In Peace Corps we spend a lot of time learning about safety and security measures (16 hours to be exact) we review basic knowledge things like pick pocketing and purse protection, robbery, bribes, but we also spend time reviewing the safety and security in the case of evacuation. When we first get here it seems kind of silly to talk about getting evacuated, especially in Mali. When Peace Corps has been in Mali for 46 years, it is easy to think of Peace Corps as an institution. Malians know more about Peace Corps than most Americans do. Before we are moved into our villages Peace Corps finds out the best way to contact us, whether it be by cell phone, landline, radio, or, call a neighbor, and the fastest way to get to us. We review the fastest, safest and best way for us as volunteers to come together in one area, and who our points of contact are. As part of our required training we learn the three steps of emergency, 1) Stand fast: don’t leave, stay where you are and wait for further instruction. 2) Consolidation: come together in a safe place, that Peace Corps can reach you easily. 3) Evacuation: Peace Corps removes you from danger.
Over the past 21 months that we have spent in Mali, we have put this training to use very few times. The times we have had to do it all had to do with the Tureg Rebellion in the North of Mali, and the kidnappings they performed. Our safety was never a question. The Tureg Rebellion was so far away from where Peace Corps even lets us travel or work. Americans in general were never a target.
The last week of March I spent acting a paintin fool! Painting world maps, Africa Maps ,Mali maps, maps, maps, maps all over my village. When I wasn’t painting I was spending my time with Seydou, tying him to my back and yalaing the village. I had just run out of permanent markers after outlining each country and still needed to write the names of the countries on the map. I was planning on heading into Bougouni to get more markers, stop at the post office, get food at the market, and spend some time on the internet before coming back to village the next morning. I woke up early Thursday morning and jumped on my bike and made my way into Bougouni. My first stop was the bank atm, followed by making all my usual stops at the market and visiting all my favorite vendors, lastly I went to the post office to pick up my mail and I noticed that another volunteer had mail too, so I called her to see if she wanted me to get her mail too and that is when I learned that the there had been a Coup de tait in Mali. My fellow volunteer had just received a text from Peace Corps stating that the military had rushed the Presidential Palace and Mali government was now under military rule. We were advised to standfast and not travel from where we currently were. At this point there were five other volunteers and I stuck in Bougouni. We had little information, but did our best to look up the news online, speculate, and conjure up as many worst/ best case scenarios as possible. This went on for the remainder of Thursday and Friday, when we woke up to a text from Peace Corps stating that all volunteers in villages should travel to the nearest consolidation point and remain there until further notice. By Saturday evening the three room Bougouni house was full and overflowing with people, and emotions. By Sunday morning breakfast I am sure we had speculated every possible scenario we could possibly come up with as to what was going to happen next.
What really was happening was that ATT the previous president was choosing not to inform the Malians as to what was really happening with the Tureg Rebellion in the north. He had demanded the national television and radio stations NOT to report on what was happening. When the most recent troop of Malian soldiers were sent to the North, captured and killed, a few escaped and made their way back to Bamako and started a riot, protesting the presidents’ power, and ability to lead a nation. Elections for a new president were to take place on April 29th, but the military felt that no lead way would be made with the Turegs in the north even with a new president so they decided to take over and attempt to right all wrongs themselves. However, once in power, their poorly assembled plan started to fall apart so they placed curfews on the country, closed the banks, post offices, government offices and limited travel to the capital. The curfew was to be lifted on Tuesday morning.
I can’t really describe the how we got through those first four days of consolidation. We were on a crazy emotional roller-coaster, feeling sad and upset for not being able to explain to our villages what was happening and how it affected us, being tired, tired of each other and tired of so much being unknown. One can only guess and speculate for so long before it drives you crazy! Peace Corps was keeping in good contact, and giving us daily information. Our Country Director was staying positive and kept telling us that evacuation was not eminent, and that we should stay calm and plan to be heading back to village soon.
