Adventures in Ghana

On Sept  17^th, a group of 12 other Peace Corps Mali Volunteers and myself left on a bus for Ghana for a much needed, but also to run in the annual marathon/half marathon that’s held every September in Accra, the capitol. But, let’s be real, I was also in search of Sidik look-alikes. Travelling through Burkina Faso into Ghana, the trip took us about 36 hours, including a 5-hour stop at one border so the drivers could sleep. The bus didn’t have air conditioning and did not have bathrooms on board (think Greyhound,) but looking back, the trip there wasn’t that bad. We had tons of snacks and were excited for vacay & to be around each other, so it went fairly quickly. We arrived in Kumasi, where we then travelled to Takurati to stay at the Green Turtle Lodge (BEACH!), an environmentally-friendly resort/lodge type deal where we stayed for 3 nights. The bus taxi we rented to get there had a little trouble on the ridiculously rocky road/path that was atleast 6k off the main road and broke down, but who better than 12 girls to push at 11pm? We found a 13 year-old kid to catch and cook us lobsters for what we figured was equivalent to 0.75 a lobster. The food was delicious at the Lodge – egg, sausage, & toast breakfasts with French press coffee, paninis for lunch. Did I mention there was a beautiful beach? We all got a lot of sun, but it felt good to sunbathe and swim in the ocean.  After the Green Turtle, we headed back to Kumasi to go to Kakum National Park, home to the tallest and largest series of rope bridges in the world. There are 4 like it in the world – 1 in Costa Rica and I can’t remember where the others are. The 7 rope bridges criss-crossed over the rainforest. After leaving, we went to the Oasis Resort in Cape Coast, which was probably my favorite place we went to in Ghana. The culture was Jamaica-rasta. All the locals wore Bob Marley tees and beanies baring Jamaican colors and would say things to us like ‘it’s nice to be nice’ or ‘we are all rich. We are only poor if we want to be.’ Ghanaians speak English, but they also have something like 40 local languages, one being Twee, which we picked up a few essential phrases. We discovered in Cape Coast that Ghanaian music is WAY better than Malian music. We came home and immediately downloaded the songs that became the anthems for our trip. The music was hip-hop meets pop meets Jamaica. They also listen to a lot of American hip-hop.  I wish we had more than just one night in Cape Coast, but we had to get to Accra to rest up for the marathon/half marathon, which was the whole purpose of our trip to Ghana. The people that weren’t running stayed behind in Cape Coast another day, while the runners (me?!) began our way to Accra, which turned into an all-day affair. A PCV from Ghana that we met in Cape Coast (super jealous) told us about a hostel/hotel outside of Accra that was opened by a previous Medical Officer for Peace Corps Niger, and gives priority to Peace Corps Volunteers and their families. The place was incredible and none of us wanted to leave. We cooked breakfast there & watched Harry Potter on the big screen tv and slept in air conditioned rooms with King sized beds. If you’re EVER in Ghana, you HAVE to stay at the Peace Inn outside Accra. The staff was so nice & it was just as inexpensive as all of the other hostels we stayed at during our trip. But, we didn’t leave luxury for long. One girl on our trip got us a sponsor for the race, who paid for 2 rooms for us to stay at the African Royal Beach Hotel in Accra, one of the nicest hotels in Ghana, which was like a five star hotel in America. We laid by the pool and ordered Hawaiian pizzas at the restaurant bar. (Pictures will be on Facebook very soon; check ‘em out.) We woke up at 4am to head to the race starting line, wearing our matching t-shirts we had made and American flags in our pony-tails. The race course started alongside the water, which was a beautiful, scenic route, but went on to go alongside the highway and through some towns, which didn’t have the best terrain. There was no roped-off course, so running through town, we would have to yell ‘Excuse me!’ to weave our way through people, at times, who were on their way to church or collecting water. By mile 9, my feet & legs were killing me. I more or less crawled the last 4 miles, with short spurts where I would jog a few hundred yards. There were people from all over running both the marathon and the half marathon, but there was also a team relay and a 10k. I don’t know how many hundreds of people competed, but the girl who won for the females was a Ghanaian (duh) and looked like she could run across Africa while doing a crossword puzzle. She wasn’t even winded when she finished. I think I collapsed. I got passed by Ghanaians doing the marathon, who started about an hour before we did, cars following alongside them with video cameras. But, all in all, I’m proud of myself for finishing, being a self-proclaimed non-runner and all. It was rough, though. I wish I would have clocked my time, but it was somewhere around 2.5 hours. No one knows exactly when we started and they didn’t give us our finishing times. I decided I will stick to 5ks and 10ks from now on. 13 miles is a little too much for me. After the race, we celebrated with orange slices, coconuts, and Ghanaian rice and chicken. We all got medals that say ‘Finisher’ on them - definitely going up on the mantel with my stocking when I come home for Christmas. For the rest of the day, we went to the spa at the hotel where we got free 30-minute massages, haircuts, and pedicures, laid by the pool and celebrated a birthday for a girl on our trip with a cake and daiquiris. The following day, we made it into town to shop and eat at the country’s first, brand new KFC in town. There wasn’t macaroni & cheese or mashed potatoes, but I’m pretty sure we were still in heaven. It was fried chicken!  After checking into the Salvation Army’s hostel, we shopped until late afternoon, and then a couple of us went to the NYU center in Accra, where my friend Meredith, an NYU grad, spoke at a hosted dinner on Peace Corps and her experiences thus far. Ghana’s Peace Corps Country Director also spoke on the Peace Corps and the application process. Afterwards, we mingled with NYU students who were in the Accra study abroad program over dinner, which was amazing & FREE! I also may have fallen in love with their Resident Director, who sat with me at dinner, a local Ghanaian who came with us afterwards to meet up with the rest of our group at a sushi place (Yes, sushi in Ghana!) I’ve never seen so many white people…well, in 8 months. After a delicious sushi dinner with cocktails, we went out in Accra with some people we had met who had just opened a bar nearby. Fun night of dancing and drinks & listening to our new favorite Ghanaian songs. Our bus ride the following day was by far the worst part of the trip and it sucked that we ended the trip with such a low, but it was an experience nonetheless, so much so that I recorded the timeline in a draft on my phone: Left the bus station at 11:15 am after running around the city, going to different bus stations until we found the right one. The bus was scheduled to leave at 10:00 am. The bus broke down only 50k outside of Accra at 2:20pm. Yes, that is 3 hours to travel 50k. To say that the bus was a piece of shit or that that road was horrible would be the understatement of the year. We sat by the side of the road until 7pm, after calling the bus company as well as the Safety & Security Officer for Ghana who promised us a free ride back to Accra if only we could get the bus company to give us our money back. Clearly, he didn’t. So, at 7pm, we headed towards Kumasi. We stopped an hour and a half later to fix the bus yet again – electrical problems, they kept saying, but refused to call the bus company to demand another bus. We didn’t leave that bus stop until about 11pm, but the drivers drove through the night to make up for lost time. The rest of the stops were for using the bathroom (almost always on the side of the road) or to eat. Thank God, we made it to the Ghana/Burkina Faso border before it closed the following day at 5pm. After hours of paperwork and ‘no, go stand over there’s, we made our way through Burkina without too much trouble, and made it to the Burkina/Mali border late that night at 1am, where we stopped to sleep – some on the ground outside of the bus along with the other Malian passengers, some inside of the bus, which didn’t provide much shut eye. I got off the bus after 49 grueling hours (kind of like Oregon Trail, yes) in Koutiala, after eating mostly bread & peanut butter, saying goodbye to the rest of the group who had another 6-8 hours or so to Bamako. All in all, it was rough. My last shower was Sunday. Count it: 4 full days without a shower. Who am I?

