and Thanksgiving)
Oh Shea!
Here is a picture of some kids shelling shea nuts, which has a tendency to take place at all times of the day and night. It's a great activity for socializing.
Here is a picture of my friend beating her ground (and now semi-liquid) shea paste. It's hard work and more fun when a group of women get together to kolo gosi or beat the nuts. The white part on the top is the emulsifying fats rising. The bowl of dark chocolate looking substance in the back left is the ground shea paste pre-beating. The women in my village usually meet once a week to beat their butter. After it is beaten, the whiter part is skimmed off to be heated and then left to solidify (which can take 2-3 days, depending on the quantity).
Daily Living
Finally! A blog about what I'm doing in Mali. Thank goodness.
One of my main projects in my community will be working with our women's association to produce a better quality shea butter and find a buyer interested in offering them a good price. Shea itself is pretty cool-- you can eat the fruit to get the nut, and then your opportunities are endless! Butter to be used as a cooking oil, a lotion, a pommade or even soap! The butter made from the shea found throughout the sahel region of Africa has a high melting point compared to another type of shea in central/east Africa, making it wonderful for the production of chocolate that won't melt... so it's a magical thing, and a lot of fun.
In the mean time, while waiting for next shea collection season to start from the beginning of nut collection with good practices, I'm in the midst of working with the women's association to get their recipice-- or an official document that allows them to sell their products as an association. This has been hard for many reasons, but mostly because of the need of internal organization and structure that has been disrupted by the coming of harvest season (and everyone heads out to the fields to return exhausted later in the evening). Hopefully this will be something we can accomplish by the time I leave to celebrate Christmas!
Here is a picture of some kids shelling shea nuts, which has a tendency to take place at all times of the day and night. It's a great activity for socializing.
Here is a picture of my friend beating her ground (and now semi-liquid) shea paste. It's hard work and more fun when a group of women get together to kolo gosi or beat the nuts. The white part on the top is the emulsifying fats rising. The bowl of dark chocolate looking substance in the back left is the ground shea paste pre-beating. The women in my village usually meet once a week to beat their butter. After it is beaten, the whiter part is skimmed off to be heated and then left to solidify (which can take 2-3 days, depending on the quantity).
Daily Living
Another picture of my house and negen (bathroom- concrete structure to the left of my house)
I'm also working with my women on the selling of sumbala, or a local spice they use when cooking. Many of the women will make a batch (ingredients include datu and nere, two plants/spices not really found in America, at least to my knowledge). This is a picture of the day I helped to roll the sumbala. Honestly, it doesn't smell to good to me, and it looks like a submarine without a periscope, but they do use it when flavoring my food and I can't complain tooooo much.
Thanksgiving in Sikasso
I'm also working with my women on the selling of sumbala, or a local spice they use when cooking. Many of the women will make a batch (ingredients include datu and nere, two plants/spices not really found in America, at least to my knowledge). This is a picture of the day I helped to roll the sumbala. Honestly, it doesn't smell to good to me, and it looks like a submarine without a periscope, but they do use it when flavoring my food and I can't complain tooooo much.
Thanksgiving in SikassoIf I had to give up American football on Thanksgiving for one thing, beautiful waterfalls would be it and that's exactly what I was able to enjoy this Thanksgiving. After stuffing ourselves silly on Thanksgiving (and I did end up getting cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie), a good number of us headed to the waterfalls south of Sikasso. It was marvellous.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Ne photo ta!
(take my picture!!) So, I haven't taken as many pictures as I would have liked to simply because of the chaos that it creates as soon as my pink camera case comes out of my bag. Here are some select photos that I have been meaning to put up for a while, but just haven't gotten the chance... A substantial update and story about shea butter selling is in the works to be posted Thanksgivingish time, hopefully! Happy Turkey Day in advance. Please eat as many cranberries as possible for me-- not sure if we'll get them here.Animals
This is one of my favorite pictures of a beautiful bug on millet, taken just before the harvest! Too bad millet doesn't taste as wonderful as this picture does...
The possible monitor lizard that I wrote about last night. Yikes!
Baby antelope, anyone? They say they are really difficult to catch and I haven't seen any others than this one.
So sweet so
Pictures of my house and random parts of my village. This is the entrance to town. The very first building on the right side is the school.
This is just a beautiful sunrise. If you look closely enough, you can see the donkey hanging out. A few ears of corn are in the foreground... unfortunately corn harvesting season is over now.
Our gorgeous mosque. Yes, with papaya trees out front.
The view from the back of the mosque at sunrise.
The view out my front door. I have a nice "gwa" or thatched shaded area where children and goats like to play. The next building is the back of my neighbor's concession.
