Malian Hospitality

I had just had a big fight with another volunteer and wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially those I can't actually communicate with. I locked myself in my room and would have been perfectly happy to sleep away the morning, but for some reason the Malians thought this wasn't healthy. As I was awaken from a deep sleep at 11 am, I cursed my new found friend making skills. Things were so much easier when no one really knew me, no one really expected me to leave my house! I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, threw on whatever was hanging next to me and walked to my friend's house to have tea and stare at each other, again. I was surprised by her humor and energy. It was impossible to be in a bad mood. We made tea and I lost track of time. Before I knew it I was rushing off to my homologue's to try to get some work done. And to think I wanted to just mope in my house all day! Malian hospitality is easy to be welcomed by. Most is not expected to be paid back either. Last week my worst fears were realized. When taking public transportation in Mali, you don't pay until you are almost at your destination, making it difficult to run back or ask your friend that you are leaving for money if you, for example, forget your purse. Of course the Malians found it hard to believe that the only white foreigner on the bus didn't have any money. I was in the process of trying to ask a friend in a passing bus at the station for some money by yelling, "Wari bana, my money's out" when someone paid for me. The guy didn't tell me his name and got off at the next stop. Thanks Mali, I owe you one.
Other Malian hospitalities are harder to get use to. My homologue feeds me lunch and dinner everyday I am in my village and I feel the need to pay her back. She refuses to let me give her money and the gifts I bring back after going to the capital seem too small and culturally required even if she wasn't feeding me. I was told that just getting a lot of rice is a good gesture as most meals are rice based. That failed. Her husband, instead of thanking me, joked that I must be really hungry and that's why I brought all the rice. I brought back wood that I gathered with one of the other women in the village, but that too was met with, "Massaba, why would you bring us wood? Look at all the wood we have!" Strike 3. I was about to give up and resign myself to feeling like a burden when the Peace Corps came up with the universal global currency, Obama. They had fabric made with Obama's face printed on it and the phase, "Yes we can!" on it and it was for sale at the office. When I gave my homologue enough fabric to make a "complete" outfit she did an Obama dance. As I was leaving after lunch her husband was saying goodbye and, almost as an afterthought, said, "Oh Massaba, thanks for the fabric, it looks really nice." Yes! Finally I got the pat on the back that I was so desperately looking for. Of course then my homologue bought me an entire outfit for the women's day holiday. Homologue one million, Massaba 2.

My first African date

There were a lot of things working in my favor this Thursday. It had just rained, I had just had my hair braided, she had just celebrated her second birthday. Ma is my friend's daughter and among many other things, is deathly afraid of me. Our first few meetings she screamed and shook in terror. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty good with kids, even in Africa, but she apparently thinks I look different from all the Africans... weird. After going to my friend's house everyday for about 3 weeks now, she still refuses to be left alone with me even for the shortest amount of time, let alone sit next to me. Everyday around 5 I walk from my friend's house across the village to my homologue's house and back to say hi and get my dinner, and everyday Ma's mom jokes that she should go with me, each time responded with a firm, "No" with an underlining "I don't think so". But today, on her birthday, she said yes. It was too quiet for me to hear and I didn't take my friend seriously, but when Ma held my hand without crying I didn't want to ruin my chance. It had all the insecurities of a first date. I showed her around my part of town, everyone commented on my new "friend", of course I did most of the talking as my palms started to sweat. I didn't want anything to upset her so I tried to avoid most things that wouldn't normally bother me but today seemed deadly, an over excited dog, hassling children, the crazy old lady. When we got to my homologue's house I wanted Ma to make a good impression on them. She's so damn cute! But of course she was too afraid to say anything. I knew when my homologues said, "Maybe next time don't bring her, she's about to cry," that maybe this was too much for a first date. On the way back things started to look up. The sunset was fantastic beyond the mango trees and rain clouds. Ma held my hand tighter and even took the lead for a little bit. When we finally got back to her house I was trying to think of where our next "date" would be as the fear spell seemed to have been broken, but just then as I asked her to sit by me, I heard the familiar wined up and the overly surpressed bawl. Damn it, But it went so well! "It's ok," I tried to tell her, "I get that a lot." So I guess she's not ready, maybe she won't ever be ready, but we'll always have that first date, our stroll through the mango grove.

