giving thanks for tabaski

HAPPY DECEMBER!!!

Soon I will be making my way back to the US so this will most likely be my last entry unless something really interesting happens and I find enough time in my last few days to produce one more short post.

Currently, I am back from Sanankoroba where I did most of my research for my ISP, or field research project. I stayed for ten days at the SOS Village there and conducted tons of interviews with the directors of the establishment and the schools that work in conjunction with it. The SOS Village is a type of orphanage but the word orphanage is not a very accurate description. The SOS Village in Sanankoroba is one of 450 villages internationally and the organization works to house and create families within its own structure for orphaned and abandoned children in troubled and poor areas. It also creates community outreach programs providing clothes, education, food and medical attention to the poorest children in neighboring villages that would have been abandoned from their families without the support of the organization. Because the organization creates families, complete with houses on the premises that include mothers, aunts, etc, none of the children can be adopted but instead the organization works as the adoptive agent. I loved the time I got to spend there and actually ended up living with one of the families, family 15 to be exact. Between the SOS Village homes, community programs, and school system it has established, the organization in Sanankoroba helps over 1000 kids currently, and that figure does not take into account the children that have left the area due to age. Within its 20 years of existence in this particular area, the SOS Village has helped TONS of kids create great futures for themselves through loving home environments. Overall the organization is run incredibly, both at the local and international levels, and I felt really privileged to gain as much access into their lives as I did. Writing my paper went great and because I finished it and the rest of my research so quickly, my life has been somewhat relaxing the past few weeks… for the most part, I hang out around my house with my housemates, explore the city, go to the pool, hang out with my host family, watch movies, and try to learn to cook.

As for the two big things that have gone on lately:

1. Thanksgiving:
Yes, even being abroad, I celebrated Thanksgiving. Not only is it one of my favorite holidays in the US but celebrating our little traditions, even while abroad, makes me feel like a ‘good’ American. Most of my class decided to get together and celebrate in a potluck style. My housemates (Kat, Luke, and Sam) and I were put in charge of making the mashed potatoes and took our job VERY seriously. The morning of, Kat and I went to an alimentation and bought 15 kilos of potatoes… I don’t know how to accurately convert that into pounds but it is something like 33 pounds, which is a LOT of potatoes. We also got 7 full cloves of garlic and 6 sticks of butter, so you can imagine how many potatoes we must have gotten in order to need that much garlic and that much butter. The four of us then spent the entire afternoon peeling all of the potatoes (a process that took all four of us two hours) and trying to cook them. The cooking situation at our house is interesting. Most Malian houses don’t have indoor kitchens and definitely do not have stoves. Because we are renting a more Western style house due to the fact that we couldn’t survive with just the four of us in a Malian style house, we have an indoor kitchen but the stove and pots &pan situation is very difficult; only two of the small burners work and we have a limited selection of strange pots and only two small pans with which to try and cook. Although cooking all of the potatoes we had peeled proved to be difficult, we rotated the cooking and mashing into organized shifts and I took responsibility for the garlic. I even got to use one of the traditional Malian pounders to mash up all of the garlic before I roasted it in a pan on the oven, which was the highlight of my day. There’s nothing cooler than using a traditional African cooking technique while preparing western mashed potatoes for an American Thanksgiving potluck. After we made our three large bowls, we piled into a taxi and headed for school where the potluck was being held. There was about three-fourths of my class present at the dinner (some kids were still traveling for their ISP or conducting interviews so they couldn’t make it) and all of our professors. We had a smorgasbord of food present including traditional stuffing, sweet potato pie, green beans, citrus carrots, bread pudding, brochetta, apple sauce, and obviously tons of watermelon (they are in season and thus we eat about a watermelon a day here). We sat outside in the courtyard of our school on our main steps under the stars. The weather was perfect, not TOO hot and eating all together as our new little SIT family was great. Also, having the opportunity to share the holiday with our teachers was neat since they always go out of their way to include us in their holiday festivities. Although it was a very untraditional take on a very traditional holiday, we did the best we could with what we had and it turned out great in the end. I will say this though, I am sure I am not the only kid from the program who is now anxiously awaiting the arrival of next year’s Thanksgiving dinner.

2. Tabaski:
I got to celebrate another Islamic holiday with my family! Although the post-Ramadan fete (or the last fete that I celebrated with my family back in September) was a little disappointing, this holiday was the bomb. The holiday is called Tabaski and it’s a three day celebration centered on the slaughtering of a ram in honor of the prophet Issac. The first day was the 28th of November so I headed over early that morning to my families compound to start the celebration. The first thing I was greeted with as I walked in the door, besides an attack of love from my little sisters and cousins, was the view of one of my family’s rams being slaughtered in our courtyard. I had always been told that it is forbidden for women to see the killing of animals and that especially in these instances, where there is a religious context, it is absolutely not allowed. But, those rules either don’t apply in my family or don’t apply to Tabaski because I got to see the whole thing. I unfortunately arrived a little late and did not get to witness the initial killing of the ram but I must admit I don’t know if I would have had enough courage to sit through that part. I did make it in time for everything else though. From skinning to cutting it open to removing all of the insides to emptying the intestines and bladder to cutting up all of the big pieces into small pieces, I got to see everything… and take pictures! The guys in my family LOVED that I wanted to take pictures so not only did I get to document the process, I earned brown points. I am sure witnessing the slaughter of an animal is not that unique of an experience for some people but it was a first for me and I am proud that I didn’t squirm or chicken out of watching it because overall, it wasn’t that bad. I think within this context and how the family went about the entire process, really helped me as I witnessed my first animal death and dismemberment. Plus, my six and twelve year old little sisters were with me and they were totally fine with it... and I didn’t want to look like a huge baby all by myself, so I sucked it up. Funny side note, they moved the second ram (to be killed on the third day of the party) to the other side of the compound so it couldn’t see anything in the courtyard and thus, couldn’t witness the death of its buddy. They said that it was cruel to make it witness the death of its friend and I thought that was thoughtful and kind… I don’t know if I would have thought through it like that before I killed the ram but then again, I wouldn’t kill a ram.
After everyone cleaned up, I rode around with my host brother running errands. We dropped off a leg of the ram (which I got to carry) to other family members across town and picked up a head and some legs of a ram (which I ALSO got to carry) from my brother’s boss. We had to take it to a place on the side of a street to get ‘prepared’ or burned to a crisp until all of the hair had fallen off. They then return the head and feet to the family so they can prepare it… to eat. We then rode around meeting a bunch of his friends and visiting different families to send them prayers and well wishes for the holiday.
The overall purpose of the celebration, other than its religious context, is to eat. They spend all day preparing and eating food, in abundance. Similar to the last holiday, they like different parts of the animal then we do in the West so once again, being the pushover I tend to be here, I got to eat many ‘different’ things including… heart (everyone’s favorite organ!), lung, stomach, and intestine. Luckily for me, my French has improved and I can now identify what I am eating BEFORE I put it in my mouth thanks to the gift of language and thorough interegation. My family also surprised me with a gift for the fete! They gave me a dress and some jewelry which is a huge honor and really touched my heart. My host mom was so excited to give it to me and so I immediately changed to sport the dress and all of the new jewelry… everyone was beyond thrilled. After a day full of witnessing, observing, participating, playing, eating, errand-running and communicating in two languages other than English, I was exhausted but filled to the brim with the knowledge that it was a day well spent. I loved Tabaski and getting to experience the two holidays with my family, one at the beginning of my stay and this one at the end. The two parties helped to show me how much I have developed within my host family. Comparing my participation, the role I played, and overall interactions with my family from each holiday shows me how much I have changed and grown within the culture and host family which is crazy to think about. All-in-all, Tabaski was awesome and I hope the pictures on facebook help you visualize my experiences of the day a little better.


I’ll see everyone soon… love and miss you all!
Love. Sarah

Questions...

Here tilenna??

One of my big brothers (Adam) sent me a list of questions pertaining to Mali and my stay here this semester. I thought the questions were very interesting and thus have decided to post the questions and my answers as my next blog entry. Yes, I realize this is not an update about my life but I think the questions serve a great purpose… some basic background information about Mali which I am sure all of you will love to learn about.


QUESTIONS:

Many of these questions were answered with what I think based off of my cultural observations and immersion and not directly based in fact. I think that will be made somewhat obvious though due to the qualitative (instead of quantitative) nature of the questions. For all questions I could base in hard fact and figures, or someone else’s expert opinion instead of my own layman opinion, I have done so.

1. What is the poverty level of Mali compared to the other countries in Africa?

Poverty levels are a next-to-impossible statistic to figure out. Most ‘poverty level’ statistics are based on annual GDPs which really tell you nothing about the level of poverty within that country but are instead based on wealth generation and import/exports (both things are almost impossible to calculate in the third world and even when they are calculated correctly, they don’t reflect how ‘poor’ the population is). Also, because there is an inability to define or create a universal standard to equate ‘quality of life’, there isn’t a way to measure it in terms of that either. With that said… on most lists, Mali typically ranks around 5th but depending on how it is calculated, I have seen it rank as low as 10th and as high as 3rd.

2. Is Mali considered a developing country?

All countries not in the realm of the ‘first world’ are considered developing unless they are considered a failed state by the UN Index of Failed States. There are very few of those so yes, to answer the question, Mali would be considered a developing country.

3. How has France influenced Mali socially and economically?

Every social and economic aspect, in the grand scheme of Mali, has been impacted by French colonialism. Literally every single thing in Mali is touched by some aspect of colonialism and without proper documentation pre-colonialism to document its culture in detail, much of the indigenous aspects of Mali are quickly slipping away into a place where they can never be retrieved. Haha… I can’t answer this question properly and in good conscious without going into extensive detail and research so, I am choosing to not really answer it. There is TONS of literature on this topic specifically and generally AND every paper I have ever written on the topic of Africa touches on this subject in general so if you are dying for some extracurricular reading… I’ve solved your problem.

4. Is Islam the major religion in the country?

Yes, over 90% of the population practices Islam and considers themselves to be Muslim. But, it has a much different feel than other countries (in the Middle East for example) that are more conservative about their approach to religion. They are not as culturally strict with observing the details of the religion or dress. Malians, like much of the rest of West Africa, still hold some native beliefs as religious beliefs and they are collectively EXTREMELY superstitious— as in, they still believe in magic and witchcraft.

