Saturday, March 31, 2012

Books I've Read in Mali

Certainly not my most interesting post, but since I do so much reading here (catching up on the past 9 years!!) I thought I'd post a list...just in case anyone's interested. (It's totally ok if you're not at all interested).

*Titles in green are about Mali/Africa.

*Titles in blue I think are absolute MUST reads. There won't be many. Not that I don't like the rest, but a few really stick out as everyone should really read them.


Nine Hills to Nambonkaha
Monique and the Mango Rains
Segu
Sons and Lovers
On the Road
Dharma Bums
Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
The Marvelous Land of Oz
Icy Sparks
The Woggle-Bug Book
Ozma of Oz
Chicken Soup for the Volunteer’s Soul
Strength in What Remains
The Last American Man
Sundiata: An Epic of Old Mali
Hannah’s Dream
Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz
Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian
Dancing Skeletons
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
The Second Summer of the Sisterhood
Girls in Pants
Twilight
New Moons
The Mermaid Chair
The Road to Oz
Sisterhood Everlasting
Eclipse
The Namesake
The Emerald City of Oz
Three Cups of Tea
The Patchwork Girl of Oz
Mango Elephants in the Sun
Breaking Dawn
The Cruelest Journey
The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner
The Wives of Henry Oades
A Life Inspired
The Heart of the Matter
The Count of Monte Cristo
Tik Tok of Oz
The Last Summer (Of You and Me)
Water for Elephants
The Pact
Fool
When Rain Clouds Gather
Love in the Present Tense
Around the World in 80 Days
Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky
Song of Solomon
The Scarecrow of Oz
Great Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe
Heaven is for Real
The Three Musketeers
Snow Falling on Cedars
Angela’s Ashes
The Lost Princess of Oz
Glinda of Oz
The Help
Lucky
Vanishing Acts
Into Thin Air
The Blonde Theory
Second Glance
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
Bridget Jones’ Diary
The Red Tent
The Road
The Magic of Oz
Live, Life, and a Polar Bear Tattoo
The Lady of the Rivers
The Thirteen Clocks
The Women of the Cousins’ War
The Tin Woodman of Oz
Keeping Faith
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Have a Little Faith
Atonement
Chicken Soup for the Soul: Devotional Stories for Women
Say You’re One of Them (also about Africa)
The Girl Who Played with Fire
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest
We Are All the Same (also about Africa)
The Hunger Games
Catching Fire
Mockingjay
Born to Run

Christmas in Mali - The End

Although we couldn’t believe our trip was coming to an end, when we woke up on the 26th, all of the big events had come and passed and we were ready to get going. We tied our bundles on our backs and set out to go back down the incline into village, through the town and out again, past the gardens and stretches of sand, and finally to the base of the steep climb up through the pass – what would undoubtedly be the hardest hike yet.

Rather than Christmas music, we decided to go with “get up and go!” music that would keep our spirits up and our legs climbing – starting with the theme song to Rocky: “Eye of the Tiger.” We made good time, but even so we were still overtaken and passed by a man and a woman, the woman climbing in flip-flops, a fancy, not-so-flexible Malian wrap skirt and long sleeve shirt, and with a baby tied on her back. It’s ok, our egos were long gone by this time. We even asked her to take a picture with us! Definitely one of my favorite photos from the trip.


Wooden ladder in the pass

We made it across the wooden ladder, through the uphill pass, walked back along the bridge, and had almost made it through the Wasteland when the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” came on the iPod. Well come on, you can’t not dance to that song!! So we stopped right where we were and had a mini-break in the form of a dance party. Ibrahim shook his head at us and commented, “I always get the crazy tourists” and then grabbed Michaela’s camera out of her pocket so he could capture the moment.


Dourou, where we’d left our bags, wasn’t much farther away, and soon we arrived, amidst the usual chorus of Ça va le bonbon?? (This village was particularly bad about that). I couldn’t believe it was over already – and yet finally! My feet were killing me. My shoulders probably would’ve fallen off if I’d carried my bag those last 2 days. We’d walked 44km (a little over 27 miles) in 4 days and celebrated the most unusual Christmas holidays I’d ever experienced.