Once the military curfews were lifted we were still in consolidation and asked to wait two more days, then two more days after that. When the week mark came and went we were sure we were headed home. Then suddenly we all received messages that we were able to go back to our villages for a while as long as we had cell phone service and could keep in daily contact with Peace Corps. Thankful to receive such a good message I ran to the market and stalked up on all the best ingredients to have Tenna cook me my favorite Malian meal. Early the next morning (Tuesday April 3rd) I woke up to rain and thought this must be a sign I shouldn’t go back to village today but I really missed Tenna and Seydou and really needed to get out of the Bougouni House, So I waited until the rain had mostly stopped and jumped on my bike loaded down with food and biked back to Sakoro. Having been away from my house for more than a week I had a lot of cleaning to do which I started right after getting in touch with Peace Corps to tell them where I was. After my floor was mopped and sheets washed I was just about to leave to spend the rest of the day with Tenna when I got a phone call from another volunteer saying I needed to get back to Bougouni as soon as possible that Peace Corps was consolidating us, sending a car and taking us all to the training center in Bamako. I went into panic mode. I started running around my house grabbing things that can’t be replaced, or had some meaning to them, while making a pile for Tenna to take. Once satisfied with my rushed packing job I grabbed all the food I bought and ran to Tenna’s.
As soon as I saw Tenna I started crying, seeing me so upset knowing that I couldn’t be bringing good news, Tenna started crying too. I told her What was going on and that I needed to leave again and probably would not be back. Tenna went with me to see the Dugutiki, and other important people in my village to explain what was going on. In Mali it is culturally unacceptable to cry in public. Tenna walked me back to my house to get my house key and say our final goodbyes. We both looked each other in the eye saying don’t cry! don’t cry! while we were both crying our eyes out. I did a very American goodbye and wrapped my arms around Tenna and kissed her tear stained cheeks and thanked her for being my best friend. Tenna accepted my hug and kisses and offered me her left hand to shake- the most respectable way to say goodbye in Mali. I took her left hand in mine and shook, making the promise that I would return to correct this wrong someday.
I jumped back on my bike and pedaled my little heart out all the way back to Bougouni. Upon arrival I found out that Peace Crops had already picked up everyone in Bougouni and I had somehow missed the car in passing, but they were sending another car in the morning for me and two other volunteers who were unable to return to Bougouni that day. Left in the house all by myself I was finally able to give in to my broken heart, mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion. I showered, scrubbing off the day’s dust and dirt of two bike rides, and a week’s worth of stress and emotional turmoil. Like much of the time spent in consolidation, the next few days were a blur. Upon arrival to the training center we were told that we would be soon be evacuating to a neighboring country for a four day transitional conference and then sent home.
Peace Corps was really pulling out all the stops for us, trying to comfort and provide everything they could for us. We were able to celebrate two Peace Corps weddings, and we worked hard to make the best out of our situation. On Easter Sunday we were flown out of Mali to Ghana on a chartered flight. We landed in Accra, quickly taken through customs and baggage and bused to an amazing five star, beach front resort to enjoy our four day conference. The conference was really great. We met with members of the Peace Corps Washington staff, and completed all paperwork needed, and reviewed the next steps and options each one of us had to continue or complete our service.
I had been planning to extend my service in Mali for another year, but really had no desire to extend my service in an all new country. Choosing to take the plane ticket from Peace Corps I called my Mama and told her I would be home soon
I closed my Peace Corps service on Friday April 13, 2012 and hopped on a plane from Accra, Ghana to Washington DC where I was met early in the morning with open arms by my wonderful family.
Even though my planned projects were not completed, and I did not get as much time as planned to enjoy my village and my Malian friends and family, I have come to terms with the situation, and am thankful for all that I was able to do, all the relationships I was able to create, and all the memories I will carry with me on to my next adventure.