5. What is the dynamic between French Catholicism and Malian Islamic beliefs?

French Catholicism is basically non-existent here. The country was Islamic before it was French and although the French were notorious for converting their colonies into fake-Frenchman (or second class citizens that were told with enough refinement they could someday potentially become ‘French’) that didn’t really happen in Mali. The French only wanted this area to exploit it and didn’t really care about their religion.

6. What are the main exports of Mali?

Mainly cotton and rice… and I read gold and livestock. But, I don’t believe the gold statistic. It is notorious when you buy jewelry here that it isn’t going to be real gold and it is supposedly rare here so I think the source I read ‘gold’ at was lying.

7. What are the main imports of Mali?

Petroleum, machinery and equipment, construction materials, foodstuffs, textiles… is what I found online but once again, I don’t know how true it is. I would say construction materials is a lie… they make tons of bricks and even in the rural areas have an abundance of cement. They also use a dirt mixture to make their building structures so this seems unlikely. As for textiles… that is what Mali is known for so I DOUBT that is one of their main imports… but that is just my opinion.

8. Are there any American customs that are offensive to the people of Mali?

That is a tough one because they LOVE America. It is also tough because as an American you can get away with practically anything so really there is nothing you could do to ‘offend’ them. Also, they think anyone from the West is SUPER weird so if you did something they didn’t agree with or that they thought was really weird they wouldn’t get mad, they would just assume that you are doing it because you are from the West. But to kind of give you an answer, there are some things about our personalities and daily activities that are outrageous to them… for instance, the female chest is seen by Americans as upper thighs are seen by Malians. Meaning, the way the female chest is sexualized and viewed in the US is the same way men view upper thighs here. So, if a girl was to walk around in shorts, etc in the day time it would be considered pretty scandalous. Also, they are HUGE about salutations so if you don’t greet everyone every time you walk into the room that is bad (and there is a certain way to greet people which I can explain when I get home and if you don’t follow it, that’s not good either). Having dirty feet and dirty hands is also seen as really bad here—because they are Muslim and thus wash with water five times a day before prayer, there extremities are very clean. And, because most westerns aren’t used to the dirt, and because it shows up on our skin better, AND because after being here a week or two you get sick of continually scrubbing yourself just to go back outside to get dirty again… they think we are kind of dirty. Also, they use a kettle to wash after going to the bathroom instead of toilet paper. They think that water is the cleanest source and that you are not clean if you only use paper. Thus, if you don’t take the kettle into the restroom with you OR they see you with toilet paper, they think you are not only weird, but gross too. The last big difference or thing that would be considered rude would be the way they treat family versus the way we treat family. Here, if a family member comes to visit you, you aren’t allowed to ask them to leave and if you do that is REALLLLLLLY rude. In addition, family members are typically dependent on each other-- a lot of times one or two siblings will make a majority of the money and the rest of the family will just mooch off of them. Because we would not treat them like that, they would think we are rude and it would be seen as offensive to them.

9. How has pollution or environmental change affected Mali?

Basically the same way it affects all developing countries. Environmental concerns are a luxury allotted to countries that have nothing better to do with their time but worry about the environment. Because it is not an immediate threat (unlike all of the other things Mali has to worry about—disease, hunger, desertification, etc), the environment sits on the back burner and is rarely, if ever, talked about. The industrial sector here produces enough smog to cause the snot in my nose to turn black when I blow it and covers the city in a foggy black smog. Because of a lack of concern and knowledge about vehicles, they are a terrible pollutant. All the cars here are older, not well maintenance, and don’t run properly. Huge diesel trucks emit black fumes that look to be almost solid because they aren’t translucent. Although the cities are terrible, the rest of the underdeveloped countryside is obviously untouched and incredibly beautiful and clear.

10. What is Mali's governmental structure?

It is a parliamentary democracy mocked after the French system with a President and Prime Minister.

11. Does France control or influence Mali's government?

No, it does not ‘control’ it but it obviously heavily influences it. The structure is definitely based in French ideals but individual elections are not controlled by France.

12. Does France provide any health care or aid to Mali?

Other than its logistical infrastructure, France does not provide any health care in the nationalist sense of the word. France and other countries (especially the US) create health organizations most typically through NGOs (Non-governmental organizations) and non-profit organizations. Some governmental programs do exist but I don’t know the specifics on them in connection to France. Because of my program, we typically focus on the how the US effects Mali and the aid it gives through governmental actions and NGOs. Because Mali is so poor and lacking basic infrastructure and access to health care, there is a TON of aid flooding to Mali and TONS of NGOs present.

13. How would you describe the "mood" of the Malian people? Does this change from town to town? Does income level make a difference?

Malian people are the happiest group of people I have ever personally met. No matter the income level (although, typically the lower the happier) almost the entire population is high on life. No, it doesn’t change from town to town except for the further north you go the more conservative the cities become and with that comes less of a display of outward happiness but I don’t think that it necessarily means they are any less happy. Malians dance every where they walk and it’s rare to catch anyone in silence… they are either singing, laughing, or yelling at each other (instead of talking, they yell—not in an angry way but they just talk really loud and aggressively). Because of the Islamic influence, the people are very friendly and helpful as well. There are very few crimes committed here and most people you met are genuinely well natured and eager to help you. Also, the people here just love life. They love the work they do, their huge crazy loud families, the food they eat, and the floor they sleep on. Unlike in the US where something ‘better’ is always hanging in front of our faces, they don’t have that here. They don’t have VH1’s ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous’ and other pop culture, advertisements, etc examples thrust in front of their face to ever make them question what they have. They have no reason to think that what they have isn’t the very best out there and because they never contemplate the lack of ‘greatness’ or ‘wealth’ in their lives, they live contently with it.

14. What is the greatest cause of death in Mali?

Malaria is by far the greatest cause of death and is then followed by malnutrition. The two typically go hand in hand as well. Due to the inability for poorer families to access health care, malnourished children are typically the first to die if struck by a case of malaria because of their body’s inability to fight off the disease.

15. What do the people of Mali think of President Obama?

THEY FREAKING LOVE HIM! Everyone knows tons about him… and when I say everyone, I mean EVERYONE… from the uneducated, illiterate elderly man selling peanuts on the side of the road to my 6 year old little sister. When Obama won, yes, I obviously understood the importance and significance but from my frame of reference I never really thought about his race. I was so excited about his more liberal and radical approach to government that all I could ever see were his politics. Obama represents so much hope to so many people internationally, it’s incredible. To look at it from their view, the most powerful, prosperous country in the world has put a man of color (representational of oppression, etc) in power and in charge. It’s inspirational to young generations of Africans and shows that education can take you places. It gives them an ‘in your face’ kind of idol that inspires them to push themselves. They absolutely adore him, to say the least and his face is on fabric, Sitramas (the public transportation), coiffures (hair places), semi-trucks, belts, watches, posters, t-shirts, restaurants, cars… you name it, and his face is on it.

16. What do the people of Mali think of America?

First and foremost, they love us because we aren’t France. Because the US was ‘anti-colonialism’ when all of the other empires were still holding on to their colonies, they see us as more of a friend and partner than an oppressor. Also, an interesting side story… a tour guide once explained to us that during World War II the French enlisted tons of Malian soldiers to fight shortly after they had entered into the war. Because the French fell so quickly to the Nazi regime, all of the Malian soldiers were sent to concentration camps. They see the US as the power that stepped in and defeated the Nazis and thus freed their countrymen. Lastly, they see the US as the land of opportunity, wealth, and good looks. Their typical image of what the US is like is through entertainment so they see people like Beyonce and Lil’ Wayne and think that if they could get to the US, their lives would emulate those African-Americans.

17. What do the people of Mali think about America having enslaved Africans in the past?

Many different ethnic groups throughout Africa enslaved each other so they don’t look at slavery through the isolated lens that we, as Americans, do. Instead of looking at the enslavement of Africans in the past as ‘the US had slaves’, I would say they approach the topic from the angle of ‘look at what the Africans did in their country… gained freedom, became equals… the US is the land of equality and freedom based on the fact that even the people they tried to oppress ended up free.’ They understand that there WAS oppression but they think that it no longer exists and that racism is no longer found in the United States—sometimes it gets a little difficult to try and explain through a language barrier that the US isn’t perfect either because most people don’t believe it.

18. What is the average diet of the Malian people?

Rice and oil. Rice is inexpensive so they eat it at EVERY meal. Everything they make is typically all based in oil. The reason for this is, oil is filling and it allows food to go farther. They can take a sauce that would have maybe fed 5 people and double its amount by adding that much oil to the mix. The types of sauces include oil mixed with spices, okra, peanuts or some gross thing that is black. There are other things too but those sauces are the staples. Another main staple is called To, which is pounded millet. It is similar to a gray Play-to/ goo like substance that is eaten with either a brown sauce, red sauce, or lime green alien slug sauce (as I like to refer to is as). They also cook potatoes and a sweet potato like vegetable. They don’t typically eat much meat unless they are wealthy and even then the quality is very low. They eat fish and have an abundance of eggs but even those aren’t eaten unless the family is financially well off. They don’t eat very many vegetables and most Malian’s don’t really care for fruit although it is everywhere. As American students, we don’t have the financial constraints experienced by most Malians and so we are able to take advantage of the extremely low prices and eat more produce typically consisting of tomatoes, cucumbers, oranges, bananas, pineapples, apples, sou-sou (it’s an AWESOME fruit here), watermelon, and corn but that is about it for fresh produce. Lastly, they coat almost everything in a bouillon substance called Maggi—which is basically powdered or liquefied MSG.

19. Is there a strong or weak military/police presence?

Okay this is a multi-layered question so let me first start with the military… there is not a strong military presence in Mali. Although you see soldiers around and they are present in places like the airport, it is no different than the type of military presence we feel in the United States. As for the police, they are everywhere and the presence is especially strong at night. Although they are typically friendly when you ask for directions or need help, they love bribes and getting a little extra money on the side. There is a strange curfew-like setting once it get darks and everyone is required to carry valid identification on them in case you were to be stopped by the police. This has actually happened to me twice and both times I experienced a little ‘run-in’ with the law officials. The first time was on my birthday and I was in a taxi with three other friends. We were all on our way back home after going to the boites that night and our taxi got stopped at a ‘random’ search. The police officers asked to see our identification and my friend Kat and I didn’t have ours on us so the two boys we were with pulled the two officers aside and slipped them a bribe so we could be on our way. The second time was after another night of going out. I was once again in a taxi with three other people, but this time the other three were all girls. The police officers pulled the taxi over and all of us had our identification cards except one girl. The police tried to bully us and wanted to take the one girl, by herself, down to the police station. After some confident argumentation in French (not done by me, but my friend Hannah), the police let us go after a large bribe. To make a long story short… the police presence is heavy and although it can be helpful, it is also very corrupt and sometimes intimidating/ scary. I never instinctually feel safe when I see a police officer but instead wonder if he is going to use his position of power against me.