A wonderful trip!!!

Christmas Day!!!

I can tell you, I’ve never had a Christmas Day quite like this one before. Instead of the usual Christmas Craziness at my houses, I hiked 7 ½ miles across the middle of nowhere in Mali. Talk about making memories!

It was a really nice morning. We woke up in our MegaBed and wished each other a Merry Christmas! and then did our Secret Santa gift exchange that we’d planned back at Thanksgiving. We’d hauled our presents for each other throughout the hike for this moment and it was totally worth it. (Not surprisingly, I’d lost one of Christina’s presents back in San – I’d hidden it somewhere in the house when she arrived, forgot where I hid it, and found it over a month later in the freezer). My presents were whiskey and chocolate. Chrissy’s were butter and fireworks. I’d say we all know each other pretty well, and did a damn good job buying for each other on a small budget and limited options! :D

Merry Christmas!
At breakfast, we celebrated with hot chocolate (real, Amεriki hot chocolate!) that Christina had brought, and cookies that she and Michaela had picked up at the toubab store in Bamako. Michaela’s mom had sent her sparkly snowflake garland, so we decorated our Santa hats – even Ibrahim’s! We also decided that as a Christmas present from us to ourselves, we were going to hire porters to carry our bags for the day. Also an excellent gift. So we loaded up all the important things (cameras, iPods, my speakers, etc) in my small, drawstring backpack and headed out to explore the village of Begnetouro.

The Escarpment
Ibrahim took us out to the edge of the village where we again walked across the Moon for awhile before coming to the edge of the escarpment cliff. We could look down the horizon and see the Bandiagara Escarpment as far as the eye could see. Always my father’s daughter, I made to climb up an incline to a raised spot on the very edge of the cliff, and was quickly scolded by everyone else in the group, including Ibrahim. Apparently it was too windy and I was being stupid. (Sorry, Mama. Proud, Daddy? :D) Totally worth the view, though.

We hung out for awhile and enjoyed the view and the breeze. Then we headed back the way we came. About 5 minutes later, I suddenly realized for the first time in 3 days I was carrying…nothing. Not even the small bag we’d all shared. Uh oh. I’d left the bag with all of our electronics on the Moon. Crap. Apparently I’d taken the bag off to take this picture, and to try and show off the back of the awesome Christmas shirt my besties in Boston had sent me:
Great picture, right?



Needless to say, no one was pleased with me, and I’m sure Chrissy was (once again) regretting her role as my caretaker, so I headed back alone to find the bag, followed by the calls of my 5 moms not to run on the rocks. Luckily I found the bag right where I left it and rejoined my friends. We crossed the rest of the Moon, passed a pig, and went back into town for one last souvenir opportunity (Daddy, get excited for your Christmas 2013 gift!) before continuing out of village for the next portion of our hike, 7km to the village of Dourou.



It was a nice, easy hike, especially without our bags, and we reached Dourou fairly quickly. It was hot, though. Definitely my first hot Christmas! (But it didn’t stop us all from wearing our Santa hats!). Ibrahim had us take a nice long rest at Dourou, and we also repacked our bags. According to Ibrahim we couldn’t take our big bags with us for the next part of our hike, so we had to prioritize and consolidate what we needed for the night and the following morning. In other words, do what we should’ve done before we ever left San. At first we were going to share one backpack, but we realized it would be an even better idea for each of us to wrap what we needed for the night in a tafe (wrap skirt about 1½ meters long) and tie it to our backs like an African baby. A perfect solution!



We were able to bounce all over the place as we hiked, and the lack of heavy bags certainly made it easier on all of us, especially poor Christina, who, as I may remind you, was suffering from amoebas but still plowing on along with the rest of us. We passed some cool and different scenery: “wasteland” looking rock plains on the edge of a cliff overlooking the bush, and eventually even into some green areas. We stopped for a short break at this bridge.

