3.19.2011

Just Another Month in Village

February passed so quickly, I hardly noticed a new month started until it was half over. In the past month (and a half) I have been learning more and more about the Malian culture- things that no one told me, and things I haven’t seen or heard of until now. I have chosen a few of my lessons learned to share with you:

1. I have learned that nice little old ladies, who usually are sweet and full of blessings- show NO mercy when is come times to getting a seat on the only bush taxi out of village to the big market up the road. I wish I was kidding –but they literally pushed and shoved me out of the way. Thank goodness my friend Tenna knew this would happen and magically managed to run faster (or push harder) than the old ladies and saved my seat right next to her. Of course since this story is about Mali transportation it goes without saying getting a seat on the rickety old van was the least of my problems. The row of seats Tenna choose for us was the third row- with a broken seat in the middle and tire hump (as if we weren’t already squished as sardines). Tenna was sitting by the window, then me, then the broken seat had been replaced by a sack of rice, occupied by an old man with two chickens (ugh chickens!) seated beside him was another old man, and a lady with a baby-thus filling our row. In case you have forgotten, the road out of my village is rather horrible-it is only 8K however it takes a van like this one about 45 minuntes to an hour to make it to the main road. As I sat enjoying the ride I was trying my best not sweat on and squish Tenna any more than I had to, while at the same time trying not to fall out of my seat on to the man (and his chickens) on the sack of rice. Hanging on to the seat in front of me for support and balance on this bumpy the road, I feel the van pick up some speed- thankful for the rush of air (not cool air, and not exactly fresh air-just air) I feel myself begin to relax a bit and start a conversation with Tenna about all the stuff she would buy at market if she money for everything she wanted. The next few moments were so full of commotion I don’t really even know what or how it exactly happened but the next thing I knew we hit a bump and the row of seats in front of me and all six old ladies crammed into them came falling backwards onto everyone in my row! Apparently when we hit the bump it caused the front legs of seats come unbolted from the floor. As we pushed the old ladies back into the upright positions, I couldn’t help but think HA! You fought me for that seat! Without stopping to check on anyone, or to fix the seats we finally made it the market. After a wonderful day of yalayalaing with Tenna we headed back home, and I’m glad to report that the ride home was surprisingly uneventful.

2. I have learned to ignore, and laugh at daily marriage proposals, however most recently I found out some people are not always joking. My friend Sekouba (Tenna’s husband) pulled me aside one day and said I just wanted to tell you that everyone in village really likes you, especially my family and my close friends and I really want you to meet my brother, Sumyla. Presently he lives and works in Angola but tonight we can call him. What do you think about that? Is that okay? You would just have to greet him and say whatever you like. Thinking sure no problem I can greet someone on the phone. Then as the day went on everyone seemed to be talking about Sumyla and me calling him, and Sekouba’s sister even dug out these old pictures to show me. Finally the time came for “the phone call” Standing under a big mango tree with Sekouba and his two sisters we call Sumyla and I learn that Sekouba, his wives, and sisters sent a picture of me from Sekouba’s son’s baptism party to Sumyla. I learned this because he told me how pretty he thinks I am and oh yeah, he thinks we should get married. I laugh and turn to look at my company who all have a silly grin on their faces, nodding their heads as if to say yeah! He’s serious!! Confused, shocked, and a little flustered I learned that they had a plan. They know how important it is to me that my parents approve of him, so he will write a letter, and send it to Sekouba’s friend who will then translate it into English and send it to my parents. I really don’t think I even replied, I couldn’t get past the fact that this was no a joke! Sumyla and Sekouba talked then and decided to give me four days to decide and then he would call back. Four days! I had four days to convince my very best friends in village why I couldn’t marry their brother, whom I have never met, or seen, and lives in another country. In America this would not be a hard task, however in Mali convincing someone that you can’t marry him is rather silly. I can’t even explain what really happened over the course of the next fours days. The air was so full of excitement and Sekouba’s head was swimming with party plans and future plans of me really being his sister, and family vacations to visit me and Sumyla in American. Every single excuse I came up with as to why I could not marry him, Sekouba had a plan and reason as to how it would work out. Finally I told him that Peace Corps said I cannot get married while I’m serving, I would either have to quit the PC (and at that they would send me straight home) or not get married. Sekouba was a little disappointed however he said Okay, okay we will just have to talk about again in two years. Pheww that was close!