20. Are there any natural disasters that affect or threaten Mali?

Desertification but I don’t know if I would call that a ‘natural’ disaster. It happens from misuse and poor handling of the land through bad agricultural practices. In the rainy season, areas close to the Niger River flood and can cause damage but it is typically kept under control. During the spring, Mali experiences severe draught and unimaginably hot temperatures. Although I have obviously not experienced this, I have been told, and had it explained to me MANY times, that the heat in the spring is suffocating. I hear everything in Mali shuts down from 11AM to 3PM everyday because it is physically too hot to do anything.

21. What type of natural environment (mountains, desert, grassland) does Mali have?

The entire northern region is all deserts-- the Sahara desert, to be exact. But, the southern region is less desert-like. Although there is no grass, and instead all dirt and sand, the southern region has a lot of trees and shrubbery. Also, the Niger River runs through Mali and most of the country’s major cities take advantage of it because of their close proximity. There are some ‘mountainous’ dwellings but that is a bit overgenerous because the rock-structures aren’t quit big enough to be called mountains.

22. What has been your greatest challenge?

I would say I have three off the top of my head including: food, language, and witnessing sickness. First off, food… my body can’t properly digest the type of oil they use in abundance in all of their food. Thus, 45 minutes to an hour after every single meal for the entire semester I have been getting sick. The sickness typically only lasts about 30 to 45 minutes and never consists of me throwing up. To help, my family started fixing me separate meals and from time-to-time I would go have dinner at my friend Kat’s house because her family only ever fed her cucumbers and tomatoes. Secondly, language… the French language is hard enough but when you add in their weird thick accents, lack of acknowledgement to any grammatical rules, Bambara vocabulary, rapid speech patterns, and my inability to properly absorb language… it starts to really add up. The term ‘language barrier’ has never seemed so descriptive. I gave up on learning Bambara… it was too hard and confusing and I need to improve my French more than I need to learn a third language. Thirdly, witnessing sickness… it is a challenge to watch a little kid with grayish-yellow eyes rummage through piles of waste and debris without any pants or underwear on and snot dripping down their nose. It is a challenge to see a child covered in sores and bumps and bites running around completely naked for the whole world to observe its protruding malnourished little belly and improperly cut belly button. It is a challenge to walk through the SESComs (local area health care facility) and hospitals for an innumerable amount of reasons that even the best writer or storyteller could not recount and the best photographer could not capture. With kids in particular, but it is truly difficult across the board, it is a challenge to sit in the presences of such sickness. Especially when you bond with the child and ESPECIALLY when you know that most of their conditions are unnamed, untreated, and undiagnosed illnesses that will never be helped, cured, or even really acknowledged.


QUICK UPDATE

I have been living in Sanankoroba, a rural village outside of Bamako, for the last 10 days conducting research at the SOS Children’s Village here. For the field study research portion of my semester I have decided to take an intimate look at the organization and how it functions. The SOS Children’s Village is an organization that sets up uniquely structured homes for orphaned and abandoned children throughout the world. There are 450 worldwide, three of which are in Mali. I have been living with one of the families within the village observing their familial structure, attending kindergarten, primary, and secondary school, and holding interviews with anyone that will talk to me (including the headmasters, mothers, school children, teachers, and the main director of Sanankoroba’s SOS Village). So far, it has been awesome and my huge research paper is going really well! It is an incredible place to spend time and I feel truly blessed to get to conduct my research here. If anyone is curious about the international organization or wants to know more information about its branch in Sanankoroba, it is easy to Google.
That is it for now… next time I write I will try and give a little bit more insight into what I am actually up to on a day to day basis. Love and miss you all!!

Here doron!
Love.Sarah

the grand excursion

Hey Everyone--
HAPPY (belated) HALLOWEEN!!!!!!

GRAND EXCURSION
So, I am back from the trip with my class that was appropriately entitled the ‘Grand Excursion’. We spent 10 days traveling around different regions of Mali, taking tours and enjoying what the different cities had to offer. In order to make this as organized as possible, I will write the name of the city, and the dates we slept in each place with a description of what we did or saw there.

Segou (October 28 and 29)
After a 5 hour bus/ van ride from Bamako to Segou, we were treated to a great lunch at our hotel. Whenever we travel as a large group, our professors always have us sleep in pretty nice places that have restaurants attached. By western standards, the hotels are comparable to maybe a Motel 8 but by Malian standards… the hotels seem like palaces. We spent the first day in Segou observing the river and visiting a huge dam. The riverside observations were somewhat interesting… we saw women washing clothes and dishes, men washing sheep, boats being made, children swimming, and people bathing. Although the river looks semi-toxic, no one really seems to have a big issue using it. Like I have said before, the Niger River is both a blessing and a curse. The dam was actually incredible. Not only was it huge but the amount of activity taking place all around us was astounding. There were so many people doing so many things, no one really even had an opportunity to stare at our huge group of white tourists and bombard us with questions of gifts and money. Also, when we crossed over the dam there were huge stampedes of cattle crossing at the same time from the opposite direction. All of us had to squish onto the narrow sidewalks and press our bodies against the railings as to make sure we wouldn’t get trampled. Because the cattle/ bulls are very unique here… SO huge with big horns and strange humps on their backs… and because they were SO close… we had little to no choice but to reach out our hands and cop a little feel. Now, I must admit, I almost chickened out but after a little pep talk, I took a deep breath, waited for the biggest bull to pass, and reached my hand out and grazed its side. It was awesome… to say the least. After that little adventure, we returned to the hotel to find that… there was a POOL there! Obviously we spent the rest of the night soaking in the water and I thought I had just had one of my best days yet, but little did I know, Grand Excursion had really only just started.
The next day we visited two women’s groups — the first of which uses scraps of fabric to produce large paignes (floor length fabric that makes skirts) and bags. The second organization we visited trains women to make large woven rugs. Both organizations bring in untrained and uneducated women who are looking for a brighter future, train them in a skill or craft, and then employ them. Although the organizations make little to no profit, making it difficult for them to bring in more women and continue to function, they seem to be doing well enough for themselves to at least help a handful of women support themselves. Organizations like this are also helpful in promoting women’s rights in the society and exposing the needs of women and their children. These organizations typically act as the voice of women and are empowering for they are created and run by women, for the good of women. Later that afternoon, we visited the tomb of Biton Mamary Coulibaly, also known as the founder of the city of Segou and took a tour of the rural village 30 minutes away from town. Here, we were mobbed by children who after two months have started to lose their charm and become more of a health hazard than feeling of joy. It is difficult to know that a child has only ever seldom washed their hands in dirty, bacteria infested river water. They then play in waste that the city has been accumulating as well as with dirty animals and have no conscious understanding that they are touching and walking through feces. They use their hands to scratch sores, clean their skin of puss, and wipe their bums after they use the restroom. Then, after all of that, they want to hold your hand while shouting “Cadeaux! Toobaboo! Cadeaux! Toobaboo!” which translates into them begging you for presents or basically anything you have in your hands at that moment… water battle, pen, camera, sunglasses… you name it, they want it. We proceeded to spend the rest of the day lounging pool side after lunch which we all needed. It was a perfect way to start our trip and energized us enough to enjoy the rest of our long journey.

Djenne (October 30 and 31)
We left Segou early on the morning of the 30th and took the 5 hour trip to Djenne. The journey was pretty easy and we even got to take a ferry across to the other side of the Niger River, where Djenne is located. The ferry ride was fun except for when we were unloading… I wasn’t paying attention and I almost got run over by our van that was unloading. Alou Balou (our driver) wasn’t paying very close attention and almost crushed me. Bright side? Alou Balou proceeded to treat me like a princess for the next 8 days and I got to keep all of my limbs! Win, win situation.
All together, Segou looked and felt very similar to Bamako. Very little of the climate or scenery had changed between the two cities. Djenne, on the other hand, was extremely different. Not only did the entire town have a more laid back, calm, and conservative Islamic feel, complete with Moroccan architecture and Mali’s most famous Mosque, but everything was sand and dirt-- there was little to no greenery. All buildings were made of a mud/clay mixture; the ground was also only dirt and sand. Overall, the temperature was cooler as well and on Halloween, it even rained. In Bamako, the rainy season is over and although it has gotten cooler (low to mid 90 degrees), it is still rather hot. The only down side to the cooling rain we experienced in Djenne was that rain and dirt do not mix well… especially dirt buildings and rain. One night I was walking in the rain from one side of our hotel to the other and because it was slippery, I tried to use one of the walls as a base for my own personal catapult. Instead of hurling myself forward, like I had intended to do, I simply broke off a large chunk from the wall. Although the hotel was not angry with me (their hotel is made out of dirt and it was raining, what can you really expect?!?) they were not overly pleased with my display of sloppy behavior.
For our first day in Djenne, we took a walking tour around the city to see the famous Mosque, study the architecture, see a tomb of a girl that had been ‘sacrificed’, visit a museum, and learn about their waste/sewage system. The mosque was great from the outside but unfortunately, we were not allowed to go inside. Because a famous French photographer once used the inside of the mosque as the backdrop to a nude photo shoot, non-Muslims are no longer allowed inside which was obviously heartbreaking for everyone in my group. The Moroccan architecture was extremely beautiful and rich with Islamic meaning and tradition inlayed into almost every detail. Although the museum and tomb were somewhat boring, observing their sewage system was very interesting. Not only was it right in our faces as we walked throughout the city, the smell would have been enough of a lesson. The system they use is basically open canals that are not covered but instead flow openly throughout the city. Thus, as you walk through back streets, you literally walk next to them and over them in order to get from point A to point B. They then spew out into the Niger River in the same spots were everyone washes, fishes, plays, and drinks. It is alarming, smelly, disheartening, and overwhelming all at the same time.
The second day was Halloween and it started with an awesome adventure. My entire class piled into three tiny boats and traveled directly on the Niger River for our first time yet. Now, traveling on a boat in a river doesn’t sound that invigorating but let me paint a little picture for you—the boats were TINY and because we are Americans, we are BIG. Also, the boats are Malian made (aka. pretty poorly made) and we were traveling in the Niger River… you know, the one thing the SIT program told us over and over again NEVER to touch. So here we are, cramped two-by-two into these small boats that are sinking lower and lower with each person that is added to the boat. Because one of the boats (this one happens to be the one I am in) is sinking too low into the water, some of the kids have to move from one boat to another. Thus, they straddled between two boats over the river while inevitably shaking both boats back and forth-- scary. As we proceed to travel in the boats, they started to fill with water and every time anyone leaned ever so slightly in any one direction, the boat tilted, everyone screamed with fear of the water touching them, and then we all got wet and silently prayed to not get any parasites. After traveling for about 15 beautiful minutes, we are dropped off onto an island and then escorted around the ancient archeological site that was discovered in the area years before. The walk around was super hot and the ground was covered in thorns that got stuck in the bottom of our flip-flops causing a lot of pain. After about three hours of that, we were ready to board the boats back to the main land. We spent the rest of the day indoors due to the massive amount of rain we encountered but didn’t let any of that stop us from celebrating everyone’s favorite holiday—HALLOWEEN! Every single person in my class came prepared with a costume. We were very well represented with a fisherman, Indian princess, gypsy, octopus, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, bumblebee, Africa Siamese-twins, Superman (me), and much more! You can take kids out of America, but you can’t take America out of the kids. We celebrated in style, keeping the entire hotel up most of the night in true ‘20-something year old, rowdy American kid’ style. It was fun, refreshing, and just the dose of home all of us needed.