The last part of the day’s hike was 5km that once again went back down the escarpment, this time on a steeper, more direct path. It took a lot of concentration (in between singing Christmas carols, of course) to pick our way, and Ibrahim’s assistance was appreciated on more than one occasion. But it was a truly awesome portion of the hike! At one point we went down a wooden ladder that had been set against the rocks, all one piece of wood with steps notched into the wood. This hike was tougher than the flat plains, and we stopped to rest often. When we finally got to the bottom, we were soo tired.

Our destination village, Nombori was so close – within eyesight – and yet seemed so far away. We passed many village gardens on the way in, and a few people but not many. That’s because they were all at the Christmas party. That’s right – Christmas party! Ibrahim had planned it so we’d be in a Christian village for Christmas Day. I kid you not, we walked straight into the village, straight over to the party (which was a huge dance circle), and without bothering to empty the sand from our shoes or even untie our packs, we joined right into the dance circle, all 5 of us with our white skin and our Santa hats bobbing along. And everyone was so excited to see us, no ulterior motives included! We were welcomed right into the fold and people clapped and cheered for us and kids grabbed our hands and danced with us. We’d gotten separated from each other in the circle so I didn’t think anything of it when I didn’t see any other toubabs, but suddenly I realized mine was the only Santa hat still bouncing along in the circle – time to go!

We made our weary way through the village, back up a fairly steep, rocky incline yet again, to the campemant where we would be spending the night. As usual, we took our turns with showers and resting while waiting for dinner, but tonight had a special addition – we got to talk to our families in Amεriki to wish each other a Merry Christmas! It was amazing that we even had cell reception – I can’t begin to describe just how remote and off-the-map I felt there in Nombori, but there I was, on the roof of the campemant, under a million stars, 5,000 miles away from the first Christmas I’d ever spent away from home, wishing my family a Merry Christmas. A Christmas Miracle indeed.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Christmas Part 2: The Eve.

True to form, I can’t manage to write a concise entry, and I’ve therefore decided to break up my Dogon hike story. So onto Day 2.

Day 2 was Christmas Eve Day! Ibrahim brought out our breakfast of tea, coffee, and toast with the most delicious guava jelly, and we gorged before heading out of Teli back onto the dirt paths. We’d all brought along our iPods and I have a set of cool speakers that zips the iPod inside the speakers and can be clipped onto my backpack (courtesy of my Uncle Rich :)) so for the first 3 days of our hike we were a walking Christmas train – so much Christmas music to choose from! My favorite was Heather’s African Christmas album, for obvious reasons – it fit the setting. (Listen to a sample song here!) 

I wonder a bit what the different villages thought of us. They’re used to white people/tourists trekking in and out, but how many of them play music and sing as they walk? Some months down the line when someone comes across a felt Santa hat, is he going to think he’s embracing American fashion?
A Walking Christmas Musical Train.

Always steadily walking, always in the mood for a chat, Ibrahim slowly started to show us just how much English he’d picked up from tourists, mostly Peace Corps Volunteers:

* Me: Ibrahim, is it ok if I take your picture?
Ibrahim: Of course it is ok, because I am the Big Daddy.

* Ibrahim: You climb like monkey.

* Ibrahim (Pointing to a donkey): This is a Dogon 4x4.

* Stopping for the millionth time for one of us to take a photo:
Ibrahim: Are you Japanese-ing again?

Priceless.

Bogolan dyeing station. 
Outside of Teli we had a 5km walk to the village of Ende, which would be our biggest souvenir-shopping opportunity. There was actually a series of festivals and activities in the area for Christmas tourists, but unfortunately we managed to miss all of them. Ende was well-prepared though, and we had a nice selection of souvenirs. Everything from jewelry to paintings to, of course, the famous Malian bogolan, or mud-dyed cloth. We actually got to see a bit of the dyeing process before starting our browsing.



Finished Bogolan products for sale.
I bought some jewelry, including a rooster necklace I just couldn’t resist on account of how much I loathe roosters. I told the shop owner the necklace will always remind me of Mali! The other girls did some bogolan shopping and came away with some great pieces – I’m saving my own souvenir shopping for a time of more wealth and less baggage to carry! :D





Me and My Crap.