So, let’s recap all of the elements of my trip that were completely contradictory to who I’ve always considered myself to be: I got a massage & a haircut by a Ghanaian woman at the spa of a hotel. Yes, I let someone touch me. She also swore that the oils she insisted on rubbing into my hair would make it shine. No, it made me look like I came out of the movie Grease. I ran a half-marathon. Yes, I RAN. What the hell? I climbed a series of rope bridges hundreds of feet up in the air and I’m afraid of heights. I went 4 days without washing my body or my hair. So, if there was ever a time for an identity crisis, it’d be now. However, I’m pretty sure my OCD is dwindling, so that’s a bonus.

The trip was great and it was hard coming back, but also, it feels good to be ‘home.’ In 2 weeks, I’m going to visit a friend for her birthday, followed by a Halloween bash a couple hours away from my region, then Thanksgiving, which is held every year in Sikasso, the land of plenty. Thanksgiving is a huge affair every year – complete with a registration day, Feast Day on Thanksgiving, Mexican Day at our hotel's really nice pool, and a day at the waterfalls in Woroni. I’ll have a lot to write about after all of those events, so stay tuned. Oh, and in case you’re counting down with me: 79 days til I’m home!!!!! Let the diet begin…

The Village People

In going along with Goal 2 of Peace Corps, to exchange American culture with host country nationals, I decided my best contribution would be in the realm of fashion & pop culture, obviously. So after visiting the transit house, I collect old People or Glamour (they’re not ready for Cosmo yet) magazines that other volunteers have been sent from home and read, and give them to the teenage girls that live near me. Like teenage boys/men reading GQ, they’re not in it for the articles, not that they could read them anyways. It’s all about the pictures, which leads to discussions about different topics. It’s pretty interesting, though I wish my language was better to explain certain things. Also, I have two friends in my village who have given me their jump drives to put music and movies on for them. My guy friend, Salifu, who works at the mayor’s office in my town, who everyone thinks I’m dating (I’m not), loved Scarface and his responst to Avatar was, ' I do not understand.' Next up is Lord of the Rings: I'll keep you updated on his reaction. I don’t think they understand the movies, but I am trying to find ones that atleast have French subtitles. I haven’t yet given them any music, but I did ask Salifu what kind of music he liked and his response, roughly translated was, ‘whatever’s good for you is good for me.’ False. I highly doubt it. So, his examples, naturally, were Celine Dion & Bob Marley. Oh, they have so much to learn.

One of the craziest things I’ve seen here happened the other week when my friend Hannah came to my site for a few days to help me paint a mural at my health center. We had just finished eating dinner and were sitting around, eating corn with my host family, when we heard people screaming, calling people to come. We had no idea what was going on and couldn’t get anyone to tell us in the frenzy of them running around. We followed and noticed that everyone was running towards the pump with buckets, which is when we saw it: there was a hut on fire. It was, as the cliché goes, like watching a car wreck – you wanted so desperately to help, but realistically knew that there was nothing we could do. We guiltily wanted to take pictures, but how cruel would that have been? No one was hurt, as it was only a cooking hut, where no one lived. The entire roof, made of straw, ended up collapsing in and being suffocated, despite people’s  attempts to throw water on it. It seemed like my entire village was running back and forth to the pump, filling buckets with water to throw on the flames, but it wasn’t enough to smother the flames. Makes you thankful for the Fire Department in America, what with their speedy arrival and hoses and extension ladders and all that. Shout out to the PTCFD. Do your thing.

So, like I said, Hannah & I (honestly, just Hannah) painted a mural on nutrition on one of the outer walls of my health center. It shows the 3 recognized Malian food groups: Energy, Construction, and Protection foods, with pictures going along with each group showing the benefits of each, as most Malians in rural villages are illiterate. I think it turned out really well and as soon as my camera chord arrives from the U.S. of A, I will upload photos. I have taken a lot lately and haven’t been able to upload them, my most sincere of apologies.

This past week also marked the end of Ramadan and the beginning of their celebrations known as Seli fitini, which will be followed by Seli ba in a few weeks. There was a 3-day celebration/feast, where no one worked, but there was a lot of going around, blessing neighbors to have a good year. Kids were all dressed up in new, fresh outfits, girls wore awful makeup. I even went to the mosque on day with my whole village, with everyone all dressed up, and went through the traditional prayer with them:  going through the motions, placing my forehead to the ground. I had an overwhelming sense of community and loved that I did that with them on the holiday, but obviously am not converting to Islam. The whole celebration was like Halloween meets Easter meets Christmas, African village-style. Little kids would go around, home to home, chanting blessings, and adults would give them change.

