Rock and Roll Mali

Abadika tiimude

2009-07-22T02:56:00.009-05:00

After a trip back to the US, I am at square one again. My interview with the State Department did not go as planned. I did not make the cut off score. If I decide to apply for the Foreign Service, it will entail taking and passing the written exam, passing the qualifications panel again and then being invited to another interview/assessment. That's another year long process. Considering I need a job ASAP, the Foreign Service is going to be put on the backburner. My deams of being a diplomat are going to have to wait while I explore other career options.

But, hey, I'm back in Mali and happy to be here (except for the flys and mud. I enjoyed being in the States for ten days and I just want to say thank you to Drew and Pat for your hospitality. Everything rocked. Also, thanks Dad, Mom, and Mike for coming down to see me. And lastly, thank you Grandma, Grandpa, Grandma and Papa. You really have no idea how much I appreciate you coming down for the surprise visit. I'll never foget it it. Thank you so much for your support!

Yes, America was awesome. I ate an insane amount of good food, went kayaking, saw old friends, spoke with lots of friends on the phone (I was back on the grid!), saw some great films, went to an outdoor shooting range, saw the museums and monuments of Washington, DC, and just really enjoyed being and American in America.

Here's to Peace Corps in America! Susmita, Derek, Ariel and I were hanging out with my brother Mike in DC. Can you believe he is still smiling even after buying us that round of ten dollar beers?

I finish up Peace Corps on September 4. That leaves me with about 7 weeks to say my goodbyes and do everything I have wanted to do since I arrived 2 years ago. I am hoping that I can go up to Hombori one last time after my friend Dan gets back from his trip to France. It won't be an epic climb like the one in March, but more or less just a chance to improve my lead climbing and technical skills. It's amazing that I have had the opportunity to learn to climb at such an incredible spot that is so far off the climbing radar.

As for post Peace Corps plans, I really have no idea what I will be going for. I have been researching jobs online and find myself constantly drawn to the field of public affairs. I enjoy being in the public and working as a laisson between multiple parties. If I can find a job in public affairs that works internationally, I'll be set. As I am young, I am ready for anything and will go anywhere. If I learned one thing while being in the States, it's that I am not necessarily ready to be there for long. I like to be away. There is always that mystery and excitement that surrounds me when I am abroad. I feel a need to be lost and emerged in another culture. Being gone for so long, I almost feel at home when I am away. In the taxi coming from the airport in Bamako, the driver turned down back roads to avoid traffic. Passing by an artisan shopping district that I hadn't been to since January, a Malian man yells out to me in Fulfulde, "Hey! Fulani guy! Where have you been? I haven't seen you in a long time!" I laughed and yelled "America, my friend!" I am very happy to be back here. I love the adventure and the connections I make with people.

After September 4, I'll most likely be taking a trip to Ghana with my friend Braxton before heading home. We'll see how long it takes before I begin my next adventure post Peace Corps homecoming. Here's Braxton and I hanging out (being kinda goofy) at a local hotel in Sevare about 2 or 3 weeks ago. Here's to more adventures in Ghana!

Bits

2009-06-29T13:07:00.003-05:00

After a week of pulling a donkey through the fields to help get them plowed for rainy season, I understand, completely, the concept of the stubborn donkey.

I left village this afternoon and am preparing to go back to the States for the Foreign Service Oral Assessment. I am excited, nervous, apprehensive about getting back into America after two years, but most of all, I am ready for this interview. I have been in the application process since October and can't wait for the biggest, most difficult part. By passing the test and being accepted by a qualifications panel, I have proven, on paper, that I've got what it takes to be an FSO. Now, it is time to put on my game face and show them what I can do in real life.

Anyway, I don't want to bore you with thoughts on where I am heading in life, so on to something a little more interesting.

Here are some random recent conversations from Mali...

Dan - Where is Amadou? The guy that owns the other bar. He hasn't been there in months.

Malian - Oh, he is on vacation.

Dan - Where to?

Malian - To prison.

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Sitting on a roof top chatting while we re-mud the roof and sides of the building before rainy season hits. I feel something sharp jabbing into my arm from behind me and turn around...

Dave - Demba! What are you doing with that knife? Stop poking me!

Demba - I am seeing if you are plastic. You might be.

Dave - Plastic? No, I am definitely a real person. Am I not breathing now?

Demba - No, you are. But there are plastic white people. You think they eat, drink and breath. But, they are not real. They are plastic. I have seen them in the Douentza market.