1.28.2012
Death Blessings
Death. It is the only thing that is certain in life and it is interesting how death is viewed all around the world. Each culture has their own way of dealing with death. I was visiting Tenna when she told me that we had to go give our death blessing to a family not far from my house. As we started our walk, I could feel Tenna’s mood changing and I knew that I was in for an interesting day. As we entered the concession I was overwhelmed to find almost every single women from my village crowding in the shady spots. Tenna quickly grabs my arms and pulls me behind a woven straw wall before bursting into tears. I quickly noticed that all the women behind this wall were sobbing. In a culture where crying in public in not acceptable, I felt so awkward- like I was intruding on an intimate affair. As most funerals people come and give their death blessings to the family sit or a respectable amount of time before continuing on with the rest of their day, and they most certainly don’t talk about the dead. It became quite obvious that this was no regular funeral. I sat, shocked to be surrounded by sobbing women, looking to Tenna for answers to my unasked questions. Soon I learned that we were there to mourn the death of not one but two of the most respected women in my village. They were known as traditional midwives, and medicine women, and they were best friends
For the next few hours I sat and listened to stories between sobs from women from my village and surrounding villages. Stories of women who were brought here to marry older men when were only 15 and Djenaba came to them with calming teas and promises that they would be taken care of, and everything would be fine, stories of sick crying babies who suddenly found comfort in the arms of Djenaba or Sako. Stories of successful, and some not so successful births delivered into the hands of Djenaba then cleaned and cradled by Sako. One lady with a very swollen belly said she was delivered by the two women as were her 6 other children and she is sad that the one due any day now won’t get the chance. The next lady showed up with one of the tiniest babies I have seen, coming to give her blessings and thanks to Djenaba and Sako for even in their old age, crippled hands, fingers, and backs were able to coach her through a very difficult birth only four days before.
As I sat and listened to the stories of these most respected women of the village knowing I really missed out not spending time and getting to know them- knowing that our relationship never went further than a daily greeting. The longer I sat the more crowded the “crying area” got. When large bowls of rice and sauce came by for the husbands they were followed by a line of curses from the crying women. Out of respect for the ones who have passed loved ones are expected to fast the following day- in a culture where if a husband dies the wife cannot leave the house for 40 days of mourning. And for the two most respected females of the village their husbands show no respect by accepting food and filling their stomachs while the rest of the village mourns.
While the sun floated across the sky I sat and listened to more stories and more sobbing. Having never seen my best friend cry or so sad before, I had no idea what to do or how to comfort her. Before I knew it I had let the stories touch my heart and fill it with love for these two women who I did not even know—took Tenna’s hand and wept with her. The somber mood washed over the village into the evening. Even though the moon was big and bright over us, the night time yalaing had all but stopped so that together the village could mourn the loss of two of its Grandmothers.
To Djenaba, and Sako: May God bless your spirits and May your resting place be cool.
For the next few hours I sat and listened to stories between sobs from women from my village and surrounding villages. Stories of women who were brought here to marry older men when were only 15 and Djenaba came to them with calming teas and promises that they would be taken care of, and everything would be fine, stories of sick crying babies who suddenly found comfort in the arms of Djenaba or Sako. Stories of successful, and some not so successful births delivered into the hands of Djenaba then cleaned and cradled by Sako. One lady with a very swollen belly said she was delivered by the two women as were her 6 other children and she is sad that the one due any day now won’t get the chance. The next lady showed up with one of the tiniest babies I have seen, coming to give her blessings and thanks to Djenaba and Sako for even in their old age, crippled hands, fingers, and backs were able to coach her through a very difficult birth only four days before.
As I sat and listened to the stories of these most respected women of the village knowing I really missed out not spending time and getting to know them- knowing that our relationship never went further than a daily greeting. The longer I sat the more crowded the “crying area” got. When large bowls of rice and sauce came by for the husbands they were followed by a line of curses from the crying women. Out of respect for the ones who have passed loved ones are expected to fast the following day- in a culture where if a husband dies the wife cannot leave the house for 40 days of mourning. And for the two most respected females of the village their husbands show no respect by accepting food and filling their stomachs while the rest of the village mourns.
While the sun floated across the sky I sat and listened to more stories and more sobbing. Having never seen my best friend cry or so sad before, I had no idea what to do or how to comfort her. Before I knew it I had let the stories touch my heart and fill it with love for these two women who I did not even know—took Tenna’s hand and wept with her. The somber mood washed over the village into the evening. Even though the moon was big and bright over us, the night time yalaing had all but stopped so that together the village could mourn the loss of two of its Grandmothers.
To Djenaba, and Sako: May God bless your spirits and May your resting place be cool.