After an hour browsing through Ende, we walked another 6km to the village of Yabatalou where we stopped for lunch. By this time we had walked a total of 12 miles with all of our crap and were starting to really feel it. No one wanted to walk the 40 feet to the bathroom. I think maybe we dozed a bit before lunch arrived. Before lunch, as had happened before dinner the previous night, a man arrived with a sheaf of handwritten papers, each advertising his massage services in another language. (Bambara, French, English, Dutch, German you name it). The night before, we’d been seriously weirded out. This is a society where we can’t cross-gender hug our friends hello or goodbye in public. Should we be creeped out? But when we were approached this second time, and for the second time Ibrahim didn’t come to our rescue, we decided it must be legit, but we were still to wary to accept. The guy looked so sad when we said no! He came back after lunch though to try one more time, and I was ready to give in. My feet hurt! I asked the other girls, Is this ok/Is it weird? The guy must’ve been able to read my expression and tone because he quickly assured me it was totally ok. So I gave in and we went to the balcony upstairs – I made Chrissy come with me. It turned out to be a really nice experience. It was about 10 minutes and he used shea and eucalyptus oils to rub down my shoulders, back, arms, face, neck, legs, and feet. It was by no means the best massage I’ve ever had but it felt great after the hiking, not to mention it was only the second back rub I’d had in 10 months. I enjoyed it so much that 3 of the other girls decided to get one too, and we were all satisfied with the $4 each of us spent. The massages didn’t make it any easier to put our shoes back on again to start the afternoon hike though…

Going Up
The first portion of the afternoon hike was 5km, including hiking back up the 600 meter escarpment. It was a pretty sweet climb, and even the weight of my backpack couldn’t get me down! Christina started falling behind a bit though, and said she wasn’t feeling very well. I could keep you in suspense as I mention her continued struggles over the next 3 days, but for her sake I’ll spill the beans now: when she got back to Bamako 6 days later, she found out she had amoebas. When I had amoebas, I could barely move off the couch for 2 weeks. Keep this in mind as I describe the next few days; what a trooper she was.









For the rest of us though, and even for Christina, it was a cool upward hike. During Rainy Season a waterfall runs through the trail, so it was green and a bit cooler here. And you could turn around and look over your shoulder to see Dogon Country sprawled out beneath you, as far as you could see. We weren’t even (too) bothered by all the old people who passed us hiking up and down. ;)
Looking Down


Indeli

At the top of the escarpment, we continued on to Indeli, an Animist village. We stopped here to fill up a Nalgene of dolo, or  tjchimidjama, the Malian home-brewed millet beer, which we drank later with our Christmas Eve dinner. According to Ibrahim, the Dogon tjchimidjama is much weaker than the San tjchimidjama. None of us liked it at all, and to Chrissy and I it tasted like yeast water. We’ll stick to San tjchimidjama, thank you very much!


We hurried the next 3km to Begnetouro – aka, the End/Top of the World. That’s what it felt like, anyway. We finally arrived just after dusk and piled into a campemant on the outskirts of the village. The village itself was at the top of a mini-cliff, remembering of course that we were also on top of the escarpment itself. 
Christmas Eve on the Top of the World
Remember in Aladdin where the Evil Jafar sends Aladdin and Abu to the Ends of the Earth? I’m pretty sure Begnetouro could give that scene a run for its money, blizzard not included. It was chilly though. Remember, we were smack in the middle of Cold Season, and on top of the plateau like that we were susceptible to quite a wind. I can’t begin to describe how unbelievably freezing our showers were. We showered in an open-air, not-quite-closed-walled nook at the edge of a drop-off using a water tank whose spigot could be opened to let out a chilling stream of water. I don’t think I’ve ever taken a more miserable shower, but not showering was unthinkable after marching in the heat and dust and sand all day. 

