Tuesday, March 19, 2013

A Week In My World - Day 8

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Ok, so I know technically a week ends with Day 7 but I figured I might as well wrap up the week-long journal with my last day in San.

This morning was the main reason for why the 3 of us had come into San at the same time – Saturday morning brunch! We figured with most people out of town it was a great time to get together and make a fabulous brunch. And fabulous it was. Chrissy made homemade Challah (unbelievably delicious Jewish bread) and made that into French Toast. Henry made homemade banana bread. And I made strawberry-banana smoothies and provided the syrup, courtesy of my dad. (Sadly no strawberries in Mali but we do have strawberry-flavored yogurt).

Oh. My. God. The Challah recipe makes 2 loaves and we were debating whether or not to make both loaves into French Toast. We decided to do just one at first, which made 3 slices for each of us, a task we figured would be effortless. False. After 2 pieces each, plus our banana bread and smoothies, we all immediately fell into a food coma and couldn’t move. We couldn’t even finish our last pieces! I literally dragged a mattress into the living room and collapsed on it and didn’t move. So. Good!
Challah french toast and Ameriki syrup. 

Unfortunately for him, Henry had to go back to site and needed to catch a noon bus. Sucker. His food coma was cut tragically short so he could get to the bus station on time. And unfortunately for me, I had too many errands to finish up to be a vegetable for very long. My errands were cut short when I went to the bank and the ATM wasn’t working (again) and my fabric shopping was eliminated. I did have to trek out to the market to buy food for village, and I was NOT happy about it. I hadn’t slept much the night before (catching up on Grey’s Anatomy) so I was tired, full, and it was well over 100°. Whine.

Luckily I didn’t have too much money to spend, and market was oddly dead, so I was in and out pretty quickly. The Veggie Lady for garlic, and green peppers: check! Random ladies for cabbage, dried fish (for Moose), peanut butter, cucumber, and beets: check! Potato Lady for potatoes: check! The Potato Lady is quite a character. I know many of the San PCVs don’t really like her because she’s a little too aggressive in her sales. But for some reason she really likes me, so I always go back to her. And because I always go back to her, she occasionally gives me gifts. Today I asked for 2 kilos of potatoes and she gave me an extra kilo for free! Good thing Moose likes potatoes a lot, because we have quite the collection now. I stopped off to say goodbye to Baco and Abu and tell them I was heading back to village, and then home again to finish up packing. Chrissy and I had talked about making Challah grilled cheese for lunch, but we were both still so full that we couldn’t even think about eating!

The carpenter told me to come at 4 to pick up my bookshelves. I was a little worried that 4pm would be pushing getting home on a bashé a little too much – the bashés run at least till sundown, but I needed to make sure I got home before the sun set and I also wasn’t sure if I’d have trouble getting Moose on again. And I often sit at the bashé station for several hours before one is ready to leave. But I really wanted those shelves! So Chrissy and I left with all of my stuff and were at the carpenter’s a few minutes after 4. The shelves looked great, except I quickly noticed that all three were evenly spaced. I had specifically written down and described that I wanted a taller bottom shelf for binders and manuals – taller books – and this was not what I wanted. I explained my concerns, which the carpenter understood perfectly because he remembered exactly the measurements I’d given him – he just hadn’t done it. Why, I don’t know. He said if we waited 30 minutes he would fix it. Again, I was worried about the time, but I really wanted those shelves! So we waited.

The carpenter has a great little apprentice named Bura, maybe 12 years old, so we talked with him a bit. It took awhile, but by 5:00 the shelves were done, and they were perfect! The carpenter even paid for a man to take the shelves to the bashé station in a push cart. Totally worth it. Even better, because a bashé was just getting ready to leave when we got there. And there were no complaints that I had 2 bags, a dog, and a big set of bookshelves, still wet with stain. I do know many of the men who work at the station, so maybe that’s why they were so much more easy going this time, I don’t know. But I was thankful for it! The bashé was full but not overcrowded, and Moose, perfect dog that he is, was so good the whole 40-minute ride home. He sat on my lap and shifted positions many times but never barked, never bothered anybody else, never peed on my lap (just more drool). He’s such a good dog! And of course, everyone gets a kick out of the white girl holding the conspicuously clean dog and doing weird things like talking to it and kissing its head. Man, white people are weird.