A few days ago, I had one of my first tangible successes: I built my first working ‘Tippy Tap.’ It’s a structure we learned to build during our last training a couple months ago made of wood, meant to help people without running water to wash their hands more effectively. I built it in the village I go to weekly to do different animations and they were all super excited and proud to show it off to people. I almost cried, no lie. I’ll have to put up pictures showing what it looks like, but the idea is that you step on a foot pedal made of wood that’s attached to a 4L jug of water with a whole in the side, connected by a piece of string, that tips over and water comes out. There’s also a bar of soap on a string, hanging as well, to encourage hand washing WITH SOAP. It’s fairly simple, but it’s also combatting a huge problem here, which is behavior change. They aren’t accustomed to washing their hands after they go to the bathroom and when they do wash their hands before they eat, it isn’t with soap. So, this will hopefully encourage them to do so. It’s also sustainable (something we preach here) because I did not build it myself, I only oversaw and instructed the building of it, so a Malian knows how it’s built as well as how to fix it if it breaks. Also, the soap that is hanging came from the women who actually make soap in the village, so it’s not something that I purchased for them and when it’s gone, it can’t be replaced. If the projects we do cannot be replicated or continued after we’re gone, there’s no point in doing them. That’s why sustainability is so important. So, I feel like it was a great success, albeit initial. I'm planning on building 2 more in my own village in the next couple days, so hopefully the outcome is just as good.

Most recently: my host brothers are obsessed with the glow in the dark stars I gave them that I brought from America (because yes, I am afraid of the dark and I bought a pack of 100 of them before I came) and think it’s crazy that they have to be placed in front of artificial light to ‘charge’ them before they will glow.

GHANA IN 9 DAYS! AHHHHH! More on that after I return. Wish me luck. A half marathon, really? Who am I, a runner?

I Ni Fama (It's Been A While)

8/3/11: Day 3 of Ramadan

My 2^nd day of fasting in village. I didn’t participate yesterday (because I wanted to run & knew I wouldn’t have any energy) & it’s been such the talk of the town. I wanted to try it so I could say I gave it a shot & like most things I do in my community, I was aiming to earn their respect. Fasting is yet another thing they can say that I did to be more like them. I’m proud to be doing it, to have a better picture of what their life is like. I woke up at 4am this morning to eat a literal ‘break.fast’, or rather a last meal before the fast – the typical rice & sauce & the breakfast porridge that I don’t really like. I felt even more a part of my community, fasting with them, being able to say, “yes, I’m fasting today” and seeing them nod with approval. I haven’t even snuck food in my house yet! Though I know I could. But I’m doing this for me as well, so I want to do it right. Fasting is really a mind game. Your mind saying, “You’re hungry!” though your stomach still growls. We’ll see how many more days I do this before the month is over. I’m going to Sikasso tomorrow so God knows I’ll be eating there. Friday, I’m heading to Koutiala for my friend’s birthday party – more feasting. I also need to be running daily so I can’t fast too much; the half marathon in Ghana is steadily approaching & to say that I’m out of shape is an extreme understatement. For those of you who thought I would lose weight while I was here: false. Malians get their fill of carbs, that’s for sure.

So yesterday was the 6^th month mark and I would like to share some of what I’ve learned thus far:

1.       Donald Trump is not the only man who can pull off a comb-over. Benefits of weekly anti-malaria meds: hair loss. Thank you, Mali.

2.       I will never take for granted or get used to how beautiful the sky is all the time: sunrise, sunset, before a storm, in the middle of a storm, a starry night.

3.       Beer bellies also come in the form of rice bellies.

4.       Insects make the best & worst roommates: they’re quiet, but not too quiet. They listen, but don’t judge. They’re always around, yet they’re always lurking.   

5.       Phone credit is the best way to spend my monthly allowance, hands down. I would not survive this experience without blowing large amounts of money on Malitel phone credit. Thank you sweet baby Jesus.

6.       Peace Corps Volunteers get just as excited for Harry Potter premiers and new seasons of Jersey Shore as anyone else I know.

7.       When internet access is available, you don’t sleep.

8.       Feeling attractive is relative.

9.       Every child in my village of over 12,000 knows where I am at any given moment.

10.   “What’s this?” is a question that never gets old, yet is becoming harder and harder to answer tactfully. Picture this: You’re a 6 year-old Malian child & you have never left your village. What would you think a tampon was? Protein powder? Face wash? Toilet paper?

11.   Getting on Facebook only makes you sad.

12.   Behavior change is a lofty, lofty goal.

13.   Being on the radio makes you a celebrity. Introducing DJ Kadja Dumbia.

14.   The word ‘hot’ has a whole, new meaning.

15.   Diarrhea is now the most common topic of conversation & way less taboo than I ever thought it would be.

16.   I swat flies in my sleep, reading outside, and while I’m in the nyegen trying to use the bathroom or shower, all like it’s second nature.

17.   MacGyver’s got nothing on PCVs; we’re resourceful like you wouldn’t believe.

18.   Being out of the loop with American entertainment – celebrity news, the latest music, box office movies, has only made me appreciate how great America is.

More to come…

Mah & More

5/19/11: So yesterday, this woman came to the CSCOM, who my docs told me was named Kadja as well. She's your togoma! Your 'namesake,' they said. You have to go visit her in Mah. You're going to go. When? Tomorrow? 8am. Her husband, Madu, will come tomorrow morning to your house to get you on his bike and you two will bike back to Mah together. You'll do an animation with the women in the village. You'll cook lunch w/ Kadja. So, it's settled. Tomorrow. 8am.
...Really? Yes. Just like that? Yes. And so, in a matter of minutes, I had an obligation that I didn't sign up for. When an opportunity arises, I guess...
And so it was written, so it was done. Madu showed up at my house just after 8am; I, of course, was running late. We took off for Mah together, me, on my Trek 10-speed, him, on his rinkety Malian bike 1-speed: pedal hard. We took the dirt road that first passed by the CSCOM. He had a cigarette, while I said my "Good Morning"s and "How did you sleep?"s to my coworkers. Taking the last few drags on his cigarette as we rode out of town, Madu proceeded to make conversation as we, one behind the other, made our way to Mah. Being in the rear, I was hit in the face with Madu's intense B.O., which was only intensified by the wind blowing in my direction. We had to get off and walk a few times because the road was, at parts, more or less a dried-up river bed. Mah is only 6k (on paper) away, but the trip wasn't easy due to the terrain. Upon arrival, I was greeted by Kadja and her neighbors, who were preparing lunch, naturally, as it was already 9am. Mah is a village of only a couple hundred people, so word had spread that the white girl was coming to town. Kadja had me peel potatoes (everyone stared) and served me warm cow's milk (I thought I was going to get sick, since I have only had pasteurized milk, but I didn't. Score!) The animation went well, though I was tired after a long day of greeting people around the village. I found a carpenter who is going to make me a lounge chair out of bamboo for really cheap. Hopefully it'll be done soon, but probably not; it's Mali, afterall. Madu had to translate what I was saying so that the women would understand my Bambara. (I found out he's a health relay in the community, proud certificate bearer and all.) I would pause every paragraph or so, so that he could literally repeat what I had just said in more colloquial and decipherable Bambara. Baby steps, I guess. And so, I'll be back next week for another round of cooking demonstrations and a health talk on diarrhea & Oral Rehydration Solution, complete with a 'how-to' to prepare it when someone gets dehydrated. GET EXCITED!

