Site Visit

I could describe my time in site day by day, but I think that would quickly get boring for all of us. There just isn’t a whole lot to do during a site visit. My house was built, but empty. I was in the care of my homologue, and therefore nearly always with her, but she has a job and had to work. So if I wasn’t in my own, empty house, I was pretty much always at the CSCOM (community health center).

My day would begin pretty normally. I’d wake up around 7, haul my bug hut inside for the day, pour myself a buck of (not heated) water for a bucket bath, and eat breakfast, which was always leftover dinner. Actually, there is one pretty major difference in what I just described. My ɲεgεn has an unfortunate flaw: there’s no door to it, and it doesn’t have a spiral entrance to protect the inside from being viewed by the outside. Add that to the fact that I have no compound door and people are constantly coming in and out of my courtyard whenever they want, and you can understand my apprehension at using a bathroom/shower where anyone can see in. I’ll wind up my Sourountouna ɲεgεn descriptions by saying that I minimized use of it as much as possible, and immediately jetted to the shower upon my arrival in San 4 days later. And yes, that is being fixed!*
*Note that this is part of the objectives of site visit, to find out what repairs need to be done before we move in permanently. There are almost always little things that need to be worked out, and we’re prepared for that.

Anyway, after getting ready for the day, Djeneba would come pick me up and we would go to the CSCOM after running any errands that needed to be done along the way. At the CSCOM, I observed as Djeneba and 1-2 other women performed Prenatal Consultations for women in varying stages of pregnancy. One of the other women who works at the CSCOM is one of my closest neighbors, and presumably one of Djeneba’s closest friends. Her name is Safi and she is striking in more ways than one. She’s tall and gorgeous and always beautifully dressed, but she’s also a no-nonsense kind of woman. With her I can’t get around my poor Bambara skills by smiling and laughing and saying the occasional “N se” (a woman’s response to being spoken to; men say “n ba”) or “ɔwɔ” (yes). She expects an actual answer! She’s in no way rude or mean if I can’t provide one, she’s just holding me accountable for what I should be able to do, which I appreciate. She also was insistent that I learn from my observational sessions – she had me help measure a pregnant woman’s stomach, listen to the fetus’ heartbeat, and take the blood pressure of another pregnant woman. I’m predicting that Safi will be good to have around, as she won’t let me take the easy way out.

Of course, I would eventually get bored, as I couldn’t understand the actual conversations, and the checkups were more or less routine: weigh the woman, take her height, have a brief conversation. Have her lay on a table to measure her belly and listen to the fetus’ heart. Sit her back down for more conversation, the occasional shot, and a 3-dose round of malaria prophylaxis. It was a rather quick process, and the repetition quickly grew boring. I learned to always carry a book with me, and I read a lot during those 3 ½ days.

During training at Tubaniso, Djeneba was instructed that part of her duties were to introduce me to the community. So that first day, she took me around to visit the important people: the dugutigi (the village chief), the mayor, the other dugutigi (it’s uncommon to have more than one but since my village is divided by ethnicity, each side has its own), the village council, again the sous-prefect, and the CSCOM staff. Sourountouna’s CSCOM is headed by a man named Oussé Diarra. He doesn’t have the required amount of schooling to be considered a doctor, but he’s the next step down from one (maybe like a PA?) and our highest-educated employee. He assists in seeing patients, performing consultations, overseeing vaccinations, prescribing medicines (we have our own pharmacy and pharmacist), and referring severe cases to the hospital in San. Overall, my site seems to have quite the functional CSCOM. Ouseé runs it well, the ladies do their PNCs and baby deliveries, the Vaccinator vaccinates, and the Pharmacist…Pharmacizes? It’s a little intimidating that they seem to have their act together so well, but hopefully that just means I’ll have lots of support on my side! Actually, all of the authority figures I previously mentioned were very welcoming and told me to come to them if I need anything. I am one lucky soon-to-be PCV!

That was pretty much my week at site. On Tuesday, a PC staff came to check up on me, make sure everything was ok with my site, and formally introduce me to all those important members of the community that I had met the day before. My PC staff just so happened to be the Assistant Program Manager of the Health Sector, N’Tossama. So not only did I have a familiar, friendly face to greet me; on top of that, “Toss” used to work for World Vision (a large, international NGO) in the San area and already knew several people in my town. My hope is that on top of my status as a PCV, the good people of my village will also associate me with Toss, a man they already know and like and who has done good things for their community. The brownie points sure can’t hurt!

I have a bit of an identity crisis at site. When Djeneba came to the Training Center for our mutual training, she told that me when I would come to site my name would be Bintou Coulibaly. I respectfully protested: my name is Damadje. I’m ok with switching last names, to fit in with my community, but I’m Damadje. Somehow, when we actually arrived in our village, it ended up that Djeneba introduced me to everyone as Michelle Doumbia. It’s funny, I’ve been Michelle my whole life. I’ve never even had a nickname that was popular enough to catch on with more than just a few people. But in Sourountouna, everytime someone called me Michelle, I inwardly cringed. It felt so wrong! I kept thinking, “No, that’s not me! I’m not Michelle! I’m Damadje!” At the same time, I was introducing myself as either “Damadje Doumbia” or “Michelle Surdyk,” based on which name they asked for. So I’m pretty sure I’m causing confusion already, and that the town as a whole has no idea what my name is. I’m going to have to work on that.

On a related note, Djeneba and Safi both yell at the kids who call me “toubabu!” (which is all of them) and tell them my real name (Michelle, not Damadje). The kids at site seem intrigued by me. I’m pretty sure I’m the Malian version of the American crazy cat lady down the street who inspires kids to dare each other to run up, ring her doorbell, and run away again. One afternoon I woke up from a nap because at least 20 kids were sitting immediately outside of my house door. What were they doing? Were they waiting to see me? What did they think I was going to do, do a little dance? In reality, I came out an yelled at them and they ran away. Normally I indulge little-kid fascinations with the white girl, but at this point I was tired and overwhelmed and annoyed and just wanted to sleep!

On a more adorable note, sometimes the little tiny children, like maybe age 3, will see Djeneba and I pass by, and they’ll call out cheerfully, “I ni ce Djeneba! I ni ce toubabu!” Which roughly translates to, “Hey Djeneba! Hey white girl!” Those little ones have no intentions other than just saying hi! It’s so adorable, I can’t possibly be annoyed, or really do anything other than giggle for awhile.

I do have one friend so far. Her name is Alima and she’s 10 years old. She’s Djeneba’s daughter and she helped me out all week, bringing me hot water for tea in the morning, sweeping my courtyard, fetching water. Djeneba told me later that Alima was fascinated by me and wanted to see the white woman, so it worked out pretty well. My last night at site, I was already in my concession alone for the night when Djeneba and Alima came back. Alima had asked her mother if she could spend the night at my house, so they came to ask my permission, which of course I gave. It’s nice to have company sometimes! So they brought Alima a mat and blanket and she slept about as close to my tent as she could get. I’m excited to see her again soon.

And that’s it for my site visit! When it was time to leave, Djeneba helped me catch a ride to San, where I spent 2 nights at the Peace Corps house, getting acclimated to San and the PCVs in the San area. Everyone in PC says San has a good crew, so I’m excited to be part of it for the next 2 years. The bus ride back to Bamako was about the same as the ride there, except I didn’t have a window seat and wasn’t able to sleep much. I’m sure bus rides will be much more tolerable once the hot season passes…here’s hoping, anyway!