The bashé dropped me off in my village and Alima’s brother Yaya was waiting for me. He took my shoulder bag (pretty heavy for such a little kid!), I took my backpack, purse, and lifted the shelves on top of my head, and we let Moose run free beside us. The shelves were surprisingly light but unfortunately my backpack – stuffed full with my computer, potatoes, and vegetables – was not. I had to have both hands on the shelves to steady them, which meant the backpack pulled painfully at my shoulders. I had to stop by the well to rest for a minute, and by the time we passed the butiki I was done. I left the shelves in the middle of the road and continued on home to drop off my other bags. Yaya, my brother Sinali, and I went back for the shelves and carried them home together, and they are now sitting proudly in the corner of my kitchen – I’m so excited to fill them up with all of my books!!

The rest of the day passed quickly. There wasn’t much daylight left, so I sent Sinali on my bike to the pump for well and stopped over the greet my host family. And of course to play with Batoma and Terimuso for a little bit! Two of my 10 eggs had broken on the ride home, so I scrambled those for Moose’s dinner and ate the pb&j Challah sandwich I’d made for myself before leaving San. Exhausted, I dragged a mat outside and laid down on it, the kids crowding around me. I dozed off several times amidst their talking, giggling, and playing. Not to mention stroking my hair and pulling my toes. Sinali balled up his shirt to make me a pillow. Eventually I woke up when the kid next to me, who had also fallen asleep, shifted and smacked me in the face with his arm. Time to go! Time for bed. :D

My attempt to sleep was interrupted by the donkeys. All at once, every donkey in the neighborhood, on all sides of my house, started doing the crazy donkey seizure-bray, all at the same time. It was as if Donkey Armaggedon was happening. I was dɔɔni (a little) worried that the Donkeys were taking over my village.

And that, my loyal readers, is a week (+ a day) in My Life!

A few weeks later after painting my bookshelves and getting a curtain made:


Tuesday, March 12, 2013

A Week in My World - Day 7

Friday, February 17, 2012

I woke up early this morning, ready to get the show on the road! But of course, as always, I overestimated my abilities to get ready quickly. By the time I made breakfast for me and Moose, washed dishes from the farani extravaganza, and packed, I was about an hour and a half behind schedule. Luckily I live in Mali and I don’t really have a schedule, and luckily I’m used to my own lateness and don’t really worry about it anymore. My only concern was that I had a bunch of errands to get done in San, and since today is Friday – prayer day – I knew much of the city would shut down after lunch. So I did need to get a move on.

I picked up Alima at her house to wait at the road with me and we took Moose and my bags to sit and wait for a bashé . There’s no bashé schedule, so basically you just have to sit around and wait until a car comes. It can be frustrating at times. This time we hadn’t waited too long when a bashé came -- but the driver took one look at Moose and said we couldn’t go; they were too full. I protested that Moose could sit on my lap; he said Moose could ride on the top. I refused, sure he was joking. Apparently he wasn’t. But no way my baby was going up there! When I texted Chrissy about it she was indignant on my behalf: “Tell them they let chickens and sheep on, how are they not going to accept a dog? How do you say discrimination in Bambara?”

So we sat and waited. And waited. Three more vehicles passed us, none of them public transport, and none willing to stop for me. The wind started to pick up and then got worse and worse till the air was full of dust and it was hard to breathe. Alima had to go home to make toh for her family, but Djeneba came and sat with me, along with the fluid crowd that I attract, who come and go after finding out what I’m doing and where I’m going. Finally, a little after an hour of waiting, when I was really starting to worry, another bashé came, and this one only had 3 other people in it – that never happens! They charged me extra for Moose but that was no problem; I’d expected it now that he’s bigger.