Dave - Really! Stop poking me! I am definitely not plastic. That is ridiculous!

Demba - Ok, I think you're real. You are a "child of Adam." There is water inside of you. You see, the plastic white people come here for two or three years, and, when their batteries run out, they go back to America to get them recharged. Sometimes they come back. But you, yes, you are a real person.

Dave - I am happy we could have clarified that one.

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This story might be inappropriate for younger readers... watch out.

There is a 8-year old boy with Down's Syndrome (SP?) in my village and he lives next door to me. His name is Abbadina (Fulfulde for father of religion) and he is awesome because of the antics he gets into all of the time. Leaving my house with Mousa and Ousman, I was the third to exit the compound. The two of them immediately start laughing and jumping up and down while pointing as they get out the door. Wondering what it could be, I rush out to join in the fun. Abbadina has this little five year girl bent over a rock and he is pretending to have sex with her from behind! As soon as he sees us laughing at him, he turns around and gives us a "Hail Hitler-esque" salute, beaming and smiling. It didn't seem to phase him that we had caught him in the act, but the little girl took the chance to run as fast as she could away. I am guessing that Abbadina caught his idea from all the animals engaged in carnal activities throughout the village. Hopefully the little girl isn't scarred for life.

I'll rack my brain over the next few days to come up with some more real life anecdotes from life in Mali. Rock and roll kids.

Some videos from site

2009-06-19T10:15:00.005-05:00

Always a mix of work and fun in Mali

2009-05-15T10:35:00.008-05:00

Hot season is back again and in full swing. When in village, I have been spending much of my time lounging in the gardens by the stream with friends. There isn't much work to be done at this seasonal point, so we mostly sit around, make tea, eat mangos until we drop, and, eventually fall asleep from heat exhaustion in the middle of the day. It's not a bad life.

My most recent work development has been a collaboration between the local mens' and womens' associations in village. We received a large quantity of mosquito nets to help prevent malarial mosquitos from biting people during the wet season (coming within in the next few months so get ready!) and sold them at a reduced rate. In Douentza, a mosquito net sells for 1,500 CFA (about $3.00). After receiving the nets, the associations sold them at the reduced rate of 500CFA (About $1.00). This was beneficial for multiple reasons. First, the associations receive capital that they can apply to future projects; It gets them on their feet. Second, it discourages the act of gift giving from NGOs, toubabs, etc. The villagers are benefiting because they are actively choosing to spend a small amount of their hard earned money on an extremely useful product (at a reduced price). It is essential to sleep under a mosquito net, and now the people have much easier access to them. It is important to discourage the practice of gift giving because people tend to disrespect and underappreciate gifts. If a product (like a net) is given away free of charge, it is generally not well taken care of. But, if someone chooses to spend his money on that net, he will tie it carefully, patch holes, and use it for its intended purpose. Everyone wins.

You may be thinking, did people just buy a large quantity and sell them in market for product? The answer is no. We made sure each household received no more than they needed. Last week we collected demands for more nets and were able to purchase more for round two of the sales. The village of Dimbatoro is extremely grateful for the access to nets and thanks my mom's coworkers for their extreme generosity.

What is even more important is that I worked with the associations to hold an informational session on how to properly use a mosquito net and to teach the benefits of using one. This ensured that the mosquito nets will be used effectively to prevent malaria in the upcoming rainy season (July – September 2009) and beyond. I had each participating member help tie the net and even had some guys demonstrate how to and how not to lie under the net. As it was an easy concept, it was fun to get across and we laughed at the simplicity of the nets. After the session, members of the mens' association went out to all the houses in village, taught the households how to use a mosquito net, and then sold each one. They were cleaned out within a day. We did give 5 mosquito nets away to the older and more prominent community members such as the local religious leader, the chief, my host family elder and the two oldest community members.

Tah Ongoiba, apparently 120 years old (I would say about 80), with his mosquito net.

Thanks from Manpaiga, the mens' association!

Tijani and Ousman telling the village chief about the benefits of using a mosquito net when sleeping.

Checking out the new nets.