So I've been back to Mah 2 more times since this innitial trip to do different animations and to eat lunch with Kadja, Madu, and the clan. They're extremely nice and I'm so grateful for them for letting me come be a surrogate volunteer in their village. I have an open-ended weekly reservation in Mah. See pictures in my most recent Facebook album for pictures of Mah.

I'm currently in Bamako, where I've been since last Friday, when i came in with a positive test for Malaria. Don't worry, I'm all better. I started taking the anti-malarial meds immediately after the rapid malaria test came up positive when I was in my village on Thursday, and by Sunday, my bloodwork came back negative for malaria. However, afterwards, I developed symptoms relating to malaria as well as some sort of a viral infection, and I've been fighting off pretty bad headaches that might have been migraines for about 5-6 days, so the worst is definitely over. Thanks for your concern, everyone. We have our training class' IST (In-Service Training) in Bamako starting Monday through the 25th of June, so I've just been hanging out in Bamako until we have to report on Sunday. The first week, we have sessions on continued language practice, but mainly, we're here to discuss ideas for projects after spending a bit of time in village, surveying the needs and resources available. The second week, our homologues come for what Malians call a "formation." It's basically a workshop or a seminar, except we pay them to come. Strange, right? After IST is over, the majority of our class is travelling up to Monatale for the 4th of July, where a bunch of Peace Corps Volunteers go every year for an Independence Day "Get-Together," if you will...
And I will.

In responding to people's questions about my new village and beginning work here, it's tricky explaining that as new volunteers you literally do nothing your first few months at site. The idea is to first get to know your village and the community's needs before you can help them in any way. It's not a matter of what projects you would like to accomplish, but what resources they have and what is feasible. Thankfully, we have a lot of resources to help us accomplish that: this daunting chore no one wants to start called the baseline survey. <Insert Beethoven's 5th symphony here.> To me, it's so ironic, because we're a group of 61 go-getters who are here because we want to get shit done, make moves, and we're told that for 2 months we should be greeting people, talking to them, and observing, which goes against what we're programmed by nature to do. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself, but sitting around day after day gets boring. We have been and will continue to do a lot of thinking, reading, researching for future projects we'd like to start in our respective villages. My village has told me they think malaria is one of their biggest problems and after a lot of time at my CSCOM (health center), I agree with them. So, I'll help them tackle that the best way I'm equipped, which is through educational tools. I'll give health talks called animations incorporating visual aids, etc. to drive my point across. I actually gave my first animation on malaria this past Friday and overall, I think it went pretty well. More likely than not, the women who attended were probably just showing up to watch the toubab try to talk in Bambara. Hey, if anything sunk in, I guess that's a bonus. As well, I've decided I want to focus on dental health education. Most Malians do not brush their teeth, but they use a stick from a certain tree that supposedly has natural fluoride in it and they use it to scrape their teeth. Regardless, a lot of health problems stem from poor hygiene in general and dental health would be a great place to start. I've been researching dental health and companies like Colgate-Palmolive and the worldwide programs they have to educate people on dental health. Another interest I have is in radio, which is a very popular and widely used medium of information in Mali. Because few families have televisions (mine being the exception), Malians love to listen to the radio and tune in to their favorite shows daily. In Sikasso, the large town 18k away from my village, there are a few radio stations. Another volunteer and myself visited one of them last week and talked to one of the DJs who said he'd love to have us on his radio show once a week (or so I inferred from the smile on his face and what few words in Bambara he said that I understood...). I'm sure it'll take a while to get that started, but Inshallah, in a few months, a couple volunteers in my region and I will rotate doing a radio show talking about different topics ranging from health to business to agriculture. Radio's a great way to reach a larger audience in a short period of time.
Aside from my future projects, most of my days consist of me going to my CSCOM and observing the doctors and matrone and helping out in little ways- paperwork, eye drops, holding things while they work. I know I'm not needed their in that aspect but I think it's more of the fact that I come every day that matters to them. They see that I'm interested and I care. I study and write scripts for future animations also, which I hope to do on a weekly basis in different places in my village- schools, women's groups, and informal settings as well. I really like the people I work with- 1 male pharmacist, 1 male office aid, 3 female doctors, 1 female matrone. Lucienne, a 28 year-old doctor who lives across from the CSCOM, and I have become pretty good friends. She's got great fashion sense and looks like such a baller riding in from Sikasso on her moto, headphones in ears, bedazzled shades on, freshly braided hair tied up in a bun on her head. She's a great cook too, so I eat with her from time to time. My homologue, Mariam, (appointed to me from the Peace Corps to be my work partner) laughs at me on a regular basis and thinks I make strange facial expressions. I think I probably do. She loves to mimic me. Overall, I'm pretty lucky with my work situation and the people I will be working with. They're all very nice and fun to be around. If I could just get the female doctors to stop trying to set me up with any semi-attractive male they come in contact with, that'd be great. Last Sunday, I was invited to go to the Protestant church in the next town over with a guy who works at the mayor's office in my village. The following day, word had spread like wildfire that we were together. Hmm...
They might not have Facebook, Twitter, or TMZ, but gossip spreads in an African village like you wouldn't believe. The toubab was spotted dancing, listening to her radio while she did laundry last Thursday, says the guy who owns 1 of the 2 small general stores in village. Awesome.