Sangha/ Dogon Country (November 1 and 2)
The next day we got up early and headed out on our 7+ hour journey to the Dogon Country. Dogon Country is THE bomb.com to say the least. Not only was this hands down my favorite part of the country due to its scenery, hospitality, and incredible weather but we did the best activities on our two day visit.
The first day was very leisurely. Because we had such a long journey in the van and because I was recovering from a bit of car sickness, I opted to nap for a while and then do a little private tour of the city of Sangha. My class did nothing together this day but instead had free time to chill out, relax, regroup and prepare ourselves for the huge hike we were preparing to take the very next morning.
To preface this hike (the fourth this semester) I should begin by saying on our very first day of class way back in August, our professors forewarned us about this hike. They told us it is the single most challenging bit of physical exercise we will endure all semester. We even heard tales of small children who run alongside you saying they will carry your bags for you because students typically look like they are going to pass out from sheer exhaustion. Needless to say, my athletic-lacking little butt was worried and nervous. I obviously thought I would hate it but went into it with a positive attitude telling myself that if two of my 60 year old professors could do it, so could I! Little did I know but I was about to have the best experience of my entire life. We climbed up and down huge sections of rocks, around waterfalls, through dusty villages, alongside cliff dwellings, and across countryside. The weather? Perfection. The scenery? Perfection. The company? Perfection. The level of challenge? Perfection. I have never completed something and felt so healthy, alive, accomplished, and proud all while in the midst of beauty that can never be put into words or captured in a picture. I think I can officially say that I have transformed from a Johnson County princess to a hike-loving, semi outdoor-enthusiast. For further visual explanation, please see facebook and the pictures labeled ‘dogon country…’. After our 5 hour morning hike, we went back to the hotel, showered, ate lunch, regrouped, took our laundry down to be washed, and headed out again for some traditional dancing. We got to see Dogon men, dressed in traditional and ceremonial clothing, perform a tribal mask dance. Not only was the rhythmic drumming and singing enchanting but the combination of their costumes, masks, and dance moves were hypnotizing. They had several animals and Gods represented, as well as men on stilts. The choreographed movement and dancing was systematic, well-planned and practiced, yet very spontaneous and natural. After the dancing, and a bit of relaxing free time, we had dinner and then all crowded onto the roof to set up camp for the night. Although we all had our own rooms in the hotel that consisted of a single mattress in the middle of a concrete room with no other bare essentials, we opted to all sleep outside on our mattresses for the night. Due to the incredibly cool temperature and lack of mosquitoes in the air, it was the perfect ending to a perfect day. Lying out under a complete blanket of stars, breathing in the freshest air on earth, surrounded by my classmates, after an exhausting and rewarding day of hiking and cultural activities is absolutely the best ending to any day I have yet to live. And, to add a cherry to the sundae of my day, I woke up the next morning shivering cold (the first time I have been ‘cool’ all semester) to a sunrise that was too precious to even try and capture in a photograph—I have decided that some things and moments are too beautiful to be ruined with a photo but instead must be absorbed whole heartedly in that moment with every ounce of your energy—breathing, feeling, and experiencing the moment of beauty for the enjoyment of only yourself and claiming a moment of selfishness knowing that you, and only you, have the ability to recall the exact feeling and image of that moment. It’s soul cleansing, to give it a technical term, and that can never be put into a piece of technology but instead, can only be lived and experienced organically.

Mopti (November 3 and 4)
Mopti was a drastic change of pace from Dogon Country and snapped us back to reality. With its hustle and bustle, market scene, crowded streets, and location to the water (and thus, tons of boats, people and activity) we found ourselves all too quickly back in the real world. Our first activity after the 4 hour drive into town was to scramble onto a huge boat and take a tour of the city from the water. The big boat, or perog, was very comfortable and a very thought-through way of looking at the city. We were able to get to the island outskirts of the city and see more rural dwellings as well as observe the role the river plays in this particular area. After a bit of shopping and two stressful meals (Malians trying to feed a group of 20+ is a joke and requires the patience of a young grasshopper) we were all exhausted and turned in early for the night.
On the second day, we found ourselves on a ground tour of the city exploring the market, boat ‘factory’ (I use the term ‘factory’ affectionately and not accurately), mosque, and artisana (or shopping market). I bargained my way through the city buying souvenirs with a few friends and finally made it back to the hotel in time to take advantage of the wireless internet our room received thanks to its close proximity to the hotel lobby (shout out to room number 1 and, Kat and I’s ability to continually pick the BEST room in every single hotel in which we stayed).

Segou (November 5)
For our last night, we returned to Segou. Because the drive from Mopti to Bamako is a total of 12.5 hours, our class stopped back in Segou to enjoy another night in our favorite pool-inclusive hotel. After the 7.5 hour car ride, the first thing most of did was shed our clothes and jump right into the pool. There is nothing more relaxing than lying out by the pool, in sunshine, with your laptop and wireless internet after a long 10 days worth of traveling. The next afternoon we returned to Bamako and life got back to normal…


REALITY
On Friday November 5th, after returning from the Grand Excursion, I moved into a new house! For the next, and last month of my trip, everyone conducts a research project. Thus far, all of us have spent a majority of the semester gathering background research and making contacts so that for the next month we continue to research and write our huge fieldwork research paper. Instead of spending the next month with my host family, a few friends and I decided to rent a house in downtown Bamako. Although I will be spending a majority of the month in a small village outside of the city at an orphanage, whenever I am in the city, I will be living at this new address. To summarize the house we rented let me say this… it is AWESOME! Kat, Luke, Sam, and I (the housemates) each get our own bedroom as well as an indoor kitchen, bathrooms with hot water showers from a shower head, two family rooms, an entry/ dining room, semi-air conditioning and a houseboy named Benoit. Although it is a little dirty, I am getting great practice in the realm of ‘domestic-goddess’ training by playing an active role in our little pretend family and learning to clean AND cook—it’s shocking, I know.
I leave this Tuesday for the SOS Village, or orphanage, where I will be conducting my research and I couldn’t be more excited. I plan to hop back and forth between Sanakoroba and Bamako for the next month working hard to crank out my first piece of real fieldwork research. I promise not to wait almost three weeks to post another blog—time flies when you’re busy.
As for my last update,
I think most everyone knows but I have decided not to go to Cameroon next semester. Instead, I switched programs and will be traveling to Fiji to gain a new and exciting perspective of a culture located literally on the polar opposite side of the globe. I am so excited and already looking forward to my next big adventure. The one month countdown has started… I will rapidly go from the weather of summer to winter, I don’t know how my body will handle it but luckily I get to quickly return to paradise-like settings for the spring.

Love and miss you all!
Love, Sarah

Copine versus Copain...

Hey all!

So, the last week has been somewhat uneventful as far as school and family life goes but I have been able to enjoy some other cool activities with my friends.

Last Tuesday and Wednesday nights, I joined my friends’ tea circle with their friends from the neighborhood. Their friends are a group of young, male African best friends who have been partaking in the tea circle since they were old enough to be permitted to do so. Two of my friends have brothers in the circle and a girl in my group is dating one of the group members so obviously the three of my friends were welcomed into the group with open arms. One of my friends invited me to join the circle to enjoy some of Mali’s infamous shots of tea and although I had no direct connection to any African in the group, God blessed me with uniquely voluptuous hair that Africans love… lucky for me! Even though I have been to tea circles before and enjoyed the ritual that takes place when drinking their three strong shots of tea, my family does not participate in tea making. Thus, I do not enjoy it on a regular basis at my house and saw the opportunity to hang out in their circle as a great opportunity. Because Momma Tante (my host mom) believes in locking our house door early on school nights, I was only able to stay and hang out in the circle until a little after 10pm. Yes, I found this very annoying but no, I did not want to call and wake her up to reopen the door for me so I only made it through one round of tea before I had to hurry home. I found it sad that I was unable to make it to the last, and by the far best tasting, shot of tea but having the opportunity to observe this group of best friends, or band of brothers, was an experience in and of itself. It reminded me of home… and was refreshing and touching to see that cross-culturally, boys will be boys and the bond that develops between them over time spans seas, cultures, and standards of living. To explain a little further the Malian process of tea making, let me start with the supplies they use… they have two small tea pots (always royal blue in color for some reason), a cone shaped bowl for the coals, and a platter of small shots glasses. (Please see facebook for photos) They heat an even ratio of water and sugar in the little tea pots and add the right amount of very strong (usually Chinese or Arabic) tea. After the tea has come to a boil, they aerate the tea by pouring it into the shot glasses from a very high distance in the air and then pouring the shots back into the tea pot. They repeat this process over and over again, then reheat the tea and repeat the entire process several more times. Although there is obviously some art form to the creation of a perfect shot of tea, it is completely lost on me. Eventually, the tea has aerated and heated for a long enough time that they begin pouring out small shots that you drink by slurping VERY loudly. In fact, the louder, the better. This entire process is repeated two more times but each time the tea gets effectively less strong and thus much better tasting. When I first got to Mali, taking the shots of tea was a chore. I did it grudgingly because it is an honor to be offered tea and irrationally rude to refuse it but now I find that I actually enjoy the tea very much and look forward to any tea circle in which I am able to participate.