The view from the back of the mosque at sunrise.The view out my front door. I have a nice "gwa" or thatched shaded area where children and goats like to play. The next building is the back of my neighbor's concession.
Out my back window-- the same trees that I adored from the beginning are still amazing, even as they start to lose their leaves as we move into the dry season. And yes, there are goats on my partial wall.
The town center and the location for a decent number of random dance parties. Women will gather here during the day to su-su or pound things like millet, corn and rice with the kolon or huge mortar and pestle. The path to the left goes to my house.
I had never seen cotton being harvested before. Pretty cool.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
Yay Election!
Before I actually write this message, I would just like to congratulate our nation on another successful democratic election. Way to go USA! Even without me there and without the timely arrival of my absentee ballot (UGH), it went off wonderfully and now I am suffering from a severe lack of sleep, since we stayed up for Obama's speech, which was at around 4:30ish am our time. I'm more than content right now. Exhausted, but happy.
Wait, did you say bears?
Okay, so back to the blog. None of the above listed in the title, really. Sorry for getting your hopes up. It's more like monitor lizards, mice, and scorpions, oh my! Just as scary when you read about the bacterial-ridden mouth of the lizard, the thought that my good food might be eaten (including my peanut butter) and that the smaller scorpions are actually the more poisionous of the scorpions-- and I've had more than my share in and around my house. Exciting the first time. Nerve-wracking the second, third, and fourth when I have to plan an escape route before getting out of my mosquito net tent just in case things get bad in my attempt to ward off the second two. Luckily for me, I have yet to find the monitor lizard anywhere near town... my town says that they live in the forests, so that's why I'm not going there any time soon. The picture I have of this 2 1/2 ft (at least) beast is coming, but again, the lack of adequate internet is preventing me from sharing that.
Celebration of successes
My small victories of the past few weeks include: (1.) successfully travelling to the larger village about an hour a way and filling my gas tank to hook up to my three burner mini-stove in a certain time limit because the tank was too heavy to bring any way that wasn't by car, which only comes once at certain times on market day. Phew! Which led me to... (2.) making French toast with cinnamon and sharing it with my host family, who doesn't like it as much as I do and therefore let me eat most of it! It even made my house smell delicious for the next few days. (3.) Making curtains for my windows out of an old skirt that I couldn't wear anymore. You would be surprised how some curtains really spruce up a home.
The Hundred Shea-acre Woods
I've drawn a map of the route that I take whenever I bike the 8km to the road for market or for language tutoring. I'm not so sure why I'm proud of this, but I've named most of the sections of my road. It definitely makes the trip more enjoyable and let's me think of home or other happy thoughts. Again, I have pictures, but they will have to wait for another day. Until then, let your imagination don a bicycle helmet and travel with me on a typically day:
First, when leaving village, I take route 345. For those of you from home, you'll probably figure out that this is the road that goes by the school before heading on to bigger and better things. The first hill is Red Rocks, PA named mostly because of the red rocks. The top of the hill is called Leischman's Pt and sits just outside of view of town, but reminds me that I'm almost there on my way home. Myrtle Beach is the first of two really sandy sections of the road-- really annoying during rainy season because mud is almost more difficult to bike through than sand... almost because you often will end up getting of your bike to push your way through anyway. Since the rainy season has officially ended, I won't be seeing that mud anymore until next June! Agrocrag-- isn't that what the huge mountain was called on the Nickelodeon show "Guts"? Well, there's a mini-one here. It's hard.
The Hundred Shea-acre Woods is what I'm calling my region in general because of the vast number of shea trees there and the innumerable shea nuts that have been collected and will be collected. At this point in my trip, the shea trees become more apparent out in the fields (of corn, millet, cotton, sesame, etc). The wide open spaces, recently razed to clear the tall grasses are Lion King inspired-- the Pride Lands. The first two are called Nala and Simba. Like I said, no lions, though, so it's more that I just picture that part in the movie where Simba looks on the pride lands and is sad because of the lack of food. Rafiki field comes next. Supposedly other volunteers have seen monkeys there, although I've missed them the bazillion times I've ridden by so far. Oh well. I know that rafiki is swahili and actually doesn't even mean monkey, but rather friend. Meh. Again with the Lion King theme are the Pride Rocks at the end of Rafiki field and at the peak of a small hill, which becomes Pride Lands #2, Zazu on the other side. Unlike Simba field, I have seen Zazu birds there.