Thank you to everyone who has sent me letters, gifts, or packages. I appreciate every single letter. Lugash Family, the necklace you sent me is absolutely beautiful. You guys are too sweet.

I know I haven't put up pictures in a while, but not to worry, I have been taking pictures. The internet connection in Sikasso, while it does exist at the Peace Corps house and I use it whenever I come into town, is not strong enough to upload an album on Facebook. I'll have to wait to do that when I go back to Bamako for our IST training in June. Patience, loved ones. 

Why Are You Here?

4/5/11

It’s a loaded question with an even heavier answer, to be quite honest, but I felt like it needed some clarification. When people would ask me what drove me to go into the Peace Corps or even when fellow volunteers ask what my story is, I usually give a Cliff Notes version, or depending on the situation and who’s around at the time, I might make light of it all, playing it down to a desire to travel and see another part of the world, which I don’t deny as truth. However, for whatever reason, cowardliness, you might call it, I never fully explain my convictions. It’s much easier for me to  write them down; furthermore, to extend these personal emotions from the security of continents separation, hiding behind a computer screen. I’m sorry for withholding that honesty from everyone, for fear that I might be judged, God forbid.

For as long as I can remember, when a commercial would come on tv for an aid organization or a post-disaster relief fund, I got a lump in my throat. The same lump I force down when I’m afraid to cry & give myself a brief, internal prep talk to ‘man up.’ It’s like this: when I’m faced with the opportunity to lend a humanitarian hand, I envision a tiny thread of string tied around my heart with a force, God maybe, at the other end tugging gently, consistently, but not constantly; enough for me to notice a pattern. The voice in my head would say “you’re able,” or just “can,” sometimes the clichéd “to whom much is given…” and I always knew something, some organization, some career, some ___ was in store for my future that involved being a part of something bigger than myself. That something appeared to me in the form of the Peace Corps. Now, do I think Peace Corps is the cookie cutter answer for anyone with a desire to help people? No. Do I think it was the only answer for my life post-college? No, but it fits. I’m sure I could have found another organization that fit all of my requirements, but something about Peace Corps, its prestige, connections, and platform all appealed to me. Which brings me to why we, as an organization, a part of the U.S. government, are here, serving in so many countries all over the world. The Peace Corps’ 3 goals, as proposed by JFK in a speech to college students 50 years ago, urging them to serve, are: to help the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women, to help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served, and to help Americans have a better understanding of other countries' peoples.      

I’ve been semi-frustrated with people who don’t understand the Peace Corps’ purpose or intentions, or simply why I’m here, specifically. My answer is this: 2 of the 3 goals are merely about cultural exchange. That’s it. Simply put, we want to learn about other cultures so that we can share that information with Americans back at home and we want people from other countries to have a better idea of what America is like, other than what they see on tv, which, often times, is the only exposure these host country nationals have to what Americans or the U.S. is all about. We aim to share that, to learn about each other. The other goal is what most people think we’re all about: our actual “jobs” here. For Health Education Volunteers (me!), it’s educating people, sensitizing them on better practices to help them and their children live longer and healthier lives and hopefully educating them well enough so that they can educate others, the generations that follow. Now, I’m not saying we, single-handedly are going to put an end to malnutrition, HIV/AIDS, and sickness here in Mali. Hell, I can try, but realistically, it's one person at a time. I could go on forever, but I won’t bore you or myself with that. We have other sectors as well: Small Enterprise Development, doing things like promoting she butter production, teaching marketing strategies, helping businesses apply for and follow up with loans; Environment Volunteers, planting and educating people on the benefits of the meringue tree (packed full of great nutrients), proper soil fertilization, erosion techniques; Water and Sanitation Volunteers who work with wells, pumps, latrines – construction, and maintenance. We’re just trying to educate people who haven’t the resources to educate themselves, but so deserve that help. And all of us are just trying to get people to wash their hands for crying out loud. Try explaining a germ to an illiterate person in their mid-40s who has never heard of one before. Now, this is all just me rambling from memory, but what I’m trying to convey here is that we’ve got a lot to offer with a lot of people from all different backgrounds who know their shit, and if they don’t, we’ve been in training for almost 3 months on all of this jazz with very well qualified trainers, staff, and previous volunteers teaching us how to do what we’re about to do and how to do it well.

To sum things up and play a little defense for a minute, Peace Corps exists in countries who have specifically asked for us to be there, submitted requests for specific volunteers and who prepare for years for us to live with them and teach them for 2 years at a time, so that they might develop and learn to sustain themselves. Whew. Okay. I don’t know what it is with me; maybe I feel criticized, maybe I’m still trying to justify being here, leaving my family and friends, who didn’t exactly push me on the plane to come here. I guess it was my Dad telling me a few months before I left, “I don’t want you to change” that secured my decision. Because I wanted to and I wanted him to see that the change could be for the better. Thank you for saying that to me, really.

All of these opinions could change, but for the time being, this is how I feel and it may seem like I’m standing on a soap box right now, but from talking to friends and family alone, I know there was a lot I had been holding back. Thanks for listening. In my future life, I’ll be more short-winded. Cross your fingers.  

P.S. - apparently the U.S. government is shutting down today temporarily? Awesome.

"There is nothing perfect...there is only life"

3/30/11: last stint at homestay

So much to say. Back in Mountugula for the last time. 3 more days left with the fams. Probably should be hanging out with them, but I’ve never been good about that. Instead, Delissa, Hannah, and I are sitting on our mats under a tree listening to our ipods. Surprise, surprise.  Jasmin went back to America after site visit. I cried, but then again, I saw it coming. Of course I was super bummed & miss her, but I know her leaving was what’s best for her. She wasn’t happy here and that’s not good for anyone. In no way do I think less of her or say she gave up; she came here, which, in my opinion, is more than half the battle, and stayed almost 2 months under extreme and unfamiliar circumstances. Shout out to you, Jasmin. You’re my girl.