I have been up to some other cool stuff including (but not limited to, of course!): going to a traditional African wedding, going out to see live music, doing a project on ‘restaurants’ in Bamako (leading me to eat at a sketchy Senegalese hole-in-the-wall and from street vendors), tie and dying fabric (two little sisters might be getting a pretty cool gift…), and going to my main professors house for an awesome lunch with my class. I also had the pleasure this week of eating day old sheep brains for breakfast served in a sauce that tasted like vomit… although this did not seem like a high point when one of the servants brought it to me, I was able to turn ‘terrible’ into ‘fantastic’. I ate alone, allowing me to only eat the bread with which they served the brains. Then, I tactfully carried my own dishes out back to the kitchen area handing the bowl off to one of the servants. I then explained to them that I was full and if they wanted them, the brains were ALL theirs. Sheep brains are a delicacy here so imagine my two servants’ shock when I presented them with this ‘treat’. Not only did I avoid eating sheep brains and give my two servants a nutritious treat, I fell into their good graces… they washed all of my clothes FIRST and then folded them and laid them into neat organized piles onto my bed. Now that is what I call a win, win, win situation!

Okay, funny story time. Disclaimer, neither of these stories are about me but two of my classmates instead… I prefer not to publically humiliate myself TOO often but they don’t have a choice because it is my blog, so enjoy!

1. (**For purpose of telling this story I will refer to my friend as ‘guy friend’ and the other guy as ‘the kid’. Also, the entire language portion of this story obviously originally happened in French) After lunch at my professor Modibo’s house on Saturday afternoon, most of my class had left the party but one of my friends had stayed behind. He was sitting and talking to some kid who then asked him to go upstairs to the roof. Because my class had ventured up to the roof earlier that afternoon (the view was incredible), guy friend didn’t think anything strange of it and followed the kid upstairs to continue the conversation. When it was just the two of them alone on the roof, the kid proceeded to compliment guy friend’s full belly and large patch of ‘manly’ chest hair. The kid then asked guy friend if he had a girlfriend to which my friend answered “no, but I used to.” Then, the kid used a word that guy friend didn’t know but through context clues and some explanation, guy friend realized the kid was asking to make-out with him. Now, guy friend is kind of freaking out at this point but because homosexuality is SO rare, hidden, and forbidden in Mali, guy friend thought the kid HAD to be joking. After adamantly saying “NO!” and gesturing through any language barrier, the kid reached his hand around the back of guy friend’s neck and pulled him in for a make-out session. My very straight guy friend quickly realized the situation was no joke. He rattled off as many French phrases he could think of as fast as he could and high tailed himself out of the situation… super confused and very narrowly missing a kiss from a Malian male. Life lesson learned… learn the slight difference between the words BOYfriend and GIRLfriend in French, one small letter can change SO much.
2. (**For purpose of telling this story I will refer to my friend as ‘girl friend’) This weekend girl friend wasn’t feeling very well so she decided to go for a run to de-tox her body. While on the run, her stomach kept progressively hurting more and more but because a random African man had joined her on her run, she didn’t want to stop. Eventually, the pains got so bad she knew she had to stop and go home so she could use the restroom. Unfortunately, she was still at least 15 minutes from home and walking with the “stage-5” African “clinger” when the pains kicked into high gear and moved from stomach pains to massive diarrhea. If it hadn’t been for the new friend she was making, she could have secretly squatted in a secluded spot to do her nasty business but he literally wouldn’t leave her side… leaving her no choice, because she couldn’t hold it in… she literally shit herself while walking home. After a while the man left, (she assumes because of the smell) but because she had already pooped so much in her shorts she figured she better go ahead and hurry home. The best part? She had to walk holding the bottom of her shorts tight to her legs for fear that the massive amount of runny poop would start running down her legs. Two life lessons were learned here… first, don’t go running when your stomach hurts and two, if you do go… run at night so no one can see the diarrhea run down your legs.


Lastly, I had been told that there were many strange spelling mistakes in my previous posts. For example, I continually spell the word ‘terrible’ incorrectly. Finding this strange because I do in fact know how to spell the word ‘terrible’, I looked up the settings on my Microsoft Word only to find that I changed most of my grammatical settings to ‘French’ instead of ‘English’. Because I go between the two languages when typing papers, etc., I must have changed some of the settings to help me when I was typing in ‘French’ and obviously forgot to change them back when I started typing in ‘English’. For those of you fearing the legitimacy of my college education let me reassure you that I do in fact know how to spell (although, truthfully not very well) and it is the ‘auto-correct’ function in Microsoft Word that changes the spelling of some of my words. Don’t let this little fun fact restore too much of your faith in me… I am not smart enough to figure out how to change it back so it might stay this way for a while. Sorry!

That is all the updates I have from last week. I can’t write everything on the blog or else I will have nothing left to share with everyone when I get back to the US! I can’t wait to get home and have lists full of questions waiting for me… I have an entire journal FULL of stories that didn’t make the blog that I will be dying to share. Life is still great and at this point I am about halfway through with this first semester abroad. Love and miss you all! Hopefully I will be able to post again before I leave for a 10 day excursion with my class next Wednesday. If not, look forward to an incredibly long post upon my return.

Love, Sarah

Civil War Camp Expose

Hey everyone!!!

Here is my take on the week I spent in rural Africa… it was quite an experience and this is the best way I can think of to relay it without an over amount of boring details. I am sure you’ll get the gist of the situation…

Survival guide for living in a rural African village:
-Pick an awesome classmate to share the week with… they need to come extremely prepared (boy scout style) and be willing to laugh as hard as you at every and any situation. Katarina now comes highly recommended with her Crystal Light packets, ability to speak French and Bamabara even when extremely tired, incredible dancing skills, and ability to memorize the names of ALL the kids in our compound (there were like 30… it was so hard).
-Theme the week ‘Civil War Camp’ and proceed to pretend you are at a ‘Civil War Camp’ the entire time you are in the village. This makes eating by kerosene lamp, sleeping on dirt floors, going to the bathroom and showering in the same spot outside, helping your coughing host dad, seeing tons of rats and huge spiders in your room, walking through landfill-style waste piles, sweating like deodorant was never invented, and walking everywhere (no matter how far away) tolerable and sometimes rather hilarious.
-Always check the outdoor bathroom/shower before entering it to shower or go to the bathroom because even if the door is open, it does NOT mean your host dad isn’t in there mid-diarrhea. This may seem like a simple lesson to learn but it will most likely take you multiple awkward run-ins before you are able to successfully avoid the situation.
-Take your outdoor bucket shower in a swimsuit and with a friend… this will allow you to laugh when you have to stand in pee, pee moss, and shards of glass, have your host brother secretly watch you, drop your soap and razor on the ground (aka. into someone else’s pee), freeze your bum off with ice cold water in the early, cold, windy morning, haul water from a pump not located at your compound, wash off the ‘pee rocks’ that jump onto your feet, and squat down to dunk your head into the bucket to get your hair wet (because you are getting so close to the ground/pee, and it smells SO much, it seems as though you are dunking your head directly into a used toilet).
-Don’t bring any academic materials… class for the week will only consist of tons of different tie dye lessons. You tie dye with wax, dye, mud, and screen prints. Also, learn to get patient because everything in Africa takes about 10 times longer… and when you add the rural component you are looking at simple tasks taking a few days.
-Appreciate the countryside for its differences from the city… a sky completely packed with stars, unbelievably clean air, the lack of noise, its calm and relaxed nature, and overall amped hospitality… if you thought the people of Bamako were nice, you haven’t been to the rural countryside.
-Learn and memorize the Bambara phrases for ‘no’ and ‘we aren’t taking pictures’. That way when all of the little kids mob you (remember, there is strength in numbers) you can successfully yell out these phrases and calm the frenzy.
-Carry your antibacterial hand sanitizer and wet wipes with you at all times—that way, when the little kids rummage through the landfill trash, wipe their bums, cough, and wipe away the runny snot from their nose with their always un-showered hand and then proceed to hold your hand and rub your arm… you can sleep a little easier knowing you at least tried to kill a little of the bacteria. There dirty hands may or may not be the reason your roommate’s hand swells up like a balloon... our theories cannot be proven, yet.
-End every night with a huge talent show with all of the kids in your compound. You’ll get to sing and dance to tons of traditional songs and learn fun games. Also, there is nothing a group of little African kids likes more than to see two silly American girls sing and dance to their own renditions of “Sugar, Sugar” by the Archies, “Proud Mary” by Tina Turner, “Build Me Up Buttercup” by the Foundations, the ‘Macarena’, and “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”. Throwing in a little 50 Cent, Akon, and Celion Dion can’t hurt either but, let’s be honest… no one likes a show off.
-Rural Africa= a dance Mecca. Don’t be shy or nervous… embrace the fact that you look like a fool and go dance your little bum off! Late night drum circles are a norm and you will be continually asked to dance in the middle of the circle, typically alone. Buck up soldier-- pop that booty and flail those arms like no one is watching. Luckily, they laugh with you… never at you.
-Invest in a headlamp… because when it gets dark in rural Africa, it gets pitch black and you don’t want to stumble and feel your way around your dark hut with your hands… feeling up a wall of spiders is NOT an ideal situation. Plus, it triples as a spotlight for the talent shows and light by which to brush your teeth, ‘antibacterial cloth’ clean your nasty feet, and inspect your bed for creatures.
-Huts are not leak proof. I don’t have any advice or survival tips for this little piece of information except to embrace the fact that you will sleep waist-deep in swamp like conditions during the rainy season. Between the heat and rain, it’s kind of like sleeping in a steam room… great at the spa, not so great in rural Africa.