1.09.2012
Dirt...Life...Love
*Surprise for my readers! My Mama was in Mali for ten days so she has guest written my most recent blog! Please enjoy reading and viewing Mali through her eyes.*
Has your heart ever swelled with so much pride that it seeped from your tear ducts without warning? Well, I experienced that over the past 10 days in Mali, many times over, I might add.
From seeing Dani standing outside the airport in Bamako with our taxi driver in tow, to bargaining for the best market deal, to jumping off a hot bus to “chat” with our driver having tea and keeping us waiting, to speaking her peace with the school directors, to loving village children and old men, to eating village food and loving it; my heart swelled and seeped many times.
Miriam, aka, Dani, immersed me into the Malian culture as soon as I arrived in Bamako by securing a seat on a bus to Bougouni. The temperature was 114’ F inside the bus and we were off! We absorbed the sounds, sights, smells and laughter of the market day in Bougouni, then off to village and what a welcome! There is no phone or electricity in village, but within moments of our arrival, the house was surrounded by people young and old! They were so excited to meet Miriam’s Mama – I’m sure it just wasn’t just to see another Toubob in the village!
The day of greeting was heartwarming. We started off in our matching Malian outfits to present the school supplies to the school director, parent association representative, board members, Dougoutiki, and teachers. We were all sitting in a room and the director of the school chaired the meeting. When he spoke, he did so to one member who then shared the information with the next person and so on until the Dougoutiki had the information. His comments to Dani and I were so sincere and grateful. They praised her parents for giving her a good heart and mind so that she will be favored in God’s eyes for all she is doing. Even though she has worked hard and done a lot already, they want her for another year!
The rest of that day was spent roaming the village greeting people and giving gifts from America. There isn’t a person in the village that doesn’t know Dani and always smiles and greets her. You can tell in their comments that she is respected and loved there. So much that by the end of the second day of greeting, she was 8 chickens and 1 guinea richer! People brought her these as their way of showing their gratitude and respect. The village is so rich in that they have their faith, family and food. They have no idea what they don’t have that it simply doesn’t matter. They are rich beyond words.
Friday was my day to really become Malian as it was Toe making day and I had the honor of cooking and stirring much to everyone’s laughter! Then we had henna put on our feet to get ready for the big celebration on Saturday night. The goat was sacrificed in our honor and drummers and dancers were brought in to help us celebrate. The show was spectacular with the dancers in costumes – masks and noise makers! Dani and I were the guests of honor and I literally was “crowned” by one of the dancers! Of course, we were coerced into dancing but somehow our feet just couldn’t keep up the beat! We partied ourselves out shortly after midnight but the village gang still went on strong – kids and adults alike!
Sunday was our day to chill and rest which was a good thing because I awoke to what I thought was a thunderstorm only to find out it was my stomach – yeah, you know the drill! Three days in village consuming cultural cuisine was just a bit too much for my digestive system!
On the mend by Monday morning which was a good thing because we were off to the school to hand out the supplies to the students. Now US students, take heed…this was this last day of winter break and very early in the morning, the school bell rang and over 350 of the 370 students came to school! We visited every classroom and handed out the supplies. We were able to give each student a new pencil and either a crayon or colored pencil. Groups of students received sharpeners, markers, erasers and much more. The bags we made for them to carry their books and supplies were a huge hit. They clapped for us, sang for us and each thanked us.
Then it was off to prepare for our trip to Segou! We secured a bus in Bamako at 11 which was to leave at noon…….at 4:00 we were finally on the bus and moving! But wait, the first police post, just outside of town had a market and our driver stopped, had his shoes shined, shared tea and chatted with friends for over an hour. Dani finally had enough because we still had a four hour ride so off the bus she marches, right up to the driver and tells him her mother is waiting on the hot bus and we needed to get moving! He laughed, telling her to calm her mind, bring her mother out to have tea and chat with them! Finally we were on the road again and arrived in Segou about 7 hours after we left Bamako. But of course, our night was not over yet! We arrived at the Catholic Mission only to find out, after our taxi left that we had no reservation! So Dani once again argues her case, gets us a room and vows to tell Baba about the experience with the catholic nun!