We had an easy ride to San; Moose behaved himself very well and only drooled on my leg a lot. We did stop at the last village before San – it’s the turnoff to take the road up north, and 2 of our passengers were getting off there. Unfortunately, I’m apparently developing a bad habit of not recognizing the bashé money collectors (who ride in the bashé with us) and instead end up thinking that they’re kids begging for money, so then I yell at them. (That makes me sound like a terrible person – I’m not, it’s a complicated corrupt “Koranic” teaching system that I can’t explain now, but it totally exploits kids and they’re also super annoying so if you tell them no and they keep bugging you it’s normal to give them crap). Anyway, the money collector was apparently not pleased with my mistake, because I gave him too much money (I didn’t have the correct change on me) and when we got to San he wouldn’t give me the correct amount of change. I didn’t feel like fighting it too hard so I gave up and left – I had lots to do!

I took Moose to the house where he promptly barked his tail off at our guard (Moose is very wary of adult Malian men) and then ran inside where Henry was sitting on the couch, and he was so excited to see Henry (whom he’d never met before) that he peed all over Henry’s hat and book and then jumped into his lap. Good thing Henry likes dogs! Just like every other Malian, Moose must assume that since I’m white I know and am friends with any other white person he sees, because he loves all of the Peace Corps boys. (I'm not being racist. All the PC boys in my area are white ).

I left Moose with Henry and headed off to the bank where – thank Allah! – my ATM card actually worked, and then to the post office to pick up a bunch of packages from awesome people! (Thanks Mama, Alicia, and Chris & Ning!) I delivered those to the house, but my work wasn’t done – I had to hurry and take Moose to the vet to get his rabies shot before lunch, and I only had about 30 minutes. Henry gave me directions and I headed out, stopping along the way to greet my friend Saly who sells awesome sandwiches.

We found the vet – I have no idea why I was expecting an actual office. In my mind, I was picturing something like the vet back home, which is way nicer than the hospitals here. Needless to say, that was wrong. It was basically a butiki with a small counter with meds behind it, and a refrigerator for the vaccinations. And 2 men in white coats. Good thing they had a cow on their sign or I might’ve walked right past it. I was surprised just how easy it all went. I’d been worried that maybe I needed an appointment – again, I don’t know what I was thinking. The first doctor knew exactly what I wanted and spoke clearly to me so I could understand him. In a matter of 10 minutes he prepared the shot, gave it to Moose (who didn’t even cry, I was so proud!), and sat me down to fill out Moose’s vaccination card.

Technically this card means I could take Moose back to Ameriki without having to Quarantine him, but for anybody who’s been wondering, I do not plan to take Moose home. As much as I love him, and as much as I hate to leave him even for an afternoon, I’ll be in no position to have a dog when I go back; not to mention he spends his life here always outside, never on a leash, going where he pleases - Ameriki is no life for him. so I’ll leave him with Alima. She’s wonderful with him and he loves her too, so I’m not at all worried about what will happen to him when I'm gone.

Moose’s shot was done, but errands still weren’t over! I stopped at the seed store to pick up seeds for a potential future garden (tomatoes, eggplant, and green peppers), went to my favorite butiki to show the owner, my friend Baco, how much Moose had grown, and dropped Moose off at the house before going to the carpenter. I’ve been wanting a bookshelf for my house ever since I moved in 9 months ago, but I knew it would be a lot of money and I just never got around to it. But I've decided to suck it up and deal with the cost; I just have too many books and Peace Corps manuals cluttering up my table. I’d carefully measured just how big I wanted the shelves and drawn up a picture so I could explain exactly what I wanted. The carpenter is used to dealing with us PCVs so he was great at talking with me, and I left there satisfied with his understanding of I wanted. Not so satisfied with the price; I’m pretty sure I was overcharged (a common thing when you’re a walking ATM, aka white) but I did cut the price by 20% so I figured I’d deal. I wanted the shelves too badly to care.