While we were in the rural village, we visited a place called the SOS Village. It’s an orphanage in the city of Sanakoroba and is an international organization with multiple orphanages all over the world. This place is absolutely incredible in every sense of the word. If all kids could grow up in such incredible places the world would be a much better place. There are 15 compounds, or large housing units, that each has one mom and an aunt. Each compound has about 10 kids in it and they live like a real family. Their compounds are beautiful, clean, and well organized. We were able to tour it and then spend a little time in some of their classrooms, including their kindergarten and upper level English classes. All of the kids are so well taken care of and looked after—the entire system and how it functions is extremely inspirational and something to be admired and emulated. For this reason, I have decided to do my final research project here. As most of you know, the main academic portion of my semester is a huge research project I conduct independently on the topic of my choice. Everyone in my class spends the entire month of November and early parts of December researching and writing on our topic and because I have picked to do in depth research on the SOS Village, I will be able to live and volunteer there for a few weeks while I conduct my research. I am really looking forward to it and am excited to return to the SOS Village and the town of Sanakoroba (which is only 45 minutes outside of Bamako, so I won’t be too far from most of my other classmates!) later this semester.

If you can’t tell, I had a great time in the rural village and I think I can speak for my entire class when I say we all somewhat fell in love with Sanakoroba. Although it had its own set of unique challenges and some parts of the week definitely kicked our ass, we experienced an incredible amount of love and joy... probably more than most of us have experienced in any other single experience of our lives. Their generosity, kind hearts, helpful hands, patience, and overall love of life could be felt at every moment and it was plain to see some people can truly possess the secret to life.

IT’S OFFICIAL-- I AM 21 YEARS OLD!!! You should all be happy to know that I did the time conversion and figured out that since I was born at 9:01 PM in the US, I was technically not 21 until 2:01AM on the 11th of October, SO… yes, I celebrated for two days. It’s only natural. As if anyone was worried, I had an incredible birthday… I woke up that morning in the rural village to Kat, my roommate, singing a personalized version of “Happy Birthday” which she calls “You’re Old and Fat” (two HUGE compliments here). We opted out of the bucket shower but enjoyed breakfast with the rural host family… tea (aka hot water that tastes like dirt) and potato bread. Then, my class filed into our vans and headed back to the B-K-O (…Bamako). We had brunch at an Americanized restaurant, where I ate a hamburger and French fries (my love of ketchup is increasing, as if that’s even possible) for the first time in 1.5 months. After picking up two new skirts I had made from the tailor, I went back to my normal host family who greeted me with my birthday present… fresh and incredibly tasty watermelon. Kat and I then went to a hotel for the day where we had free, fast WIFI access to the internet (seems silly, but this alone made my day!). We swam that afternoon and then took our sweet time showering (not out of a bucket...) and getting ready for the night. We met up with more of our classmates and went out for drinks and dinner, then met up with even more classmates and boite-hopped the night away. We poured ourselves into bed around 4:30 AM… then woke up at 10AM to go layout by the pool. We swam and tanned until late afternoon, enjoyed an INCREDIBLE lunch at the hotel… by far the best food we have eaten in Mali and would rank as incredible even in the US. And then returned home to our families sunburned and satisfied. I’ve never gone to the pool to celebrate my birthday, let alone gotten sunburned… sweating through 100+ degree weather for my October birthday was unique in and of itself, but the entire day was an experience to remember and I feel extremely blessed to have had the opportunity to celebrate such a monumental birthday in such an incredible way. I say this every year but I think this time it’s going to ring true… this birthday will be impossible to top.

I am in my second to last week of classes before my entire class leaves for our Grand Excursion, or almost two weeks of traveling around the country together. Then, it’s off to doing research! I can’t believe my semester is almost halfway over… it doesn’t seem like I’ve been gone that long yet. Some of us have been thinking about our integration back into western society and all I have to say is this… the shower in the hotel we stayed at for my birthday proved to me that I will have NO problems reentering American society— all potential fear has subsided.

Pictures are on facebook…
It’s far easier that way. I can put up as many as I want and label them with descriptions. So, enjoy!
Miss and love you all!!! Thanks so much for the great birthday wishes and I can’t wait to be home and celebrate with all of you!


Love. Sarah

Pre-rural village stay...

THIS BLOG IS OFFICIALLY ONE WEEK BEHIND! SORRY!
IT TAKES PLACE FROM September 28- October 4
I wrote it the night of October 4th and am just putting it up now… Sorry about the confusion.

I promised that I would post before I left for the rural visit… it might be a while before my next post so stay patient with me!

Random side notes:
--When my entire class travels together, it is NOT in style. We have one super old school silver van with a driver, Kara. It is used for transporting roughly half of our group. On long road trips, we take the silver van and this other very large, rusty, and uncomfortable red van that plays only Bob Marley over a loud speaker. When we go on our after school fieldtrips, we take the silver van and a Sitrama. Now, if you are a regular reader of my blog you will have seen a photo of a Sitrama… it’s a large green van that has been completely gutted on the inside with a wooden plank bench bolted onto metal stands all around the circumference of the interior of the van, for comfort of course. Normally Sitramas are used as their main bus system but you can also just stop them on the street, pay a fee, kick everyone out who was riding in it and use it as an oversized taxi. This is how we travel… and in 100 degree weather, you do not want to get stuck in the Sitrama van, especially if our professors pulled one of the super-jankie Sitramas for us and the windows have been sealed shut. Most of the time both of the vans are over-crowded with people, especially when we take a good-ole’ Sitrama. Putting too many people in one vehicle is illegal here and because we are a traveling blob of white we are easy to see by the police, meaning we get pulled over somewhat frequently. But here is the kicker, in a third world country… nothing is actually illegal and with the right amount of money, all sins are forgiven.
--Family update: I am really fortunate to have a host family that understands my independent nature and allows me to come and go as I please while still letting me enjoy their company while I am home. Although I am not nearly as close to my host family as some of the other kids on my program, there is something addicting in the hugs of a 6 year old that makes your heart melt. As for a few updates, all of the kids in my family started school on the 1st of October… their summer is officially over. It was awesome to come home on the last day of September and find all of them lying around in the middle of the courtyard with my host mom labeling all of their school supplies the EXACT same way I did when I was young! I then had the pleasure of sitting for TWO hours with them while they went through each of their new items for school and organized (and then reorganized) the supplies for the next day. We also had to have a school supply photo shoot, obvi-- and those pictures are soon to come. Also, my 12 year old sister was on TV! There is a really popular television show here, it’s called Ministar, and is pretty much Mali’s version of American Idol but with young kids. The competition has been going on for a while now… I think all summer. Anyway, the taping of the show is in downtown Bamako so it’s a popular past time for wealthier kids to go and watch the filming of the show… but, because this is Africa and dancing is just what they do, you can also compete to be one of the dancers for the show and who got to go on stage and dance for the semi-final and final shows?? MY 12 YEAR OLD HOST SISTER! She danced her little heart out and made the show with her friend! It was so cool to not only see her on stage but then to sit at home and watch her on TV with her cuddled up next to me. Lastly, because my family watches me write my blog and they know they are being talked about, they think it’s only appropriate to send a message of salutation and a prayer your direction… “I ni ce e here doron” from our family to yours!


Daily Grind:
--Monday
My class traveled, silver van and Sitrama style, to ‘centre ville’, also known as downtown Bamako for a trip to one of the large fabric shops. Fabric is a BFD, or politely put… really important, in Mali. The method of creating the fabric is an intricate process that produces nothing less than art. Putting on clothes here is not for the purpose of covering up ones skin because the truth is Malians are the least body-modest society of people I have heard of or personally witnessed. They put on clothes because the craft in which their clothes were made is so exquisite. Some of my friends’ host families actually create fabric for fun as a side business but how it is fun, I have no idea. It is an extremely grueling process of ‘tie and dye’ where you move and fold the fabric in complicated ways. They don’t use very much cotton here either, their cloth is mostly a slick, somewhat plastic like, fabric which is very difficult with which to work. Most of us were really excited to purchase our first pieces of Malian fabric, especially me because the only Malian fabric I have acquired is the super-electric, bright lime green fabric my family used to make my Ramadan party clothes. I ended up getting two pieces of fabric and then later that day, went with my host sister Moye to the tailor to get measured for clothes. Because I am resourceful, I decided not to just have cloth made into a large paigne, or wrap-around floor length skirt, but instead into something I might actually wear once I am home. I had a knee-length paigne made from a green pattern and a short mini-skirt made out an orange fabric. Although I am excited for both, I am a little nervous for the mini-skirt. My host sister is very… hmm… comfortable in her own skin, to put it delicately, and it was her voice the tailor heard when being instructed on the length of my skirt. Unfortunately, I am not loud enough, or to be more accurate… I am not fluent in Bambara, and so the tailor could not have cared less as to what I wanted. After a relaxing weekend away from the family, I felt this was an appropriate Monday.
---Tuesday
For the health aspect of my semester, we have a doctor that comes into our class every so often and lectures us about the major health issues of Mali and how their health care system works. Basically, there is a three-tiered approach to medical treatment here. Level one is the most basic and located at the community or local level. It is referred to as the SESCom and is established to help the needs of the majority of the population. Level two is the private clinic level that reaches only the most privileged patients. It is the most expensive, obviously because it is private care. Level three is the hospital, which is where we went Tuesday. Much to our horrified knowledge, the specific hospital we visited, Point G, is one of the most advanced in the country. The overall conceptual layout of the hospital is similar to a college campus with different buildings spread all over inside a walled-off area. Each specialty has its own building and after walking around for a while and seeing where each specialty was located, we walked through two specialties. The first was actually not a building but more of a small enclosed compound area for women who have problems or special complications with their pregnancies. My class was able to sit with the women and discuss the different reasons they were in this special ward. We learned of the alienation they face from their village due to their conditions and because many of the problems continue post-pregnancy (for example, they constantly leak waste fluid) many of the women stay in the compound for the rest of their lives. The other building we walked through was for extreme joint problems. We walked around in the rooms and unlike western hospitals, were everything is enclosed within the walls of the building, these buildings are open to the outdoors-- the hallways are more like breezeways. The rooms where the patients sleep are packed full with about 10 beds per room with little to no privacy and there is very dim lighting and everything is covered in dirt. The first room we walked through had a helpless little boy in it who could barely feed himself. He was not mentally handicapped; his movements were just very slow. Also, his hair looked similar to someone who was going through radiation (but obviously, that would have been impossible) and his skin was splotchy with tons of small white patches everyone. No one could understand exactly what he had been diagnosed with and that’s when we discovered… hospitals here don’t diagnose and cure, they simply treat symptoms. If you went to the hospital with a brain tumor, they would probably just treat the severe headache you were experiencing with tons of drugs and then unknowingly let you slowly die of cancer. Seeing this little boy so desperate to feel better and walking away from him knowing that these doctors, the best in the country, literally have no idea what’s wrong with him or they can help , is painful to say the least. The absolute worst part, is that when he sees all of us walk through his room he thinks we are western doctors that are visiting the hospital, probably to help him, but little does a he know the highest level of science I have under my belt is a Geology course I took at Miami because it’s nicknamed ‘Rocks for Jocks.’ We also learned that there aren’t nearly enough beds to cover 1/10th of the amount of patients that should be admitted for critical reasons.
--Wednesday
We visited a SESCom, or the bottom tier of the health latter, on Wednesday. This is where the average person in the community goes to get treatment for almost everything that ails them that they can’t fix with local remedies—which includes everything from vaccinations to giving birth. Each cartier or so has at least one SESCom. It is places like this that I am not literarily talented enough to accurately describe with words. Everything was extremely dirty, poorly lit, beyond underequipped and just all around unsanitary. Their equipment was more rudimentary than a college biology class… and it just felt like it would be a breeding place for sickness, not health. The building it was in was not even close to big enough to house all of the people that needed to use it and is it unbelievably understaffed. We walked through the room where the midwives work and deliveries take place—it instantly reminded me of a ‘hospital’ themed room in a haunted house. As I walked through the SESCom, my eyes could barely absorb everything I was seeing and all I could think was how I wished I was more scientifically savvy so I could benefit more from the experience.
To end my two medicals visits with my feelings of disgust wrapped into one simple thought let me end with this… not a single bathroom, including the bathroom for staff, at either of the medical facilities had soap—no one, not even their doctors, wash their hands with soap.
--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday
It’s been great bonding with my class and having extra time outside of the classroom to hang out with each other. One of our favorite things to do is go to the crazy outdoor market and practice our Bambara by buying tons of fruits and vegetables. We then cut them up (which sounds like a ‘duh’ statement but actually noteworthy because using a swiss army knife to cut a mushy tomato without a cutting board in the dark is a somewhat difficult task) and eat them together for dinner while relaxing on someone’s roof. We have also started discovering good restaurants around the city including one TexMex and one Italian restaurant that were both tolerable if not actually good. In our class we categorize good food in two ways: ‘actually’ good (yes, we would eat that if we were at home) and ‘comparatively’ good (if it weren’t for the fact that our bodies hate us for taking them to a third world country and our taste buds are far less snooty, we would never eat this at home). Saturday we got adventurous and a group of us went down town to an art exhibit at the Musee National. It included photographs taken in different parts of the country by two Chinese men. Afterwards, we went to the Grande Marche (aka pure chaos on e) and shopped around for a while. I spent the rest of the weekend hanging out and going out with my classmates and only until Sunday afternoon and night did I regroup with my family which was, of course, full of love.