Our day in Segou was incredibly awesome, but of course not without incident!! We took a stroll along the river, watching mothers wash their dishes, clothes or babies, and tend their gardens. We had an African version of a Primanti Brothers sandwich with meat, fries, and plantains all on a fresh roll.
We visited a Bogolon shop and learned the craft of mud dying, even trying it ourselves. Incredible and so pretty! We shopped the artisan shops and had an awesome fish lunch at “The Shack”.
We met some really nice Tuarug guys from Timbuktu and one was actually wearing a Steelers shirt! I grabbed my Terrible Towel and had my picture taken with him. We were invited back later to share tea after our sunset boat ride.
Our tour guide met us to start on the boat ride, taking us to two fishing villages across the river. All was going well, until he took us right back to dock long before sunset. Again, Dani’s negotiating skills kick in just as two other men jump into the boat telling us we were with the wrong guide! He lied to us, telling us he was our guide! After pleading our case, we were back on the river for the most beautiful sunset ever!
Tea with our new friends was so much fun! I never understood fully the idea of three cups of tea until this evening. We were sitting with three men dressed fully in head wraps and robes speaking broken English and having the best time. It truly was the traditional three cups of tea. We drank tea, laughed, listened to stories about living in the desert, raising camels all the while listening to authentic music. Now that I have experienced the entire three cup process….”Strong like dirt, Sweet like life, Sugar like love” it make total sense! There is so much in life that can be relevant to this thinking.
The bus ride back to Bamako wasn’t nearly as eventful or as long! We spent our last night together talking about the week, looking at pictures, laughing, and just enjoying our time together. On Friday, our last day, we went to the Artisan market to finish our gift buying. Sekouba met us and was our person with bargaining power! He was able to secure us some good deals, although I think Dani could have done as well! A perfect way to wind down the visit – market then a good dinner and just relaxing before heading to the airport.
Now as I sit in my 12th hour of flying, I can tell you my heart is proud….I wouldn’t have missed this trip for the world. I realize first hand that my baby girl is strong like dirt, sweet like life, and sugar like love and she is spreading that in a village that desperately needs her and knows it. Thanks for the wonderful time Dani – you make me proud! Strong – sweet – sugar!
Has your heart ever swelled with so much pride that it seeped from your tear ducts without warning? Well, I experienced that over the past 10 days in Mali, many times over, I might add.
From seeing Dani standing outside the airport in Bamako with our taxi driver in tow, to bargaining for the best market deal, to jumping off a hot bus to “chat” with our driver having tea and keeping us waiting, to speaking her peace with the school directors, to loving village children and old men, to eating village food and loving it; my heart swelled and seeped many times.
Miriam, aka, Dani, immersed me into the Malian culture as soon as I arrived in Bamako by securing a seat on a bus to Bougouni. The temperature was 114’ F inside the bus and we were off! We absorbed the sounds, sights, smells and laughter of the market day in Bougouni, then off to village and what a welcome! There is no phone or electricity in village, but within moments of our arrival, the house was surrounded by people young and old! They were so excited to meet Miriam’s Mama – I’m sure it just wasn’t just to see another Toubob in the village!
The day of greeting was heartwarming. We started off in our matching Malian outfits to present the school supplies to the school director, parent association representative, board members, Dougoutiki, and teachers. We were all sitting in a room and the director of the school chaired the meeting. When he spoke, he did so to one member who then shared the information with the next person and so on until the Dougoutiki had the information. His comments to Dani and I were so sincere and grateful. They praised her parents for giving her a good heart and mind so that she will be favored in God’s eyes for all she is doing. Even though she has worked hard and done a lot already, they want her for another year!
The rest of that day was spent roaming the village greeting people and giving gifts from America. There isn’t a person in the village that doesn’t know Dani and always smiles and greets her. You can tell in their comments that she is respected and loved there. So much that by the end of the second day of greeting, she was 8 chickens and 1 guinea richer! People brought her these as their way of showing their gratitude and respect. The village is so rich in that they have their faith, family and food. They have no idea what they don’t have that it simply doesn’t matter. They are rich beyond words.