Awesome chameleon-fabric outfits.
Errands over, I finally made it back to the house, proud of all my accomplishments! I got to sit down and eat lunch and open my packages. Chrissy arrived and the 3 of us devoured the bag of Bugles my mom had sent – tastes like Grandma’s house! After awhile Chrissy and I went to our tailor’s shop. His name is Abu and he’s actually originally from my village, and I really enjoy sitting and talking with him. He’s also used to PCVs and is great at talking to us and making our clothes so they fit the way we Americans want them to fit. In fact, Abu is known by PCVs all over Mali as being a particularly good tailor. I’d ordered a few dresses from him and Chrissy wanted to put in her orders. I’d forgotten to ask Abu to put pockets in the dress he’d finished, so we sat around while he ripped out the seams and put in pockets for me – talk about good service! My dress is totally awesome – it has chameleons all over it! A Mali gem for sure. :D

The rest of the day was relaxing. We’d decided to make pizza for dinner, so we got all the supplies and Chrissy made a homemade crust. My mom had sent me squeezy pizza sauce and Chrissy’s mom had sent her Gouda cheese so we (Chrissy) made one hell of a pizza. Probably the best I’ve had in the last year – so good! I was so sad when it was over. It was ok though, because we had homemade chocolate chip cookies from my dad and homemade oatmeal cookies from my mom. I’m pretty sure Henry and I ate at least 10 cookies each – no joke! A fabulous end to a productive day!
Delicious, delicious pizza. Mmm.



Friday, February 22, 2013

A Week in My World - Day 6


Thursday, February 16, 2012

I went to Alima’s house early this morning and we drank tea before we, along with another girl from her concession complex named Batoma (Remember what that means? She’s actually named after an older female relative and so goes by the nickname of Batoma), headed out into the bush to cut wood. Moose went with us and had probably one of the best days of his young life, since I set out a bowl of water and let him run wherever he wanted. We walked about 20 minutes outside of town to an area I’ve never been. I guess we call it “the bush” in Africa because aside from a few trees here and there it’s mostly just lots of dirt and lots of scrubby brush. That was our target: cutting limbs from the scrubby brush. Which, let me tell you, is way harder than it looks.
The Bush.



Alima chopping wood.
 Alima and Batoma each had a djeli, a sort of hatchet thingy, that they used to cut limbs. Malian tools aren’t the most stable equipment, and this particular tool is formed by wedging a piece of metal into a hole in a wooden club, so every now and then the metal part drops out of the wood handle and you have to pound it back into place. It pretty much doubles the work, so it’s not exactly a walk in the park. I was always slightly terrified that Alima would rear back to hatchet up some wood and the metal blade would go flying off and knock me in the head, but luckily it always seemed to fall out when the tool was near the ground, and the closest I came to injury was when I slung it over my back to carry it and the blade fell out, scraping my leg on the way down.

Alima also used the handle to run through the dead leaves collected around the bushes before she chopped: she was checking for snakes. I never would’ve thought to do that, but according to the Commune meeting I attended last Hot Season, we have cobras, pythons, and vipers in area, so it’s a good thing Alima had the presence of mind to check! Luckily we didn’t see anything.

The girls chopped for awhile while I stood around and watched, and eventually Alima called me over to chop. I’m so thankful that we’re well past the stage where I’m not allowed to do anything. Now she doesn’t protest when I do stuff that’s easy (like sweeping my yard) and she humors me and lets me try stuff that’s hard (like chopping wood) before taking over again. She watched and giggled as I huffed and puffed and grunted and chopped that tree (ok, one bush limb) down! All I could think about while trying to chop the same place over and over was the scene in Titanic when Rose has to use an ax to hack Jack’s handcuffs apart. Jack was one brave man! If I’d been there instead of Rose, there’s a good chance Jack would’ve walked out of that room with only one hand, or at the very least, missing a couple of fingers.
Dragging wood.