I am at a rural village stay this week and then enjoying the rest of my weekend in a fit of celebration for my 21st birthday, appropriately themed “Rumble in the Jungle”. Although a lot about me may grow and change through this experience, I am discovering that some things are uniquely me and thus cannot be touched or changed… like theme-ing my own birthday party and passing out invitations to enjoying the phrase ‘birthday week’ to an entirely new level.

At a discussion we went to a couple weeks ago with the ‘Save the Children’ Organization for Western Africa, the head coordinator ended his speech with a piece of advice I personally think rings very true. He said, “Go through life acquiring two talents: a sense of humor and the ability to write well”. I’ve decided I must be the luckiest kid on earth because this adventure allows me to have a good belly laugh at least once a day… and you can’t ask for much more than that.

Love, Sarah

Sikasso, you're the bomb.com!

I ni ce! (Hello in Bambara)

Sorry that I waited so long to write and then wrote a novels-worth of information. Haha… ENJOY!

First of all, you can all be reassured… my confidence in dancing has been restored. The night after ‘African boites are super intimidating’, while going out with some classmates, I remembered that although we can’t dance well… at least we are all in the same boat, figuratively. It’s not about the grace or technical level of your dancing but the spirit you have while doing it. To compliment my reestablished love of dancing, the very next night I had yet another opportunity to showcase my overly ‘white’ dance skills…
If you haven’t figured it out yet, Africans LOVE to dance. I would say their love and ability to dance is more of a defining characteristic than the color of anyone’s skin. On the night of their Independence, September 22, my street had a rather large block party a few minutes from my house. The party basically consisted of all of the neighborhood families circling themselves up with a DJ and huge bright lights, in the middle of a dirt street, to dance and party the night away. An emcee stood in the center of the circle and called out different age groups of kids to dance to different songs. Wanting to experience all that we could, a handful of my classmates and I attended the function with each other and a few members of our family. Because my friends and I glow in the dark, due to the light nature of our skin, we were immediately noticed. Not only did we receive front row seats, chairs included, for the event, but we were also summoned into the center of the dance circle. As I am sure you can imagine the crowd went absolutely wild. What could be better for a young group of Africans, who learned to dance before they could walk, then to watch a group of white kids try and awkwardly dance for their entertainment? Nothing, is the answer for which you are looking. So, we laughingly make our way out to the center of the circle… the music starts… and the song is none other than “Gasolina”—a favorite of mine from high school. Needless to say, we collectively ‘left it all out on the dance floor’ and showed them that although we cannot dance well, we can adopt their attitude of ‘live life to the fullest and love every minute of it.’ Overall the night was an inspirational tribute to the movement of our bodies and a celebration of our universal love and appreciation of music. And much to my surprise, what I thought was a one-time occurrence for their Independence Day celebration, is actually a regular occurrence in my neighborhood… maybe by the time I get back, I’ll be a dancing pro! Watch out “So You Think You Can Dance”… here I come!

Flash forward a few days to this past weekend.
My class and I traveled to a different city for a mini-vacation to escape our normal lives in Bamako. We drove 6 hours in crowded, non-air conditioned vans over the bumpiest roads I have ever seen—a comical tribute to Mali’s lack of infrastructure and France’s blatant disregard for ‘responsible colonialism’ (an oxymoron in and of itself). We left school early Friday morning and arrived in Sikasso, the city of our weekend get-away, around 2pm. After enjoying a quick lunch, we got a much needed surprise… we were going to the POOL!
To capture our excitement, revert back to your memories of your early childhood and that first day of summer when you and all of your friends headed to the neighborhood pool. Youdid your first big cannon ball into the cool, refreshing water… and as you pull your head out of the water and take a big gasping breath of warm summer air, all you can think is “life is good.” Nothing feels better on hot, sweaty, bugbitten skin than chlorinated pool water. After the pool, we went back to our hotel to find our dinner tables had been placed outside, under the stars. My class and I enjoyed a romantic dinner under the stars accompanied by some of the best food we have experienced on our entire trip thus far.
After going to bed completely satisfied, we woke up early the next morning and I completed an achievement I did not think was possible for myself… a THIRD hike! We drove a distance out from the city to a place with huge, rock-like, mountainous structures. To scale up the side of the rock formations, there were long ladders we had to climb up and over to get past the more dangerous cliff areas. The large rock formations consisted not only of steep cliffs, but also large caves which served as living quarters and prayer areas for local Muslim men. The view from the top was breathtaking and worth the scary hike up and then back down the side of the cliffs and small mountain side. Once on top of the rocks, we could see forever… the African landscape is a beautiful site from any location but the bird’s eye view definitely ‘adds a little something extra’ to its overall impact and beauty. The small shrubbery or bush was vibrant green in contrast to the reddish dirt. We could see large herds of moving cattle and small collections of huts scattered throughout the countryside. It was a site that you would never have the opportunity to witness in Bamako. After the hike, we saw a few more of Sikasso’s ‘high-lights’ including their version of China’s great wall and the tomb of Tata, a beloved past ruler of the area.
Although I thought the morning hike could not be trumped, I was happily proven wrong. After lunch and a quick rest, we went to see a cascade, or waterfall. Sikasso’s temperature was overall better and cooler than Bamako’s to begin with because it is located in a different part of the country, but the rush of the water from the waterfall added to an even cooler and extremely refreshing feeling. We walked around the top and then to the base of it, and even stopped to pose for several pictures as I am sure you have seen from my previous post. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to touch, let alone play, in the water because we are ‘fragile’ as they like to say… but witnessing its beauty was enough of a treat. After another romantic, outdoor dinner with everyone, a few of my friends and I headed to the roof of our hotel where we stationed ourselves for the rest of the night. We stayed up there listening to music, talking, and enjoying the incredibly cool weather under a full blanket of glowing stars.
The next morning we left bright and early to return to Bamako and although the ride was overall uneventful, one somewhat interesting thing happened… I had to pee outside in the African bush. Because they don’t have Quicktrips on every corner here, let alone any sort of bathroom-like structure, halfway though our ride home my van had to stop to take a restroom break. We all wadded through tall grasses into a clearing, scattered away into our own little corners of animal-less peace and did our business rural Africa style. My great aunt used to forewarn me about situations like that when I was young, encouraging me to ALWAYS use the bathroom before I got in the car… another life lesson learned, I am never too old or smart or cool to listen to the wise advice of my Great Aunt Wanda.

I made it back to my host family safe and sound, but not very well rested. It was a long and tiring weekend but one that was desperately needed. The weekend away was the perfect escape my entire class and I needed from Bamako and the stressful daily grind of school, our host families, and every other challenge that gets thrown our way every day.

A lot of people have asked for it so I am going to go ahead and post my address on here, that way I don’t have to message every single person individually:

Sarah Pontier
c/o Modibo Coulibaly
Baco Dijikotoni- ACI- Sud
Rue 732 Porte 54
Bamako
Mali

I’ll try and post funny stories later this week before I leave for my rural visit stay next week.
If you can’t tell, everything is still going great here and I can’t believe I have been here for over a month… it seems like such a long time, but in the same breath… it still kind of feels like I just got here.

Everyone is still doing a great job of keeping me updated! Great job  and thanks!
I love and miss you all.

Love, Sarah

I cant see the pictures... So I can't correctly label them but I will just tell you what they are and you play the game of placing the caption with the picture...