So, Hannah and I both have had site changes. I think we’re the only 2 out of 61, and even then, Hannah’s going to Jasmin’s old site. I like to think of it like a blind date. I know my new village’s name and I’ve heard a few things about the place, but I haven’t seen it yet. I hope he’s cute. But let me set the record straight: I could have survived in Farako. HOWEVER, that is not what would have been in the best interest of the village & its people – to have a volunteer who was merely surviving. I would have been psychologically affected by its remoteness and limitations and not have been able to be an effective volunteer. That is both the politically correct & Peace Corps response. Frankly put, shit was rough. I had no cell phone service (not that most people do, however:) logistically, it would have been virtually impossible to get in & out of village during rainy season (3 months) & even to get to a regional capitol, banking town, Bamako, Sikasso, etc. was very tricky; biking for hours on dried-up river beds, 10+ hour bus rides. I’m still trying to convince myself I made the right decision (can you tell?) since the village was so excited to have me & had prepared for me to be there, serving them for 2 years. But, being that far out in the bush scared me, no matter how wonderful the people in the village were. So, that all being said, my new site is 18k outside of Sikasso (super pumped about that) and close to the Burkina Faso border. I’m pretty sure the village is called Fankolo. One of the Trainers went to check in on my site the other day (since it’s a new site) and said that the people were really excited about me coming, that they planted me a banana tree, a mango tree, and an orange tree. WAHOO! Also, word on the dirt path is that there are waterfalls not far from my village. Also, my market town is only 4k away. Holler. Other than that, I don’t know much about my site. I’m just excited to be close to a large city (Sikasso is the 2^nd largest city in Mali) and to have a main road. I’m supposed to be getting a site folder sometime soon. It’s just taking a while since this village wasn’t planning on getting a volunteer until October; they’re just speeding up the process since a new site was needed. Example: my house is being built as I type this. No lie.

3/4/11: back in Toubaniso (training site)

The last few days with our homestay families were intense in different ways. We had 'going- away' parties in our respective villages, but not quite what you would think of as a 'party,' per se. First, we had to give a farewell/thank you speech to the elders in the village. We all sat on the floor of the communal meeting hut where all the important convos take place; you might say it's where the magic happens. All of the dugutigi's posse (basically all of the men over 60) showed up to listen to what we had to say and speak on behalf of the village. Naturally there were lots of blessings and thank you's for being polite/respectful. One of them said (translated by our language teacher) that we dealt with the living conditions well as they know that they are nothing like what we are accustomed to in America; that our bathrooms in the U.S. are nicer than their entire homes. I didn't want to correct anyone, but that was a vast understatement.

The party was really fun. We danced to drumming music and wore Malian clothes. I put a few pictures on Facebook, so if you're on there, check it out. The following night, our last night in village, was one of the most memorable, though. There was some sort of dance party in the same place as our 'going away party,' but I would equate it to Mountugula's highschool prom/homecoming dance. All of the old teens/early twenties were dressed up and paired off, or so it seemed, and Somalia (my 18 year old brother) was wearing black dress pants and a striped button-down shirt TUCKED IN! It was adorable. I kept telling him he looked 'fresh,' because I taught him that word in English. There were a couple djs who were blasting the latest hits from Celine Dion & Akon, of course. Malians LOVE Akon, by the way. He's from Senegal, which is our neighbor to the west. And for some strange reason, they love Celion Dion. She can sing 'kosebe kosebe' (very, very well) as Drisa says. Sure. Malian dance and American dance is very different, but it was cute to see the girls show off their moves as they were called out by name on the microphone one by one to the center of the dance floor (and by dance floor, I do mean dirt ground because it was outside in a clearing just past my family's compound) to show off a move or two. Then the djs took it upon themselves to call out the American girls as well. Awesome. I went to the center of a circle of about 200 people and did the Harlem shake, I kid you not. I wasn't sure what to do or what was culturally appropriate, so I'm pretty sure I startled quite a few people. We all got some great applause, though. Fun night. The next day, word in the village was that the Americans can dance 'kosebe kosebe.' Translation should not be needed. Goodbyes were super sad the next morning; I cried. Sulu came with me to see us all off, carrying the soccer ball I bought him and Somalia as a 'going away'/'thank you' present, even though it was 8am and he was clearly not going to play soccer. Just adorable that he enjoyed his gift that much. I hate that he saw me cry, but atleast they know it was hard for me to leave. Malians dont hug or show emotions, but I hugged Nana anyways. She has had malaria for the past week so I barely saw her until she came to see me off. Baby strapped to her back and all, I gave her a huge hug and told her she looked beautiful anyways, despite the malaria. She always told me, 'no, YOU are beautiful.' She could model, I kid you not. I'm gonna email Tyra. 

If my new site's people & host family is half as wonderful as my homestay family in Mountugula, I will happily serve them for 2 years.   

"Find beauty in all things."

Allow me to re-introduce myself, my name is...

Kadidya Dumbia. But everyone just says Kadja for short. We were all given Malian names upon our arrival and since our village – Mountugula – is so small, all the little kids run around screaming our names when we walk by and most of them want to touch our hands. Being OCD as I am, and not being the biggest fan of dirty hands, I usually extend my wrist, as we’ve been taught to do when people want to shake our hands and either theirs or ours are dirty. I live with the dugutigi (chief of the village) and his 3 wives, though I swear only 2 are ever around. I call them Granny 1,2, and 3, but to their faces they’re Monyo, Korotun, and I forgot Granny #3’s name since she’s never around.  I’ve met 7 of his sons, or atleast 7 that claim him as their father, though not all biological. In Mali, and in most African cultures, when a man dies, his brothers will take his deceased brother’s wives and children for his own, so there’s a lot of “He’s my father, but my father died” going on. In descending order, according to age, my brothers here(sons of the dugutigi): Madu (lives in Bamako, so he’s not around much), Mahaman (the Muslim name, Mohammad. He, too, lives in Bamako, so I only see him on weekends when he comes to visit his wife, who lives across the street from us. He’s super cool and has drank with us at the bar), Sungalu (has 2 wives: Nana & Mai; they do the bulk of the cooking and cleaning and are more or less my mother figures here), Drisa (you’ve met him in earlier entries. I can’t write enough compliments about him), Sedu (has taken a while to warm up to me, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hate me), Koniba (made me a sweet shirt he made at his job in Bamako; he’s a tailor), Solo (my running buddy and also conversation partner. He’s also said on multiple occasions he wants to marry me. Sorry) and lastly Somila, who I walked in on in the nyegen after being here only a few days. It was super awkward, but I think we’re both past it. I temporarily forgot the courtesy clap before entering. Definitely didn’t happen again.  

