I'm still in Douentza. To be honest, I am afraid to go back to village in this heat. At least here I can find cold water, drinks and ice. It was 117 degrees in the sun yesterday, and 102 degrees in the shade. This is only the beginning of the hot season. I was told to wait for the sandstorms, which bring a "powdered doughnut" effect. Apparently, you sit and sweat all day. Then a breeze comes to cool you off. But this breeze should not be welcomed, as it hails the beginning of a major sand storm. Your sticky, sweaty body is the perfect recepticle for all that flying sand. Hence, the "powdered doughnut" effect. I will go back to village today where I will find myself surrounded by rocks that collect heat and don't let it escape. I'm not sure if it's some sort of a heat hostage situation. What do the mountains have to gain from it? It's even hot at night now. There really is no reprieve from this heat during the hot season. I lay in my tent in a half sleep, sweating, praying a cool wind will pass by. It does, occasionally. The rains will be here in a few months, so I have something to look forward to. I haven't seen rain since September. When it finally returns, I promise to sit outside in the rain for as long as it falls.

I haven't been getting a lot of exercise lately and I put a few pounds back on when I was in Bamako. As I was greeting the guys from my village yesterday in Douentza, they were impressed with the little belly I acquired. They said, "You look so healthy and fat! You must have eaten such good food! Was there meat? Salad? Pasta? Rice? Did you drink coffee and eat bread EVERY day???" And then they proceeded to rub my belly and push in with their fingers. Needless say, it was wierd. But everything here is wierd, so I take it all in stride. I started to work out this week, too. I don't have any wieghts to lift, so I've made due with what I've got. Rocks! I searched around and found some rocks that seem to be evenly wieghted, and they're working out all right. Lots of pushups, situps and rock lifts. Hopefully the village guys won't push in my belly after a few weeks.

Talk about bed head! I woke up very surprised this morning.

What are you looking at? Fikru and I have been bored and trying to entertain ourselves in this heat. So, here we are being all bad ass and what not.

Look at all this sand in Douentza just waiting to be whipped up in a storm!

These women are outside my house everyday making oil for their hair. They start a small fire under the rock and press seeds and leaves over it to extract the oil. They massage it into their braided hair in order to keep the hair tight and close to their heads.

The oil goes into the plastic jar.

Life in Dimbatoro

At the base of the mountains that lie behind Dimbatoro is a stream where the villagers grow fruits, vegetables, wash clothes, and get drinking water. This photo was taken next to the stream. The kids love to hang out there, bath, play and pluck mangoes from the trees. Although the mangoes are not yet in season... we still have to wait a few more weeks... these kids used a little teamwork to reach up and grab the bitter green mangoes.

Here is the mosque in front of my house. It is made from mud bricks and covered with more mud. The large triangle in the back is made from mud and it's shape and height are achieved by layering mud and sticks. This building technique is common to the Sahelian Muslims. The small structure in front of the mosque is built low to the ground for two reasons. First, it offers shade during the majority of the day. And two, only men are allowed to hang out there. If an argument turns violent, the men can not stand quickly to fight. If they rise in anger, they will hit their heads and fall back down. Also, there are lots of mini pillars inside for both support and to stop swinging arms. Apparently their were a lot of fights in the past.

This is Boucari and he is the craziest, yet awesome, old man I have ever met. When I first arrived in village, my Fulfulde was definitely not up to par. One time I responded to a greeting with "baasi fuu wala" ...there are no problems... but I put too much emphasis on the "fuu" and he thought that was the funniest thing he's ever heard. To this day, we greets me with the fully emphasized "baasi fuuuuuu wala."

This picture was taken around 4pm in the gardens behind Dimbatoro. There are two old men facing east praying towards Mecca. They are in the shade of a tree, but you can see one kneeling and one standing. There is a good selection of vegetation in this photo. You can see manioc, baobab, mango, a papaya tree, and lemon trees in the background.

Here I am in the garden with my friend Amadu. We have the same name here in Mali, so we refer to each other as "toccara." This means "namesake." He was very excited to pose for the photo while standing next to a mango tree.

This is the main street in Dimbatoro. Once you enter into the village, this is the first thing you will see. Of course, there is the ever present donkey cart in the corner!

This is the original cereal bank in Dimbatoro. The roof caved in, so we're working on building a new grain storage house. If you haven't donated to my project, please go to http://www.peacecorps.gov/ to donate. You can click on "donate now" and then "donate to volunteer projects." My cereal bank project can be found under Mali, D. Munsell, MA, Agriculture, Cereal Bank, etc. As of today, I have received over $1200 of the total $2159 needed. We are well on our way to making this project a reality.

The mango collectors.

The stream where the majority of Dimbatoro's water needs are met. Kinda small, huh?