-The green van looking thing is the Sitrama... which is their bus system. These are what we ride to get around town and downtown.It is about as sketchy as it looks and ALWAYS an adventure.
-The picture of hand holding is two of my classmates with a couple kids who practically attacked us with love on one of our tours while we were out of town this weekend. They followed us around the entire time holding our hands...
-The picture infront of the waterfall is of me and my two closest friends here. This was also taken while out of town this weekend. The waterfall was amazing but we weren't allowed to touch any water or go in it so that kind of stunk. But, the view was worth it.
-The picture of me with one other girl was taken in our hotel room... we went out of town this weekend to Sikasso. The drive there was 6 hours and my friend in the picture got bored so she made all of us friendship bracelets-- very oldschool, but very appreciated. And this is a picture of her putting her creation on my wrist.

I think those are all of the pictures but like I said,
I can't see so I really have no idea.

Sorry about that but I hope you enjoy the pictures!
Some of my classmates have also been uploading pictures to facebook so check that out too!

Love, Sarah

African boites are intimidating!!!

Hello everyone!

A lot has been going on since the last time I updated so bare with me as I try to relay a lot of information in an easy and concise manner.

What I have been up to:

On Tuesday, my class went to a women’s prison. The image of this place is forever ingrained in my mind. To quote my post-visit journal entry, “It smelled like human shit, everywhere.” They live dormitory style, with too many women cramped in each room. There are no cells at all but instead they live in a large compound with almost everything outdoors. They are free to walk around inside the small, gated compound which is where we entered and walked through… right next to all of them. Not only were the living conditions less than excusable, but the women looked somewhat sickish. Most of them seemed to have some sort of skin illness or disfigurement. There were also very stark differences between their prison and a typical women’s prison in the United States. For instance, there were tons of children inside the prison. For some reason, women who are incarcerated are still able to keep their children with them up to a certain age. The rules of the prison are overall much more relaxed… the women are able to use knitting needles, razors, and even hot coals to cook with. This seemed rather strange to me considering that when the warden was asked what crimes placed these women in prison, the top 2 answers were manslaughter and infanticide (the murdering of children). It seems to me, although I am not educated on the subject, that the top 2 things I would keep out of this, or really any, prison are weapons and children… but I guess they feel it works for them. I could go into so much more detail but it isn’t particularly pleasant. To end this paragraph on a conclusive note, the Bamako prison was NOT similar to the Bridget Jones’ Diary 2: The Edge of Reason Thailand prison scene I originally had painted in my mind… Hollywood, your reenactment of a female third world prison was inaccurate, and because of you, I was ill-prepared.

On Wednesday, a couple girls from my class and I went down to the Niger River to ‘observe’ it. Our driver, Kara, dropped us off somewhere strange but eventually we made it to an opening in the river. There was a slum-like neighborhood we had to walk through to actually get to the river in the area we picked to observe and the contrast between where we live with our home stay families and this neighborhood was really extreme. We had to walk through a large field of muddy sewage to even enter the village area, and then walk through the village to actually get near the water. ‘Observing’ their way of life was personally difficult for all of us to take in. Most of the kids had potbelly or malnourished stomachs. Unlike most third world countries, Malian children get enough of a calorie intake but they are still malnourished because what they eat doesn’t actually provide their bodies any vitamins or health benefits. So, typically, their bellies stick out really far, looking very bloated, and the child tends to look very ill. It’s emotionally hard and draining to walk through this area and see swarms of sick kids with crusty snot running down their noses and smelling of human feces. It’s even harder trying to make the choice of whether or not you should let them touch you… they want to shake your hand and follow you around but at what point do you say enough is enough? We have no idea where their hands have been and literally have no way to properly disinfect. It sounds heartless but it is a legitimate concern my group had a hard time discussing.
Although the water is an excellent resource and in some respects they are very lucky to have it, in other ways it is a terrible curse. It’s disgustingly dirty, the entire cities waste just sits in it and it breeds disease and parasites. Everyone in the village drinks it, cooks with it, and washes everything in it, including themselves. The number one thing the SIT program tells you after “don’t eat the street food,” is DO NOT touch water from the Niger River. And if you do, you must immediately wash yourself off and disinfect as best as you can. So to think an entire group of people, and I am sure there are also others, live life with the river for companionship seems devastating to my Western eyes.
I have personally started to really struggle with these kinds of observations. I walk around and wonder… if they don’t know of anything different, do they understand the kind of poverty they live in? It’s crazy to think anyone would think a life like this is normal, even the living conditions of my wealthy Malian family, but the reality is, I am the out of touch person… a majority of the world lives in similar situations like this and we truly are the freaks for the way we live. It was a really hard experience to observe. Also, like most situations we find ourselves in, it’s awkward to just walk in on someone’s life and ‘observe it’. Who are we to invade their space and make them feel like what they do, which is completely normal, is something so strange to us that we want to study it? A majority of the time a lot of us feel like we are trampling through their lives carelessly making silly judgments on how ‘different’ they are. Having a group of young white girls walking through your village and shaking your hand is very weird—to put it bluntly. Try envisioning the situation vise-a-versa… Once you really start thinking about it, it’s rather strange.

On Thursday, we did the coolest thing yet… we went to the US Embassy! We had a presentation by the ‘spokesman’, aka total badass, for the USAID (which is the US Agency for International Development). To rewind a bit, let’s first talk about the US Embassy… Hello America! The next time you go anywhere in the United States, notice the track lighting, ceiling, smooth walls, crown molding, sleekly sealed windows, window panes, huge and heavy sleek metal doors, pretty much everything… because it’s uniquely Western. Our embassy is a ‘if you even glance at our building incorrectly, we are going to kick your ass in a way you’ve never even thought of’ kind of building. Just being in it made all of us a little homesick but luckily, our lecture on Malian development quickly reminded us why we are here and we soaked up the buildings air-conditioning with appreciation instead of longing.
Our lecturer talked with us about the four main areas the USAID works to improve development in Mali, which includes health, economic growth, governance and communication, and education. Although I won’t bore you with what we learned, it was wonderful to hear him speak. With his lobbyist persona, he embodied the ability to take anything negative and turn it into a positive. Just seeing someone with that kind of speaking ability is inspirational and to know that my class was able to have a discussion with someone that high ranking in such a huge organization is incredible.

Friday and Saturday were socially fun for me but definitely not blog worthy so I will move forward with Sunday. On Sunday, the big post-Ramadan ‘fete’ (or party) began. To preface it a little bit, we were told that because Muslims (which is basically the entire country) have been fasting for over a month to observe Ramadan, they throw a HUGE party to celebrate its ending on the Sunday it is over. But, cultural differences don’t lie… our definition and their definition of partying our two very different things. People here spend about a week getting ready to celebrate the end of Ramadan. It’s basically like preparing for Prom. They do their hair, paint their nails, get all new clothes, and fight with their significant others about their plans for the day. Problem is, when the ‘big day’ arrived I was expecting a “PAR-TAY!!!” and I got (include a small, sad sigh) “party”. My day went like this… I woke up, showered and was then greeted by the preparation of lunch. As I sat, watching them dissect what they kept referring to as just ‘viande’ (or meat), I grew continually more and more suspicious. With help from my trusty French/English dictionary I was able to creatively and tactfully ask about what exactly we were about to eat. By the time lunch came around and I had a piece of my mystery meat in my mouth, I put two and two together… I was eating the ‘best’ parts of the cow, or less formally known as the parts that no one in the Western world wants to eat. As I chomped on cow stomach, arteries, and tongue, I more figuratively ate my own words of “I eat and like everything, I am not a picky eatter”, and digested the fact that the previous statement is now a lie.
`After lunch, I put on my new traditional Malian clothes (yes, I took pictures) and walked with my friends from house to house meeting up with other classmates and seeing all of their new clothes. Needless to say, we looked strange. It’s one thing to walk around and be glowingly white but retain your ‘normal’ and expected Western garb… it’s completely different to walk around glowingly white in traditional Malian clothes. People thought we were literally crazy. After this spectacle, I returned home to observe the next big part of the holiday… begging and praying children. Adults sit in their courtyards with their front doors open and wait for children, dressed in their best clothes, to walk in and rattle off an entire list of prayers or wishes for their New Year in exchange for a few coins. To give everyone a western point of reference… it’s basically the combination of dressing and preparing for Easter and walking around from door-to-door like Halloween (but instead of candy, they get coins).
That evening, my sister invited me out to see a movie with her and her friends. I enjoyed Terminator 3, dubbed in French and then we went to the ‘boite’ (or club). Although I have about an hour’s worth of information to share about the boite, I will simply say this… I am not easily intimidated but dancing in an African night club lowered my ‘dancing self-esteem’ to nonexistent and tonight (Monday 9.21) when I go out, I am going with my fellow, terrible dancing, classmates.

A random Malian thought:

They wear Western t-shirts here—bargain basement, Salvation Army reject t-shirts. This, overall, is a great idea… it’s recycling at its finest and it’s nice to know the “Support our Public School” t-shirt you got in 95’ isn’t in some landfill but instead continuing to do its job by clothing and making a statement. It is however odd to see an impoverished man standing on the corner begging for change in a t-shirt that says “Support our Public Schools”. It’s wrong and strange on so many levels… even if he could read, the likelihood that he would read English is nonexistent. The irony of the meaning behind the shirt and the language it is written in paired against their educational system and basic lack of fundamental infrastructure is a prime example of globalization… its definitional perfection kills me. The strange thing is, this is not an isolated example or the exception to some rule… it is the cultural norm. Everywhere we walk, a majority of people are wearing graphic t-shirts with absolutely absurd things written on them. Although I see the extremely sad aspect to the t-shirt situation, I can’t help but laugh when I see a 50 year old man wearing a Pokemon t-shirt or a baby in a Lakers jersey… they don’t have anime cartoons OR basketball here.

Random personal thoughts:

I still love it here but homesickness has definitely started to settle in. It’s starting to effect almost everyone in my group in one way or another. It’s not terrible or anything traumatic; it’s just that over time things add up. To give a short, shout-out style list of things I am missing: mac’n’cheese and broccoli shells, chips and salsa, chapter, peebs, sushi, American TV shows, mindprobs, waffle house, pictures with ‘heads together’, bill, pad thai, singing in the car, green bean casserole, and anything that reminds me of my family (in multiple senses of the word). The updates are beyond awesome, I will never be able to explain how they impact my day and… if this little adventure of mine has shown me anything, it’s that I am truly beyond blessed with the friends and family in which I am surrounded. It’s cheesy, I know, but it just had to be said.

I will try and write again soon so that I can write without the stress of trying to include an entire week’s worth of information into one entry. I am sending my love from half-way around the world… I hope you can all feel it!

Love. Sarah