The Great Divide is just a split in the road and then Global Guts (this Agrocrag is twice as long as the first). Finally we arrive at Daytona Beach with more sand and can stop at the well I've deemed the Pit Stop to get water. Well, I can't. The High Road inspires the lilty song in my head. This was one of the first areas on my trip that I learned to recognize. I'm still not sure if the low road was dug purposely to collect water during the rainy season-- the drain or ditch of sorts, or if it is the former road, now abandoned because of it's tendency to be more of a river than a path.
Then comes the 7th Inning Stretch (or 3rd if you're going home). A whole bunch of nothing exciting. Included in the 7th inning stretch are the mines where they make charcoal. It's not mined, but smoked... I'm not really sure how they do it, actually. Yogi Berra is what I've named the fork in the road (I take it every time). And then we approach South Bend, the final turn that signals the end of the 7th inning stretch.
Troubled Bridge Over Water is not really a bridge and not really water, but enough so that during the rainy season this section of the road is almost impassable. Again, musical inspiration. After the bridge we reach the Thruway that gets pretty heavy with traffic on market days... I'll usually have to pass a donkey cart or two. The first exit takes you to the Rapids: a section of really bad road that would be treacherous to walk, swim, or kayak, let alone bike, during the rainy season. You have to know just where to go or you'll drop suddenly into a pit or pool of water. Kinda scary even when it's completely dry.
The last section I've named Custard's Last Stand for no reason other than I wanted to... that's what kept popping into my head! It has a slight grade, but isn't really that daunting at all. Because then you arrive at the Banana (Mango) Split or two huge mango trees that welcome you at the top of the hill. You have arrived. Finally, I bike through the Stage Door to get to Hollabaugh's or a small mango grove that reminds me of the fruit orchards of Pennsylvania.
Now all you have to do is try to picture it. It's a ton of fun.
Are you working yet?
Yes, yes, the magical question. Like I said before, I'm expected to integrate first before doing any real "work," but I have really enjoyed my time so far hanging out with my villagers and heading out into the fields. I've pulled peanuts, husked a ton of corn, among other things. It's absolutely amazing to see where all of our pre-packaged madness in American actually comes from and the effort that it takes to farm, harvest, prepare and store. Being in the fields also helps me to realize how difficult the agrarian lifestyle is... I'm exhausted usually by mid-afternoon and ready for my evening bucket bath.
I'm still attempting to work with my women to get them registered as a real women's association, but because it IS harvesting time, coordinating a meeting has become difficult. Soon, things will start to be more focused once all of the crops have been harvested. Malians LOVE the question: "Can you find THIS in America?" Corn and peanuts, yes. Other things like the guava and papaya are a little lacking in the states.
This was a pretty random entry, I know. Apologies. :-) I'm pretty sure the next time I may be internet bound is Thanksgiving. So until then!
Before I actually write this message, I would just like to congratulate our nation on another successful democratic election. Way to go USA! Even without me there and without the timely arrival of my absentee ballot (UGH), it went off wonderfully and now I am suffering from a severe lack of sleep, since we stayed up for Obama's speech, which was at around 4:30ish am our time. I'm more than content right now. Exhausted, but happy.
Wait, did you say bears?
Okay, so back to the blog. None of the above listed in the title, really. Sorry for getting your hopes up. It's more like monitor lizards, mice, and scorpions, oh my! Just as scary when you read about the bacterial-ridden mouth of the lizard, the thought that my good food might be eaten (including my peanut butter) and that the smaller scorpions are actually the more poisionous of the scorpions-- and I've had more than my share in and around my house. Exciting the first time. Nerve-wracking the second, third, and fourth when I have to plan an escape route before getting out of my mosquito net tent just in case things get bad in my attempt to ward off the second two. Luckily for me, I have yet to find the monitor lizard anywhere near town... my town says that they live in the forests, so that's why I'm not going there any time soon. The picture I have of this 2 1/2 ft (at least) beast is coming, but again, the lack of adequate internet is preventing me from sharing that.
Celebration of successes
My small victories of the past few weeks include: (1.) successfully travelling to the larger village about an hour a way and filling my gas tank to hook up to my three burner mini-stove in a certain time limit because the tank was too heavy to bring any way that wasn't by car, which only comes once at certain times on market day. Phew! Which led me to... (2.) making French toast with cinnamon and sharing it with my host family, who doesn't like it as much as I do and therefore let me eat most of it! It even made my house smell delicious for the next few days. (3.) Making curtains for my windows out of an old skirt that I couldn't wear anymore. You would be surprised how some curtains really spruce up a home.