If you remember from a previous post, I went climbing up in Hombori in March. When I went to Bamako last week I got my hands on some pretty good pics from Jared's camera. The next two pics were taken from Jared's belay spot. He strung up a pendulum top rope and beleyed from a perch half way up the climb. Here I am just hanging in the balance.

I'm going up!

Still going up!

What I find amusing

This is Balo. He is a really good guy in my village that spends all day carving statues and other traditional Dogon arts. There are a bunch of guys in village that sit in this spot behind Tijani's house and carve all day every day. I enjoy sitting with them, talking about life in the village, drinking tea, and cracking jokes. Maybe one day I'll try my hand at the carving.

Here's Hama and Djugal playing cards at my house. They're playing 151, which I just recently picked up. It's a fun and simple game that helps to pass the time. Djugal is a bit of the cheat when he plays, so I have to keep him in line.

This little guy's name is Oumar and I made the mistake of teaching him to say "What up, buddy?" in a Pauly Shore kind of way back in August. I came back in September, and not only had he not forgot the greeting, but he had taught it to all of the other little kids. It's now April, and all the kids just love to scream "What up buddy?" EVERY single time they see me.

These are all unrippened mangoes that grow just outside my village. All day long, the youngest kids in the village run around collecting and eating the unrippened mangoes. It's kind of like their job. I was sitting up by the stream this day and the little kids just kept bringing me mango after mango after mango. I ate a few, but probably took a few layers off my teeth due to the acidic level of the mangoes. I now have no further questions regarding the whereabouts of the villagers' teeth.

Even after 9 months in Mali, not all of the day to day occurences have become mundane. Some things still make me smile, and sometimes laugh out loud! The other day I was walking down the street in Douentza when I noticed two old men strolling a good distance ahead of me. What was funny about the scene is that they were walking hand in hand (as friends here tend to do, and no, I am not immune to it). Their traditional musilim robes flowed in the wind behind their joined hands as they walked and laughed. What made the image priceless was the fact that they were both holding onto flowery, frilly umbrellas straight out of the 1920s. It's not that it rains here. I still haven't seen rain since September and don't expect it until July, but the umbrellas definitely help to shade the sun. In American culture, this would turn heads, but here it is the norm. Other American head turning activities that are normal here include the interlocked fingers, the "icky" finger, sitting on your male friends lap (i'm not that integrated here!), men holding each other around the waist, etc. It's a very different culture here.



Because cars are few and far between in Mali, most people that can afford their own private transportation choose motorcycles. They are cheap and easy to maintain. But how much can you actually fit on a motorcycle? A lot! Have you seen those Michellin tire commercials with the guy made out of tires? Malians have perfected the art of riding motorcycles with up to 3 tires around their waists (depending on how tall he is), and smaller ones on their arms. On numerous occasions, I've even seen up to 4 people on on moto here. But what about this goat I just bought? How do I bring him all the way back to village? Tie him up and strap him to the back of the moto. One guy actually tied a sheep to his shoulders and rode back because he had another passenger on the back of the moto!



On my way to Koyra, a local market town a few km from my village, I came across a group of Fulfani herders on their way west. One of the younger herders wanted to greet me, so we started walking over. The Fulfani (Peuhl) are the traditional cow herders of West Africa. They lead a relatively nomadic lifestyle compared to many of the other local ethnicities. The man walked over to me in his long green and yellow robe, turbaned head and flip flop shoed feet. Although he was young, he had a small scruffy beard, which means he had probably recently taken his first wife. Like many of the traveling Fulanis, he had a radio tied around his neck. We greeted each other in a very respectful manner, but I could hardly contain my laughter. Despite all of the formalities and manners, I just couldn't get over the 50 Cent - "In da Club" blasting from his radio! Yes, much of the traditional culture has been saved here in Mali, but you can't deny that Western culture is making a pretty big impression over here.



As long as you use your left hand, picking your nose is fine in Malian culture. There are just way too many occasions where I find myself speaking with a Malian friend, stranger, prominent community member, etc, when that left hand just reaches up and begins to dig. Do I look away? Do I offer a tissue? Where's he gonna flick that thing? It's huge! The left hand is the dirty hand, and there are really no limits to what you can do with it. Due to the extreme dust here, people often have stuffy noses. The left hand makes a great tissue. Just reach up, cover the nose, blow, wipe it on the closest wall, tree, animal, and you're done! What really kills me is that, despite the left hand being the dirty hand, people will still clasp your hands with both of theirs, walk hand in hand left to right, touch everything in site, etc. The left hand is also used for cleaning yourself after going to the bathroom. Sadly, soap is overrated in Mali, and plain water is the preferred method of cleanliness. I've come to the conclusion that Mali is just covered in snot and feces. Wonderful.