Friday was my day to really become Malian as it was Toe making day and I had the honor of cooking and stirring much to everyone’s laughter! Then we had henna put on our feet to get ready for the big celebration on Saturday night. The goat was sacrificed in our honor and drummers and dancers were brought in to help us celebrate. The show was spectacular with the dancers in costumes – masks and noise makers! Dani and I were the guests of honor and I literally was “crowned” by one of the dancers! Of course, we were coerced into dancing but somehow our feet just couldn’t keep up the beat! We partied ourselves out shortly after midnight but the village gang still went on strong – kids and adults alike!
Sunday was our day to chill and rest which was a good thing because I awoke to what I thought was a thunderstorm only to find out it was my stomach – yeah, you know the drill! Three days in village consuming cultural cuisine was just a bit too much for my digestive system!
On the mend by Monday morning which was a good thing because we were off to the school to hand out the supplies to the students. Now US students, take heed…this was this last day of winter break and very early in the morning, the school bell rang and over 350 of the 370 students came to school! We visited every classroom and handed out the supplies. We were able to give each student a new pencil and either a crayon or colored pencil. Groups of students received sharpeners, markers, erasers and much more. The bags we made for them to carry their books and supplies were a huge hit. They clapped for us, sang for us and each thanked us.
Then it was off to prepare for our trip to Segou! We secured a bus in Bamako at 11 which was to leave at noon…….at 4:00 we were finally on the bus and moving! But wait, the first police post, just outside of town had a market and our driver stopped, had his shoes shined, shared tea and chatted with friends for over an hour. Dani finally had enough because we still had a four hour ride so off the bus she marches, right up to the driver and tells him her mother is waiting on the hot bus and we needed to get moving! He laughed, telling her to calm her mind, bring her mother out to have tea and chat with them! Finally we were on the road again and arrived in Segou about 7 hours after we left Bamako. But of course, our night was not over yet! We arrived at the Catholic Mission only to find out, after our taxi left that we had no reservation! So Dani once again argues her case, gets us a room and vows to tell Baba about the experience with the catholic nun!
Our day in Segou was incredibly awesome, but of course not without incident!! We took a stroll along the river, watching mothers wash their dishes, clothes or babies, and tend their gardens. We had an African version of a Primanti Brothers sandwich with meat, fries, and plantains all on a fresh roll.
We visited a Bogolon shop and learned the craft of mud dying, even trying it ourselves. Incredible and so pretty! We shopped the artisan shops and had an awesome fish lunch at “The Shack”.
We met some really nice Tuarug guys from Timbuktu and one was actually wearing a Steelers shirt! I grabbed my Terrible Towel and had my picture taken with him. We were invited back later to share tea after our sunset boat ride.
Our tour guide met us to start on the boat ride, taking us to two fishing villages across the river. All was going well, until he took us right back to dock long before sunset. Again, Dani’s negotiating skills kick in just as two other men jump into the boat telling us we were with the wrong guide! He lied to us, telling us he was our guide! After pleading our case, we were back on the river for the most beautiful sunset ever!
Tea with our new friends was so much fun! I never understood fully the idea of three cups of tea until this evening. We were sitting with three men dressed fully in head wraps and robes speaking broken English and having the best time. It truly was the traditional three cups of tea. We drank tea, laughed, listened to stories about living in the desert, raising camels all the while listening to authentic music. Now that I have experienced the entire three cup process….”Strong like dirt, Sweet like life, Sugar like love” it make total sense! There is so much in life that can be relevant to this thinking.
The bus ride back to Bamako wasn’t nearly as eventful or as long! We spent our last night together talking about the week, looking at pictures, laughing, and just enjoying our time together. On Friday, our last day, we went to the Artisan market to finish our gift buying. Sekouba met us and was our person with bargaining power! He was able to secure us some good deals, although I think Dani could have done as well! A perfect way to wind down the visit – market then a good dinner and just relaxing before heading to the airport.
Now as I sit in my 12th hour of flying, I can tell you my heart is proud….I wouldn’t have missed this trip for the world. I realize first hand that my baby girl is strong like dirt, sweet like life, and sugar like love and she is spreading that in a village that desperately needs her and knows it. Thanks for the wonderful time Dani – you make me proud! Strong – sweet – sugar!
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