The Hundred Shea-acre Woods
I've drawn a map of the route that I take whenever I bike the 8km to the road for market or for language tutoring. I'm not so sure why I'm proud of this, but I've named most of the sections of my road. It definitely makes the trip more enjoyable and let's me think of home or other happy thoughts. Again, I have pictures, but they will have to wait for another day. Until then, let your imagination don a bicycle helmet and travel with me on a typically day:
First, when leaving village, I take route 345. For those of you from home, you'll probably figure out that this is the road that goes by the school before heading on to bigger and better things. The first hill is Red Rocks, PA named mostly because of the red rocks. The top of the hill is called Leischman's Pt and sits just outside of view of town, but reminds me that I'm almost there on my way home. Myrtle Beach is the first of two really sandy sections of the road-- really annoying during rainy season because mud is almost more difficult to bike through than sand... almost because you often will end up getting of your bike to push your way through anyway. Since the rainy season has officially ended, I won't be seeing that mud anymore until next June! Agrocrag-- isn't that what the huge mountain was called on the Nickelodeon show "Guts"? Well, there's a mini-one here. It's hard.
The Hundred Shea-acre Woods is what I'm calling my region in general because of the vast number of shea trees there and the innumerable shea nuts that have been collected and will be collected. At this point in my trip, the shea trees become more apparent out in the fields (of corn, millet, cotton, sesame, etc). The wide open spaces, recently razed to clear the tall grasses are Lion King inspired-- the Pride Lands. The first two are called Nala and Simba. Like I said, no lions, though, so it's more that I just picture that part in the movie where Simba looks on the pride lands and is sad because of the lack of food. Rafiki field comes next. Supposedly other volunteers have seen monkeys there, although I've missed them the bazillion times I've ridden by so far. Oh well. I know that rafiki is swahili and actually doesn't even mean monkey, but rather friend. Meh. Again with the Lion King theme are the Pride Rocks at the end of Rafiki field and at the peak of a small hill, which becomes Pride Lands #2, Zazu on the other side. Unlike Simba field, I have seen Zazu birds there.
The Great Divide is just a split in the road and then Global Guts (this Agrocrag is twice as long as the first). Finally we arrive at Daytona Beach with more sand and can stop at the well I've deemed the Pit Stop to get water. Well, I can't. The High Road inspires the lilty song in my head. This was one of the first areas on my trip that I learned to recognize. I'm still not sure if the low road was dug purposely to collect water during the rainy season-- the drain or ditch of sorts, or if it is the former road, now abandoned because of it's tendency to be more of a river than a path.
Then comes the 7th Inning Stretch (or 3rd if you're going home). A whole bunch of nothing exciting. Included in the 7th inning stretch are the mines where they make charcoal. It's not mined, but smoked... I'm not really sure how they do it, actually. Yogi Berra is what I've named the fork in the road (I take it every time). And then we approach South Bend, the final turn that signals the end of the 7th inning stretch.
Troubled Bridge Over Water is not really a bridge and not really water, but enough so that during the rainy season this section of the road is almost impassable. Again, musical inspiration. After the bridge we reach the Thruway that gets pretty heavy with traffic on market days... I'll usually have to pass a donkey cart or two. The first exit takes you to the Rapids: a section of really bad road that would be treacherous to walk, swim, or kayak, let alone bike, during the rainy season. You have to know just where to go or you'll drop suddenly into a pit or pool of water. Kinda scary even when it's completely dry.
The last section I've named Custard's Last Stand for no reason other than I wanted to... that's what kept popping into my head! It has a slight grade, but isn't really that daunting at all. Because then you arrive at the Banana (Mango) Split or two huge mango trees that welcome you at the top of the hill. You have arrived. Finally, I bike through the Stage Door to get to Hollabaugh's or a small mango grove that reminds me of the fruit orchards of Pennsylvania.
Now all you have to do is try to picture it. It's a ton of fun.
Are you working yet?
Yes, yes, the magical question. Like I said before, I'm expected to integrate first before doing any real "work," but I have really enjoyed my time so far hanging out with my villagers and heading out into the fields. I've pulled peanuts, husked a ton of corn, among other things. It's absolutely amazing to see where all of our pre-packaged madness in American actually comes from and the effort that it takes to farm, harvest, prepare and store. Being in the fields also helps me to realize how difficult the agrarian lifestyle is... I'm exhausted usually by mid-afternoon and ready for my evening bucket bath.
I'm still attempting to work with my women to get them registered as a real women's association, but because it IS harvesting time, coordinating a meeting has become difficult. Soon, things will start to be more focused once all of the crops have been harvested. Malians LOVE the question: "Can you find THIS in America?" Corn and peanuts, yes. Other things like the guava and papaya are a little lacking in the states.
This was a pretty random entry, I know. Apologies. :-) I'm pretty sure the next time I may be internet bound is Thanksgiving. So until then!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