Very delayed Christmas pictures

So here are the pictures from our Christmas at Dave's site. We roasted a pig!!! It was delicious and a little culturally inappropriate, but there were enough Christians in his village that we didn't feel too bad. I promise to actually take the time this week to write something meaningful, but until then.... Here you go!

We all took our "head shots"































Here's the Fam! From left to right we have Hunter, Dave, Chris, me, Amber, Emily and Lindsey

We roasted the pig on a spit and turned it in shifts.

Long over due

So we did a bike tour, right before Thanksgiving. These are a bit old but still good. Again I didn't take the pictures, my friend Dan did, but I was definately was there!







Also the internet was going really slowly so this is all I had time to put up.


We were greet by the first village with a celebration. The dancers are dressed up as various animals. The red mask is a gorilla.















A of course Dave felt the need to climb a tree....

Festivities

My friend Mako and myself dressed up for the holiday













The holiday festivities, killing a lamb. This is to remember how Abraham was told to sacrifice his son and god gave him a lamb at the last minute instead.














My counterpart's family, visiting for the holiday













My little sisters that act like Laura and me, Laura you're on the right.














A ridiculous amount of watermelons

New Tastes and Preferences

As I was mopping to the rhythm of "No Woman, No Cry" my assistant to the the store manager bustles into the back room grumbling, "I hate Bob Marley!" and before I can even start humming, the song on the Starbucks radio is changed. How could anyone hate Bob? I thought it was just because this lady was clearly jaded, but when I left for Africa two months later I had the same sour taste for Marley in my mouth. It's funny how association can completely ruin a song, or in this case, an artist. If I hear the soothing Jamacan beats I am overwhelmed with a sense that I'm forgetting to do something and I shouldn't be sitting around! I can't listen to Buffalo Soldier without the erge to restock the milk fridge in preparation for the next rush of customers. Even now in Mali where electricity is scarce, let alone fridges and jugs of milk, I am still filled with that sense of panic. While going through my daily task of sweeping out my hut I started humming along with the music playing outside, "One love, one life, let's get together and be all right..." Oh no did I remember to turn over the pastry case? I drop my broom and rush outside. "Hey Masaba, do you like Bob Marley?" English songs here are as scarce as ice cubes so I couldn't exactly say no to the comforting sense of familarity. Before I knew it I was translating the unifying lyrics into Bambara, "Umm it's an animal like a cow, but bigger, and a person that fights with the military. No the person isn't the animal, but yeah in the middle of Ameriki. And the rest you know, Whoah whoah whoah." Beggers can't be choosers and I am surprised to find what I can tolerate and even like when given little resources. Why yes I do like watermelon, and all melons for that matter. Yes I would like another piece of that lamb stomach and is that a noodle or intestines? Why fresh whole milk is delicious even if I can possibly get TB from it! No, no I would like more oil with my macaroni please and more carbs, do you have any bread, that's awesome. I wouldn't have described myself as a picky eater before, but being here takes that to a completely different level. I won't even start with the 3 second rule. I am picky if I don't really want to eat the nose fat of the goat, but then again I think I'm ok with being classified as picky if those are the peramiters. I will still try it once, but I may not finish a whole plate of it. And as a general rule of thumb, if it's found in the states, it's probably better tasting here than it ever will be, and if it's not, well then it's a great story for later. Bottoms up!

Foto Op

These are all wonderful pictures of various times, copywrite Hunter Gray:
Me and Rabayah in the cab in Bamako.

Me and my personal chef, aka Dave at my site.

Hunter's hike with his family


The view of the valley
The local mascot

From top left to right, Holly, Dave, Emily (front), Amanda, Me
The "Gang" Emily, Dan, Amanda, Holly, Me, my photographer Hunter, Jamie, and Chris front and center
My local transportation. I have to take the van on the left first and then the truck on the right when actually in Bamako. Totally safe I promise, or at least so far it has been!