Tonight was our Christmas Eve dinner, and let me tell you, we made the most of it! The campemant cooked us the most delicious meal we’d had yet: a bean-mash base with vegetable sauce, a yummy salad, and early mangoes! But before we ate, I led us in the traditional Polish Christmas Eve breaking of the opłatek. In the Polish tradition, at Christmas Eve dinner, all the diners take a bit of a wafer called opłatek and everyone at the table exchanges well-wishes and blessings for each other for the coming year. As a person gives her neighbor her blessings, her neighbor breaks off a bit of the well-wishers opłatek and eats it before reciprocating with her own blessing. Growing up, my sister and I complained every year when we were forced to do this. The opłatek is sent over from our family in Poland and tastes like Styrofoam, and it was embarrassing having everyone listen as your dad gave you a blessing and then made you give one back to him in return! But of course, traditions like these become more meaningful the older you get, and I was proud to share this special family tradition with my friends. We didn’t have any opłatek, but we did have homemade maraschino cherry cookies that my Grandma had sent from Amεriki, and they made a great substitute! We took turns going around the table one by one, giving and receiving blessings, and it was a really special moment for me. In my opinion it was hard to feel homesick over the Christmas Season because it just wasn’t Christmas. No snow, no Christmas decorations and music everywhere you go, no wishes of Merry Christmas! and Happy Holidays! from complete strangers. It was almost like Christmas wasn’t actually happening 5000 miles away  as usual. But doing the opłatek tradition with my friends, I truly felt homesick for the first time. I’m so glad they allowed me to share with them my family tradition.

Michaela making s'mores.
After dinner we made s’mores with supplies I’d brought along (thanks to my family back home!) and shared them with our Malian hosts, who loved them! We played Christmas music all through dinner and sang carols together. I played “Dominick the Donkey” and showed off the special accompanying dance my mom and sister and I have. Much to her credit Chrissy joined in to dance with me. I can only imagine what the Malians were thinking as they watched us doubled over with laughter as we hee-hawed! with reindeer antlers and “swang-yer-partner”–ed around (don't ask). Before going to bed, we went up to the roof and laid down in a line with our heads together to look up at the stars. And there on Top of the World, we saw shooting stars like I’ve never seen before. One was so big and bright and long that Michaela shouted out in excitement while I was turned to talk to her, and I had enough time to react, turn around, and still see it streak across the sky. When we were about to fall asleep, we went back downstairs and huddled up into one big MegaBed. It was the only night we slept “outside” (there were 3 walls and half a ceiling to our sleeping space), and in addition to sharing Christmas Eve Love, we also shared Christmas Eve Warmth! It was a very special Christmas Eve indeed.


Monday, March 26, 2012

Christmas in Mali!! - Part 1

Believe it or not, Christmas came to Mali!! A very lovely Christmas, in fact. Per tradition, I didn’t start listening to Christmas music till the day after Thanksgiving, and then it was All Christmas All the Time for the next 6 weeks. Good thing I have quite the collection!

I prepared for the holiday by decorating my hut. Under Moose’s watchful eye, I made as many decorations as I could think of: a chalk drawing of a Christmas tree, complete with all my fam’s favorite ornaments, snowflakes, stockings for Moose and I, a “candle” in the “window” like at my dad’s house, and even a Papa Noel made with cotton fresh picked from the fields by Yours Truly. When I told the head doctor I had made paper snow to hang in my hut he cracked up and slapped hands with me in appreciation. This is the kind of snow my mom likes: pretty without the cold! And the night that my dad went to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert in Cleveland – the only show I’ve missed in 10 years – I started my TSO playlist at the same time his concert started, and Moose and I had our own private concert for the next hour and a half.
      

   




Thanks to my mom, I was even able to decorate tiny stockings for each of the San volunteers to hang in our house. Our newest volunteers had their site visit 2 weeks before Christmas, so when we all gathered to meet for the first time we had a Christmas themed party and everyone dressed up in “ugly sweaters” or Christmas colors.

Cooking Latkes.
Stuck in San for several days after the party, Chrissy and I even threw a Hannukah party on the first night of Hannukah. Sort of. None of us are Jewish so I had to pry details about what we were supposed to do from a Jewish friend of mine. The whole reason for the party was we wanted to make Challah, so of course we did that (which we later made into grilled cheese sandwiches with precious Real Cheese…so good!!!). I made a Menorah (I know – best you’ve ever seen), we played Hannukah music (Chrissy provided the Yiddish Klezmer, I provided the South Park Dreidel song), and I made everyone watch the movie Eight Crazy Nights, which, sadly, was barely Hannukah-themed and pretty terrible. Oh well, we tried! Chrissy even made latkes for breakfast the next morning.
My awesome Menorah.