Learning how a mosquito net is tied correctly

Ousman and I teaching the oldest woman in village about her new net

Djougal demonstrating how to lay in a fully tucked and tied mosquito net with the men

Unrelated to the nets, here is Demba crushing rocks to pave the road leading to his house

Demba and Yaya working on the road

Ishiaka's awesome Bob Marley dogon shirt

This last week was spent at our COS (Close of Service) Conference in Bamako. It was held to inform PCVs on the procedures for leaving, what benefits we're entitled to and to prepare us for life after Peace Corps. I found out that I will be finished up with Peace Corps on Sept. 4, 2009 and then it's home free (until the next big adventure, of course). I will be making a brief trip to Washington, DC from July 4 - 15 for the Foreign Service Oral Assessment (interview). I bought my ticket today and I can't wait to get there. I have been speaking with embassy officials in Bamako over the last week in order to prep for the interview and receive advice from seasoned pros. I will be having an informational lunch with the DCM and a a few FSOs on Monday and hope to learn quite a bit about the interview and embassy life from them. I feel very confident now that I am getting everything lined up and can't wait for the next step.

On that note, here is the remaining group of Mopti volunteers I came with. We're down to only 8 from the original 16. But, we're just that much more awesome now that we've made it two years.

One last climbing trip?

2009-04-01T05:55:00.011-05:00

Yea rock climbing!

The last week was spent in Hombori again for, quite possibly, my last climbing trip here. Sad as it may be, my time it running out rather quickly. I have been invited to the Foreign Service Oral Exam (the final test/interview before I find out if I will be hired as a Public Diplomacy Officer) on July 10 in Washington DC. It is a strange feeling knowing that I will be leaving Mali in under three months. Speaking with friends in village, they are both happy for me and sad that I will be gone. It is good to know that I have something to look forward to when I leave and I am excited to see all of my family and friends back home, but it is dissapointing to think about all of the connections and friendships I have made here that I will not be able to continue. I take comfort in the idea that I will be able to call friends in village on Sundays when they go into Douentza for market (the beauty of Skype!), but it is just not the same as actually sitting, joking, making tea and sharing in life with them. Perhaps I will be lucky enough to return here one day in the not-too-distant future.

With a date set to be in the States, I am rallying to finish up all of my projects, do everything I have wanted to do here and enjoying the remainder of my time with both Peace Corps and Malian friends. I will write up the final report on the cereal bank project soon (there is still one receipt that I am waiting on) and hold an educational session on proper mosquito net usage in village next week. Thanks to my mom's coworkers, we received funding for mosquito nets to be sold at a highly reduced rate in village. The nets were bought for roughly$3 a piece, and we'll be selling them for about $0.50 each. I am opposed to just giving the nets away because they will be underappreciated and I also don't want to continue the practice of gift giving in Mali. If people buy the nets with their own earned money, they will have a greater appreciation for the nets and will take better care of them. If given a gift, they may sell them, use them for fishing nets, turn them into ropes to tie up their animals with, etc. Selling the nets will be more effective. Plus, the money that is recycled back in will go to both the men's and the women's associations. They will use this money to fund projects such as garden seed dispersal and tree planting campaigns (to counteract the effects of desertification in the Sahel and to improve soil quality in the fields...two for one woohoo!).

Back to Hombori... We had some pretty gnarly and crazy climbs. They were the most intense and difficult I have done so far. I spent 5 days at the Hand of Fatim with Jared, Chris and Dan. We climbed on the blocks and also set up multipitch climbs on 3 of the 5 fingers. The best day was the last. We woke up at 3:30am to escape the heat of the day for the two hour hike to the base of the climb. It's hot season now, so the temperature rounds off at about 110 degrees midday. Fun, huh? I got up real early, made a quick cup of coffee and had to fend off a giant scorpion that was patrolling around my climbing gear. It eventually ran off and I was able to get my gear ready. We put on our headlamps and began the hike. About 30 minutes in, we ran across a young brown and yellow snake in the path (probably poisonous, but we didn't get close enough to find out). Jared snapped a few photos and we moved on once the snake cleared out of our way. The sun was just rising when we set up the first of 4 pitches. Jared lead climbed, but it was still too dark to climb w/o his headlamp. I belayed him up, he set the anchor and then I belayed me up, followed by Chris. The perch was tiny, and we didn't think one could be any smaller. We were mistaken. After the next pitch (about 60 meters up), we ended up on a completely exposed perch barely big enough for three sets of feet. It's a good thing we had so many locking caribeeners and slings! By 8:30am, we had made it to the top of the fourth pitch, hiked around to the gap between the first and second finger and attempted to set up a slack line for Jared to walk across (crossing a gap 200 metters above the ground!), but the wind proved too much. Jared tried to get up on the rope, but was blown over by the wind and became entangled in his support ropes. No worries, though. He untangled and brought himself back to the solid rock. You can check out a few of the better pictures from the trip below. Enjoy! I may end up in Hombori for a few more days in late May or early June, depending on work here. I would definitely like to spoil myself one more time by climbing at such an epic location.