Music jam sessions make me miss Marla. Talking about crappy TV shows with other Americans make me miss Steph. Drinking makes me miss Jamie. This whole experience really make me appreciate my friends and family back home and how loved I am, especially after getting back to internet access and seeing how many people are keeping up with me. Thank you all. You have no idea how much I love your seemingly random Facebook messages, wall posts, music updates, emails, and letters. Keep them coming.  

Last weekend, we went hiking in Niamana after biking there with some people from that village. On top of the mountain, overlooking the whole village and it’s beautiful scenery, Delissa, in all her profoundness: “I’m black and I didn’t expect Africa to be like this.” Hilarious.

3/9/11

Had our language evaluations yesterday afternoon, where Peace Corps Language Officials came in to sit down with us one-on-one to test our progress and rank us on the scale as follows: Novice Low, Novice Mid, Novice High, Intermediate, Intermediate Mid, Intermediate High, Expert Low, Expert Mid, Expert High. I ranked Intermediate Mid, which I was happy about, since that’s where you are required to be at before being placed at site in April. Meaning, I can kind of breeze by the next few weeks. Not that I have been really studying at all. Oops.

We find out our site placements today! Everyone’s super anxious/excited/nervous to find out where we’re going to be sent to for the next 2 years, especially to find out if we’ll be near the friends we’ve made so far or if we’ll be a 30 hour bus ride away from our buddies. I'll let you know soon. 3 1/2 days of internet access, fans, electricity, running water, and socializing with eachother. Wahoooooo. 

The title's for you, Mo.  

Obama Biscuits and Emergency Cups

Both can be found at your neighborhood butiki and I can proudly say that I have purchased both as well. Malians LOVE Obama. If they know one thing about America and can say one thing in English, it's Barack Obama. His face is on belt buckles, cookie wrappers, t-shirts mostly, and posters on people's walls. It's crazy. And as far as emergency cups go, just use your imagination, but I'm pretty sure I've made it very clear how terrifying the cockroaches are at night in the nyegen. Don't judge me; It's Africa.

2/24/11

We got to go through Bamako on the way back to homestays – a Health Education sector field trip to the malnutrition center there, lunch at an American restaurant (veggie burger WITH CHEESE and a milkshake), and also purchased a few essentials at the toubab store! (Where toubabs: Americans/Europeans/pretty much all white people in general can shop.) We got our bikes last night! You would have thought it was Christmas in Mountugula the way all the kids followed in a procession to watch us receive them. We were all so excited to be able to have some means of transportation other than our own two feet. We’re painting a mural on the wall of the CSCOM (health center) in our village tomorrow morning. Excited about that. 4 of us are doing a pro-hand washing-themed advertisement. Looks good on paper. We’ll see. Off to class. Yippee. Can sarcasm transfer to print?

 3/2/11

So we hit the one month mark today. Proud of us for making it this far atleast. Haven’t killed anyone yet; only bugs. Point for me. Subtract a point for Africa (excessive cockroaches in the nyegen.) Walking back from Hannah’s tonight, after drinking delicious tea Sally (her sister) made for us, and chatting with Drisa & Shaka (Hannah's bro), and singing “Happy Birthday” to Shaka in English, I had this overwhelming, albeit fleeting, feeling of “I love this. I only want to be right here, right now.” We find out our permanent sites a week from today. Holy shit. Excuse my French.

I bought some sweet fabric today for my outfit for swear-in. It’s a deep purple with gold leaves and gold detailing. Should be interesting attempting to convey my style preferences in Bambara to Jasmin’s mom, who’s making our outfits for us. Need to get our teachers to help me translate, “make me look fresh to death” into Bambara. Pictures to follow.

I’m literally sweating to death under my mosquito net. It’s so unbelievably hot here. Today in class, Jasmin looked over at me as I was pulling my sports bra away from my chest to air it out: sexy. Read Ktal’s letter after my nap today (the first one I’ve gotten here so far. Hint: WRITE ME LETTERS!) It literally made my day. Love American/PTC gossip. Keep ‘em coming, Tal. Going running with Solo & Hannah tomorrow morning again at 6 after it’s light enough to see the dusty road in front of me. Cross my fingers to not get attacked by the crazy, wild dogs on the way. Goodnight, moon.

Being Bipolar

2/9/11:

Crying into my pillow earlier today, I’m positive Nena could hear me, despite my back being to the door. The sounds of sniffling and stifled sobs are pretty universal.  My daily “freakout,” I like to call it.  I’m always okay for most of the day, but as soon as I let myself think too much, I’m not anymore. Today, like most days I assume I’ll have, is made up of highs and lows. Practicing my Bambara w/ my family after dinner & playing “Mun don?” or “What’s that?” is always fun. We laugh- or more accurately, they laugh at me, and I get by using my charades skills mostly. But I’m getting better. They think it’s funny when I make the noises that animals make to find out their names in Bambara. Lows: constantly being dirty, mosquito bites, flies everywhere, eating the same starchy foods every meal with only my right hand (no utensils), and missing home, mostly. As soon as I talk about my homesickness with someone, I feel better. Jasmin cried today, too. I feel like tears are going to be pretty common here, or at least among some of us. I still wonder, even if I do master the language and can manage to communicate well with the Malians, will I ever feel at home here? Happy here? Not be homesick? It’s daunting to think about 27 months and everyone keeps telling me not to, that you can’t look that far ahead, that one day at a time is all you can do. Damn my forward-thinking.

We bought cookies today at the butiki and I shared them with my whole family after dinner. I felt bad hoarding them. Am I Anne Frank or something? My host brother, Drisa, is super patient with me and is my Bambara teacher of sorts at my home/compound. Found out he’s thirty, though. Bummer. Black people age so well. Jealous. He’s also super cute.

I talked with Ashley about ET’ing, like I have a few times before with other people. My emotions are constantly changing here, so all I can say is- I’ll take it one day at a time. I am learning a lot about myself already and surprisingly: I’m less independent, less brave, less strong than I thought I was. I need people constantly, familiarity, to be social, not to be left alone for more than showering and sleeping…not yet atleast. My reactions to this whole situation seems to be different than most. Many people's frustrations seem to stem from inabilities to communicate. Language or not, I’m sad atleast part of every day. Who would have thought my biggest fear (besides rollercoasters and the dark, of course) would be what I’m trying to create here: change. 