For the Christmas holiday itself, Chrissy and I had planned a hiking trip up north a few hours to Dogon Country along with our friends Michaela, Christina, and Heather. (You can – and should – read about the Dogon people in this Wikipedia article). Dogon is the traditional Christmas trip for Mali PCVs, so lots of volunteers went there over the course of about 2 weeks on various hikes of varying lengths, although we didn’t see any other groups while on our own hike. We had decided on a 4 day hike: Dec 23-26, and we’d hired an English-speaking guide to lead us around.

Michaela and Christina met Chrissy and I in San and we headed north from there. It wasn’t a great start. I had decorated surprise, personalized Santa hats for everyone and left them at the San house and had to sprint back to grab them before the bus left. The bus ride should’ve taken 2 ½ hours but instead took 6 hours because of multiple break downs, one of which was fixed with a black plastic bag. We had intended to pick up Heather in her regional capital of Sevare and continue on to Bandiagara-our starting point-that night, but we arrived in Sevare so late we were forced to stay the night. We didn’t have reservations at the house though, so we all had to call our bosses at 9pm for permission to stay. We all started to realize we’d packed too much – me especially (I know, I know) – so the next morning we got up early, walked 20 minutes to the bus station, and after the hour long ride to Bandiagara had to stop at the PC house there so I could dump some of my stuff before we left. I also realized I’d forgotten my toothbrush, so with sort-of directions in my head, I took off sprinting for the nearest butiki. I found the butiki and the toothbrush ok but got lost on the way back, and it took me twice as long to find my way. Before finally leaving, our group decided we needed a “Buddy System” of responsibility. There were 2 flaws with this plan, though. First, there were 5 of us. Second, no one wanted to be responsible for me! We ended up doing a Circle of Responsibility instead. Chrissy, trooper that she is, took over for me. (It’s cool, she’s used to it). I was in charge of Christina, she in charge of Heather, she in charge of Michaela, and she in charge of Chrissy. 

Our guard, Ibrahim, had met us at the bus stop, driven us to the PC house, and gone off on some errands while we (I) got ready. When he got back I gave him his Santa hat, and he was so excited! He immediately took his baseball cap off and put on the Santa hat, and like the rest of us, only took it off to sleep over the next 4 days. 
Ready to go!

To start the trip, we drove an hour out of Bandiagara towards the Bandiagara Escarpment. (If you haven’t read that Wikipedia article yet, now would be a great time). The escarpment is a cliff almost 100 miles long, and for centuries the Dogon people and their predecessors have built their villages above, below, and into the cliffs, much like the Native Americans of the Southwest. Ibrahim had planned out the whole trip for us, and we started in a village called Djiguibombo, stopping on the way there to have a quick “history lesson” as Ibrahim called it, about the surrounding area. As soon as our car left the village, Christina realized she’d left her phone on the seat. Whoops. First fail of Circle of Responsibility (::blush::). We took a tour of the village, and we quickly realized just how different Dogon is from all of our respective areas in Mali. Not only does it look much different, but the Dogon people speak different languages than Bambara. For the first time since coming to Mali, I couldn’t communicate at all. When I first moved to homestay, I’d already been taught how to greet, how to say my name, how to ask someone else their name, how to count, and how to say yes and no. I now realized just how far you can get with that basic vocabulary, and how limiting and frustrating it was not to be able to communicate at all. We were immediately mobbed by children who wanted to hold our hands and walk with us, and we couldn’t say anything to them. It was so unsettling. And of course, we kept resorting to Bambara out of habit.
  
Before we left Djiguibombo, Ibrahim gave us an outline of the next four days and asked us if we wanted to hire porters to carry our bags. We all decided we were hardcore enough to do it ourselves. Then we started out.

This is 15 minutes after we started:
Uh oh.
Ok, we exaggerated a bit. But we did quickly realize what the next 4 days would be like!


Walking on the Moon.





