TIA man, TIA

Where to even begin? I'm back at the training site for a few days until I take the public transportation (or the "green box of death" according to Gumbo) up to the Mopti region to check out my new digs for the next 2 years once I become an official PCV. I don't know much yet, but I will post plenty of information later when I return from Mougui (my new home!). Apparently I will be living in a "rock house"... I envision a castle surrounded bya a moat filled with nile nile crocodiles, spanned by a draw bridge hoisting giant waving flags... we'll see.

The last week in Sala was a trip. I had my first language test in Fulfulde and scored novice-high, which is apparently pretty good. I can communicate basic ideas, almost joke around, and get things that I need. I spend much of my time pointing at things and learning the names with the ids... they are definitely the most patient. I really can not wait until I have some sort of a basic understanding of the language.

Another tale from the nyeggan. I was taking my nightly bucket bath, which I have grown to love. It's really very calming when you're cleaning and methodically pouring warm water over yourself. Anyway, when you're in the nyeggan you are supposed to put something over the wall, that way other people will know that you are inside. Per usual, I put my shirt, my lacrosse shorts and my towel over the wall. Three red flags announcing that I am in there... and probably in my birthday suit. So I'm taking my bucket bath, splashing water around, soaping up, making some noise and I think I hear someone shuffling. I figure it was one of the 30 cows that live in my front yard and continue with my bath. I stand up, pour the water over my head, open my eyes and my host father's 65 year old uncle pops in and screams for his life! I thought I gave the poor man a heart attack from the pure white sheening off my birthdays suit. I gave him the full monty, and he was definitely more embarrased than I was! HAHAHA oh well... that's Africa! He should have seen my clothes hanging over the wall!

Moving on, it is very common for men to hold hands for extended amounts of time in Mali. Really extended amounts of time. The other day we all went to a ceremony for a man's father who had died 6 years ago. The man is always stopping by our language classes and saying hello in about 8 different languages. He calls me George Bush Jr for some reason, so I call him ATT (the President of Mali). It seems to work. He decided to give us a tour of his farm after the ceremony, took a bunch of pictures of us in front of different trees, and showed us all his land. After a while, he took me by the hand and lead me around for a good 30 minutes. The whole time he was laughing, smiling, saying things in French and Bambara that I had to repeat. It was akward. Anyway, I had a lollipop and was enjoying it, not realizng how goofy and socially akward this looked. Me being led by a Malian yb the hand while enjoying my lollipop. Finally, it all clicked and I broke down laughing in the middle of the field. He only held my hand tighter and laughed along! Everyone else started cracking up, Derick took a picture which I have yet to see, and we walked hand in hand all the way back to the language hut! This guy must have thought I was having a great time, but all I wanted was my hand back!

That's all for now... I'll write some more later.

By the way, I'm healthy woohoo!