2/11/11:

If I was Malian, I would totally date Drisa. He’s so patient with me and he’s adorable. My fam makes comments all the time about me liking him. It’s cute because he covers his face like he’s embarrassed. He probably is. I look like a hot mess 24/7 here. Nana told me tonight that I’m her friend. All I could say was “Awww” and “thank you.” She is absolutely beautiful. Not to quote an Usher song or anything, but she reminds me of a girl that I once knew…She also said she wanted to go to America with me and then I explained I’d be here for 2 years. Damn. There we go again. For some reason, days are pretty rough, but nights, I’m fine. I’m more than fine, actually. We always laugh and talk and joke around, mostly at my expense, but I totally don’t care. I understand a lot actually and surprisingly for how short of a time I’ve been here. Drisa breaking it down for me helps a ton and he seems to understand me somehow.

2/12/11:
Good day over all. Started out by doing laundry at the pump with a few of the girls from my village. The fam was super surprised I was going to actually hand wash my own clothes. I was like umm…I’m not an idiot. It was a little tricky, though. We ended up hitchhiking a ride in the back of a pickup truck to a neighboring village to hang out with some of the other volunteers there.  We ended up going to this bar (so fun) with couches and electricity and fans and tiled floors and a real toilet (I know!) It was so fun to see everyone. There were groups of people from 5 different villages there. We had drinks, danced a little, but mostly we talked about how much we needed this social interaction with Americans...in English. 

2/14/11:
And the best fam award goes to: mine. Tonight, Hannah, Ashley, and Jasmin all came over after dinner. First off, dinner was delish. They’re finally starting to realize what I do and don’t like. Although, that may not be a good idea since I’ve shown an interest in bread, potatoes, and rice. I’m gonna get so fat. Whatever, though. When in Africa, right? Malian drumming music is on the radio outside my door (loud) and the voices of my fam shouting over the steady, repetitive beat. Tonight, we finally all got up and danced and they all clapped to watch the white girl shake it. I’m starting to mind less and less that my ceiling is full of spiders and that there are cockroaches swarming in the nyugen where I go to the restroom. Happy Valentine’s Day, loves. Goodnight, Moon.

2/22/11:
Driving back to Tubaniso (the training site,) you would have thought we were either 1. arriving at our highschool reunion 2. checking in at the W or 3. returning home from war. We were SO excited to have internet, electricity (to charge our phones/ipods), and even the outdoor showers here. Mostly, we were ready to see eachother after a 12-day absence. They pampered us our first night back with Mexican food and you would have thought it was cheesecake the way I devoured it all. Skyping is among my many frustrations and challenging enough trying to compete with 62 other people for internet connection that is unreliable at best. God knows I can't handle technology...so please, be patient with my connectivity or lack thereof. I miss you all. I'm still alive, so that says something. Wednesday, we go back for 12 more days.  My host family said they were going to spend these 3 days crying. But then again, I probably misunderstood.  

Goodnight Moon

The title's for you, Jamie. I write that at the end of every journal entry I write in and I tell myself that you hear it, too.

Today we found out where we would be staying for homestays and what language we would be learning. Like most of us here, I'll be learning/speaking/dreaming in Bambara, which is what I expected, so I'm somewhat relieved. We've only had a few lessons so far, but atleast I can say hello and count to 10. Survival, right? We leave tomorrow morning and are going to be welcomed in our village by our host families. There's about 8 of us each going to each village and the villages are spread out about 5-10k apart. Should be interesting. Hopefully there's some cute Malian babies who want to play with my hair. We'll be there for the rest of training, only separated by the few days we come back here to training camp every 12 days or so.

Cultural festival yesterday gave us a chance to buy some sweet panyas (long wrap skirts) and the guys got outfits as well; pretty sure they'll never go back to wearing regular pants after wearing drawstring cloth ones for 2 years. They look super comfy. Pictures coming soon.

Each day is an emotional rollercoaster, but emails help (Thanks Mo, Mom, & Neely), as do YouTube videos of Pauly D's antics. Atleast there are a few people here who watch crap television like I do and we can bond over that. Excited for tomorrow. I'll be back in 12 days.

Goodnight moon.

Call out your names & I'll tell you what hut you're in.

Stepping off the plane, all 64 of us were surprised to see the removable stairs that led directly onto the runway. From airplane to pavement. The heat at 10pm was surprising, but 2 days later, it's cool and there's a breeze. Sleeping under a mosquito net and using the bathroom by squatting in a hole in the ground in a cement outhouse-like structure is interesting, to say the least, but it's refreshing. Like camping, but much more permanent. Our week here at Tubaniso -the training center is apparently luxurious compared to what we'll experience at homestays and later at our own sites: we have running water (though cold) in our outdoor showers, and electricity in the dining hall (though it goes out on occasion), which is where the internet is. Also, our water is purified for us and our food is prepared by staff. It's a lot like summer camp. We have iteneraries and daily sessions- immunizations after lunch, breaks in between language courses, etc. In a few days, we'll receive our cell phones (yay!) and have been told that texting the US is as cheap as twenty to thirty cents a text and receiving calls and texts for us is free. Pretty excited about that.
Our group of huts is the married people compound. 3 married couples are here and then theres our hut of 3 single gals. Everyone is bright eyed and curious, wondering what language we'll be assigned and to what region. Since I ranked "novice low"-the lowest French level possible, I will most likely be speaking Bambara, since it's spoken in the majority of the country, making travel for me easier. The pros at French will be taught a minority language and will have French to fall back on when travelling.
I'm still excited and no, I haven't freaked out  yet, but apparently that kicks in later, once we're alone in our village for the first time. Like many others, I prefer to be somewhat close to another volunteer and would LOVE if another volunteer was in my same village, though that's not common. There are more than a handful that want to be in isolation. I can't imagine.
So far, I'm journaling at night and pretty busy during the day, enjoying the company of everyone in our training group, who is made up of some pretty interesting, but surprisingly normal people. We're from all over, something I was excited for. Something annoying (a word of advice for new parents): every list and nametag has me as Patricia, so no one gets my name right. Everyone gets confused and wonders who Lauren is. Thanks Kim & Jeff.