At first we started on the road, and I felt kind of like I was in a state park in the American Southwest. I wondered if we’d be on a road the whole time and was a little disappointed. Not to fear though, the road was only to get us a few kilometers away, then we abandoned it and walked out onto the moon. Or at least that’s what it felt like. The moon continued for awhile, and eventually the scenery changed as we started to head down the escarpment.


Baller woman.
At one point a Dogon woman caught up with us and walked along side us for awhile. We all had on hiking clothes, big backpacks, sneakers or Chackos, and were struggling. Ibrahim had on flip flops and a small backpack and was always there to lend a helping hand. The woman behind us wore flip flops or occasionally went barefoot, wore a tafe (wrap skirt), and carried a giant bowl of food on her head. So much for our hard-core-ness. When we finally reached the bottom of the 700 meter escarpment, we all collapsed for a water break while the woman calmly passed us by, no water needed. Oh yeah, and it was still in the 90-100s even though it was Cold Season.

It wasn’t too far from our break spot to our lunch village. We were so happy to see those huts! We were swarmed by kids running behind us as we walked in and Ibrahim quickly realized they were raising more of a commotion than usual. Most of the kids had run off but a few stuck around to tattle: turns out some of the kids had stolen stuff out of the net pocket on the back of my backpack. Ibrahim stormed off and returned 5 minutes later with my mosquito repellant and hand sanitizer (significantly diminished) but I never got back the full pack of gum. Bad move, kids, your parents rely on a lot of income from tourism.

We collapsed into our chairs at the lunch campemant and quickly made a thrilling discovery: they had cold drinks! I don’t think a Fanta has ever tasted so good. And our lunch of pasta with tomato-oil sauce was one of the most delicious meals ever. And the naps we took in the lounge chairs were deliciously restful.

We had walked 5km.

After our rest, we shouldered our backpacks and moved on out. Just outside of the village, as we walked down a dirt path that bordered some fields, women working in the fields dropped what they were doing and came running over to dance with us. It was really exciting! That is, until we realized they wanted money from us in exchange for their enthusiasm. Money or kola nuts, a popular caffeinated nut among Malian adults, especially the old people, given to show respect or thanks. (I personally think they taste like daffodils).

This was our first realization of just how much tourism has ruined this beautiful, culturally-rich area. Yes, tourism brings in much-needed money. But at a higher rate than the rest of Mali, the people are taught from an early age that white people are walking ATMs, freely dispensing money and candy to anyone who asks, begs, lowers themselves by acting ridiculous, or even just stands there. And unfortunately, the people learn this for a reason – too many white people have conformed to that stereotype. Over the next few days we heard repeatedly, through every village we passed, from the children: Ça va le bonbon? The only French they know – Hi, the candy? (Candy was the most requested item but can be (and was) replaced with nearly anything: ball, money, gift, pen). And as much as I really loved Ibrahim and thought he was a great guide (I’ll hire him again if I do another hike), he didn’t help in this area – he’d suggested in Djiguibombo that we buy 2 bags of kola nuts to give out as we went. We’d obliged – we’d thought they were to give to the dugutigis (village chiefs) or to people who accommodated us, like the blacksmiths who let us into their work area and told us about their work. That was totally acceptable to us. But Ibrahim wanted us to give kola nuts to every adult we passed, and we finally had to tell him we were not comfortable with this, it goes against everything Peace Corps stands for (sustainable, community-oriented, non-funded development), and we weren’t going to do it. Thankfully, he accepted our decision.

The second half of the day’s hike was only 3km and passed through the village of Kani Kombole before arriving at Teli, whose ancient village built into the cliffs is no longer inhabited but protected as a World Heritage site. After dropping off our bags at the campemant where we would spend the night, Ibrahim took us on an uphill hike into the village, then walked us around and taught us the history of the village and its people. It was strange for me to be in a place like this with no other tourists. I’ve been to many historical sites but they’ve always been overrun with other people. It was so nice to have this place just to ourselves and let Ibrahim lead us where he would, in and out of the rooms and paths. We saw the beginning of the sunset from the cliffs, then headed down to the campemant for long-awaited showers, drinks, and dinner.

The Old Cliff Village of Teli.