3. I have learned that when a husband dies, the wife cannot leave her house for 40 days, and at the beginning of the 40 days everyone goes to visit, help out, cook, take care of kids and everything. But as the 40 days continues all this help, and company fades away and the wife gets very very bored. Feeling bad for my friend (because I know the feeling of boredom quite well) I tried to visit every other day and tried to think of some form of entertainment, however this gets hard when my language skills are limited. After a few days I ran out of things to talk about, and Abbie ran out of energy trying to explain things to me so we sat and listened to the radio. Then next day that I went for a visit as soon as I got there I knew something was up, Abbie was so excited to see me and offered me a big bowl of porridge and asked if I had been to see Tenna that morning. I said that I had and Abbie was anxious to know what Tenna was talking about. I answered that I didn’t really know, I heard her mention something about the doctor but I did not really understand it all. Smiling Abbie said well, let me tell you… and she continued on sharing the village gossip with me. So today I learned that no one actually comes out and tells you about the village gossip unless they know you already know something about it. I was glad to be in the loop.

4. I learned what the words “Hot Season” actually mean. It. Is. HOT. I have learned that in Africa I am capable of sweating buckets and buckets full while just sitting. It really is getting hotter and hotter by the day- uughh- if only the mangos would ripen a little quicker! All my sweating lead to a conversation with Sekouba about the heat! He warned me that this is just the beginning! I have three months of this heat to deal with! Sekouba went on to say that soon I’m going to be so hot that I’m never going to sleep. Its too hot at night to sleep, and too hot during the day to sleep. I’m going to call my Mama and say how much a HATE Mali. He said it is going to get so hot I’m going to cry and he is going to laugh! Shocked I said Sekouba you would laugh at me if I was crying? But he had no problem reminding me that a few months ago I was the one laughing as he sat around a campfire in long selves saying how much he hated the cold! My house at times is simply unbearable. The mud bricks hold in so much heat and my tin roof doesn’t let it out either so at night I am quite literally sleeping in an oven; or not sleeping, rather just laying there in a pool of sweat fanning myself. I have come to learned that at 2:00 am Malian radio stations play hilarious American music. The first song that threw me back to middle school was, Shaggy’s "It Wasn’t Me."- quite thankful I wasn’t listening to this with my friend who always asked me what the songs are about. The next two were unknown to me but had lyrics like, “Boom boom boom boom I want you in my room room” and “When your in a bad mood just think Sheewowwow!” Laughing I thought it’s a good thing Malians don’t really know what these horrible pop songs are talking about-but then ironically Nelly’s "It’s Getting Hot in Here” came on making think maybe they do know…

5. Most recently I have learned that even though I have been here for almost 9 full months, my “celebrity status” as yet to wear off when it comes to getting to work with me. I have a homologue, who technically is my “work partner” and by Mali standard this title holds a lot of pride. After returning to village from another trip to Bamako I was finally ready and able to start planning some projects. I came back and had a discussion with Sekouba, and my homologue at the same time, because at times I have trouble understanding my homologue’s Frambara (because he still continues to talk to me in French even though I have repeatedly asked him not to) and Sekouba has a way of explaining things to me so I understand them. After explaining that I needed someone to check the prices of materials so I could write up a budget and send it to PC, Sekouba steps up right away and says I’m going to Bougouni on Thursday I can check then. Thinking this is great, work is finally starting, I plan to hold a meeting with the school board on Saturday. Saturdays rolls along and I come to find out that everyone is up in arms about Sekouba helping me and not my homologue, I tried to explain that my homologue was there and could have stepped in and said no but he didn’t but this did not seem to matter. This drama continued for days as I was stuck in the middle of a chauvinistic male-pride roller coaster. Finally I called a meeting at the Dugutiki’s house and put it all out on the table and said this is what needs to be done, I don’t care who does it as long as it gets done! Not very pleased with my American outlook on work, and work roles- what I thought would be a short meeting turned in to a two and half hour long argument ending with Sekouba, and my homologue helping me do everything.

6. Lastly I have learned that as the days, months, and heat continue I will never stop learning (and sweating). I will never stop learning about Malian culture, and ways of doing things, nor will I stop learning more and more about myself.