Sunday, November 05, 2006

What can I say?

Well, what can I say? I have been at my site for a little over a month now. I have been sitting here trying to think of what I can write, and my mind comes up a big blank. It is not that I haven't had a lot of different experiences, its more that its hard to regurgitate a whole months worth of stuff in one blog without it running on forever and ending up as esoteric ramblings. Well anyway, here it goes. I got to my site during Ramadan and was happy that it turns out Northern Koulikoro is Muslim light, which means that many people did not fast. This was key because it made me feel better about eating during the day since others also were. The end of Ramadan brought a big fete which was pretty cool. The day before they slaughter an entire cow (two actually) and by slaughter I mean they cut its throat and then sit around and chop it into pieces. They don't really have western tools, usually everything is done with a knife and when you get to the bones an axe is brought in to hack it up. I have to say though that nothing tastes as good as fresh barbecued beef, and the whole village ate beef for the next three days. That night they party pretty much until 5 in the morning when they have prayer and then go to sleep for like half and hour before they are up again (I did not stay up the whole night, in fact I find it hard to stay up past 9 pm these days and am usually up around 530am). As I was saying we ate meat the next couple of days which was great, until about day three when I go over to eat dinner which was rice and sauce, and notice that we have been eating for the past couple of days is sitting in a pot cooking. Looking into the pot, I see that the sauce is made by boiling the head of the cow, pretty much for the past three days. Needless to say I was very happy when it turned out that the sauce for the rice was tiganega (peanut sauce). Funny enough that night they did offer me cow cheek, but I politely turned them down. Shortly after Ramadan I was sitting in my homologues concession hanging out, about to go back and eat, when he says no, we have to go to this village. I inquire why but I couldn't understand what he was saying so I shrugged and figured why not. We bike about 15 km to this random village I have never even seen and just sit there. We sit for about an hour while more people come until I begin to realize that this is a funeral. Funerals in Mali are very different than funerals in America. First off, we sat for about an hour while people came and gathered. During this time, no one talked at all, we just sat, ti was very wierd. Also, women and men are separated during this time so the women are all on one side of the concession and the men on the other. Finally they bring the body out wrapped in cloth and say some prayers, afterwhich the men (men only) go out and bury the body in the cemetary. The only similar thing happened later when we went back into the concession and different people got up and said some words about the person. Needless to say I was pretty relieved when we started heading back towards home. Every Thursday I go to Sirokorola which is the market town about 25 km away from my village to meet up with the two other volunteers in the area and hang out. It is pretty cool and pretty much fulfills anyones imagination of what a big dirty exotic outdoor market looks like. A bunch of wood stalls filled with everything from produce, meat, to soccer jerseys an spare care parts (not that anyone has a car). The best part about market town are the cold cokes, the meat bruschet sandwhiches (lots of maggi oil mmmm) and the bar. We found the bar the first day we went there after a lot of trouble. It turns out the bar is really just some guys house located along some back alley. In the courtyard of the bar or concession really is a monkey that is tied to a tree. The monkey is pretty sweet and it actaully got free once and I thought for sure it was gone, but somehow the owner managed to chase it down. The bar itself serves wine in a bag (which we never get) and nice warm beer. I can tell you that nothing is better than grapping a couple of meat sandwhiches and topping it off with a nice castel before going back out into the market to bargain with the locals. Bargaining is also a pretty fun event and something I have gotten pretty decent at (decent in the sense I can understand what they are saying and know the language to bargain back, not in the fact that I have still paying Tubab prices) and helps pass the time. At first I used to bike into Sirokorola but that became a pain since I was always exhausted by the time I was ready to go home, so now I have a system where I bike only 10 km to Dumba which is a town next to the main road and get a Sotrama for about 10 cents American into Sirokorola, much better. I finally shaved my beard, which was definitely necessary since I apparently looked like Santa Claus with it, however after shaving a couple of times in the bruce I have decided I am definitely going to grow it out again. It has been harvest season lately so I have gone out a couple of times to the fields and helped the guys cut the corn and the millet. I got my hands pretty mangled cutting corn. You hold the corn with the left hand and use a machete to cut the base, I wasn't aware though that the leaves of the corn are really sharp and ended up giving my left hand multiple cuts, not really painful just embarrassing since all the Malians saw how inept I was. I did a little better with the millet and went out several days for a couple of hours each and helped out. One of my Malian guys asked me if I was going to grow millet when I returned to America, I told him that if i did, people would probably have no idea what to do with it. He told me that I could tell my wife how to make to. I started laughing and told him maybe. Overall the Malians have been really nice in my village, if there was any complaint I could voice it would be that they are overly protective, always asking me if I am tired or getting up to give me the good chair.The children are also pretty hilarious though I have mixed feelings ont hem. On one hand they are adorable and I am happy that they are accepting me as part of their village and aren't scared by me or anything. On the other hand I want to smack them soemtimes because they are always over at my house in my concession hanging out and will not leave. The other day I was listening to the BBC around 5pm before dinner and this little kid comes over. I try to talk to him and ask him how he is doing and what his name is, but he doesn't talk at all. He just comes over and sits, for about an hour. It was very wierd. Let me see, what else has been happening? I have been eating corn for the past straight week and I am sick of it. I get corn seri in the morning and corn to for lunch and dinner. When I finally got bashi the other night instead I almost started crying. Every morning I wake up around 530, go to the pump and get some water and wash in my negen. After that I will read a little and head over to my jatigis house around 7 am for breakfast. I then go home and study until 9 or so at which point I wander around and hang out over at my homologues or my jatigis, doing some work or just chilling and drinking tea (the most difficult part about my experience so far has definitely been the dullness. Most of the day is sat sitting around and talking and since we aren't allowed to start any projects for three months, it can get a little tiresome) I eat dinner around 7pm and we all gather around and watch tv. the TV is powered by a battery that has been charging all day from the solar panel and only gets one channel. This means I get to watch shows on how to treat your donkey, how to improve agriculture, old spanish soap operas, and when I am lucky, a soccer game. It is pretty strange sitting around a 12 inch balck and white tv with twenty people crowded around watching soccer while goats and chickens go back and forth.

Well there it is, I told you that it wouldn't be pretty or even logical, but that is the best summary of what I have been up to that I can think of at this time. I am sure I have left a lot of stuff out and hopefully I will be able to remember it and add it tomorrow. Otherwise, take care, I miss everyone a lot, and keep in touch.

2 Comments:

Blogger Mark in Nashville said...

Dan, you don't know me but I'm a friend of Jennifer Cordle, a PCV in Mali. Ever met her? We are always trying to get info and your blog has been some wonderful reading. Thanks - Mark Duncan - Nashville, TN. USA.

7:33 PM  
Blogger Ashley Whisnant said...

Schmaniel, Alix and I are at my house hanging out and just read your post. We miss you so so much and hope all is going well. ITs so good to read about all that your doing I just wish we could see you next week for thanksgiving!! WE miss you WE miss you WE miss you!!!! take care of yourself, we're thinking about you!

4:58 AM  

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