I don’t have any pictures of my awesome feat, but by the time I finished, sweating profusely and out of breath, I felt about the same as I did in this photo, when my dad made me chop down the whole Christmas tree the month before I left for Mali. He said since I wasn’t going to be able to help for the next few years, I had to do it all by myself this time instead of tag-teaming it. This is how I finished:
 (Just imagine dirt instead of snow, bushes instead of trees, and me without a coat).

After that, I figured I’d made my point. Alima took over again and my contribution was limited to helping drag the limbs around. The rest of the time I watched, played in the dirt with sticks, and borrowed the dieli long enough to hack a stick into a perfect baton so I could play with that, too. Occasionally I got smacked in the face from a flying sliver of wood. My presence was redeemed when it was time to go home: I got to help carry the wood! We divided it into 3 piles: a big one for Alima, a medium one for Batoma, and a little one for me. But still big enough to look respectable. No one has to know that out of the 40 or so branches, I only chopped one. That’s right, at least 40! And all of this in the heat (high 90s, if not low 100s), no shade, and the girls hadn’t even eaten breakfast, because for some reason there wasn’t any. And all without complaining or whining. My sister and I would NOT have done well in this childhood!
Carrying wood home.

I managed to make it back into the village without dropping my load, and Moose made it back after walking through only one mud puddle, so I’d say we Sogobas had a successful work day. We grabbed the deck of cards and some cashews from my house and headed back to Alima’s house to play until lunch was ready, and then again after lunch. For some reason after awhile all I could think about was how it’s been a year since I’ve gone to a movie theater, and how much I really wanted to go. It wasn’t even that I really wanted to see a show, or that I wanted to be away from the village, I just really wanted to be in a theater for some reason. The most random things come to your mind out here, when there’s so much time to think!

I went home alone and did some chores before my mom called for our weekly chat. I noticed while on the phone that my clock (which has a built-in thermometer) had ended up in the sun and was now reading 118° - Hot Season is a-coming! It’s not so bad yet though.

Alima came over to teach me how to cook farani, one of my favorite Malian foods, which is basically fried dough. You can put various things in it; we chose onion, garlic, and tomatoes – no hot pepper! Alima knows I have an unreasonably low tolerance for spice. I tell her it’s my dad’s fault, because he can’t eat spicy foods either.

Cooking farani turned out to be a way bigger task than I’d imagined. Almost right away Alima ran off, saying she’d be right back. When she didn’t come back soon, I washed all of my dishes and sifted the flour we’d need. I spilled a bunch of flour on the ground, which Alima’s 7-year-old brother Yaya pointed out to me. I knew if Alima came back and found flour all over the ground she’d lecture me, even though it’s my flour, so Yaya and I quickly found some dirt to spread over the top and hide it. Alima still didn’t come back so after 30 minutes I went out and found her doing a neighbor’s laundry.

I don’t get it either.

By the time we made the batter and waited for fire to arrive from Alima’s house, fried it all, refried it, and ate it, it was about 3 ½ hours later! It was a nice evening though, and lots of kids came over to hang out and watch. We had one scary moment when Alima accidentally tipped over the entire pot of boiling oil and it spilled on the ground mere inches or less from where all the kids were sitting, but thank Allah it didn’t land on anyone. I really enjoy hanging out with the kids at night, they have such personalities!

Conversation came around to the fact that I have 3 flashlights. Amadou, my little pistol, said, “Michelli, give me one of your flashlights!” When I asked why, he said, “So I can go walk around with a girl!” Everyone cracked up! Then his older brother Sidiki said, “Michelli, I have 2 girlfriends. Adjaratou and you!” I responded, “Who’s your first girlfriend?” He said it was me, so I accepted that. I’m not about to be a 2nd girlfriend to anyone, not even an 11 year old! :D