A giant griffin bird flying high above Hombori at the Hand of Fatim. It's wingspan is wider than I can spread my arms.

The longest pitch of the climb called Black Mamba (intimidating name).

Hanging on and rockin the touba laah (not a skirt, more or less a giant square of fabric sewn together with leg holes... funny looking, but awesome pants for hot season).

Jared bouldering in shadow mode in front of Suri Tondo and Wanderdu (the rocks in the background).

Jared pulling a Peter Pan move across the slack line that he attempted to walk across. Too bad for the wind.

Up and at 'em I go.

Jared belaying Chris up from the top of the fourth pitch the last day. We're up real high... about 450-500 meters).

Chris entertaining us with a cover of Bright Eyes - First Day of My Life

Chris plays guitar while Jared plays rock. I had fun with the camera.

Here is the vicarious perch from our climb the last day. Not much room to hang out. Jared even had to keep one foot up.

2009-03-03T09:11:00.004-05:00

I apologize in advance for not writing a ton about the last few weeks, but they were awesome. I went to the West African International Softball Tournament (WAIST) in Dakar, Senegal. Peace Corps Mali rolled up with about 25 volunteers. About 300 other volunteers from The Gambia, Senegal and Mauritania showed up, as well as other international organizations and schools. We didn't win a single game, but that is no matter. We all had a ton of fun, got some good plays in, and got to hang out with hundreds of other Americans all in it for the same reasons.

I'm up at bat in our second game on the first day... we actually did come close to winning this one.

Dan is bear-hugging Pete after making a great catch for the third out of the inning.

After the tournament, I headed south to a town called Popenguinne (still in Senegal) and spent three days/two nights in a rented beach house with about 20 other PC Mali volunteers. It felt great to go swimming and spend time on the beach. I also went for a hike into a national park on the shore with a another volunteer named Adelle... actually we started out three strong, but one girl bailed when we had to check in with the "headmaster" of the park. She thought we were going to get into trouble, but the guy just wanted to know who was in his park. He then informed us that there is a PC volunteer that works at the park, but was away for a fruit drying formation. So, this guy gets a national park on the beach with all the fresh seafood he can ask for while I am stuck in Mali sweating among the toh-eaters.

Here is the view of the beach from atop the national park cliffs.

Speaking of seafood, I woke up early one morning and headed to the beach. As I was wandering around, these guys came to shore and started selling their morning catch. I bought a few dollars worth of fish to bring back up to my friends. Then, this guy comes up to me with a squid and says it's only a dollar. I bought it, figuring if we couldn't determine how to cook it, we could always just give it away. Anyway, Lindsay, who went to school in Indiana, somehow learned to dissect and cook squid in her high school biology class. She sauteed it in garlic/onion butter... it was wicked good.

Here's my dollar squid

While in Popenguinne, I decided to travel further south to The Gambia. When I went to the internet cafe to inform the Peace Corps of my changing travel plans, I received an e-mail from the State Department. The e-mail contained my Qualifications Panel results letter, and I passed! So, I need to be in America by June (most likely) for the interview, which is the last step in the hiring process.

With that incredible news, I headed to The Gambia on a high note and had a great time. I traveled with 4 other Mali PCVs and we ended up being a really cohesive travel group. Our mantra was, "We're just feathers... we're going wherever." In The Gambia, we stayed at the Transit house in Banjul (the capital) for a few nights. My friend from PC Mali, Ted, who now works in PC Gambia met us there and we hada open pit BBQ chicken night. We cooked up with chicken while some other people cooked up veggies and pasta inside.

Ted flipping the chicken

I'm making sure the chicken is cooked through.

The chicken is almost done and we're enjoying Julbrew... the local beer, which is also the best beer in all of West Africa... it tastes almost like Heineken.

After Banjul, we went to Paradise/Coconut Island for two nights and spent some more quality time on the beach. After being among tons of people for 2 weeks, it was nice to get away and have the beach to ourselves. After the island, we headed back to Mali. We high-tailed it for 2 days of intense travel and arrived in Bamako looking pretty haggard after sleeping on the side of the road, not showering, and eating very little along the way. All in all, completely worth it. This was probably the best vacation I have ever been on and wonder if I'll ever top it. But, I'm heading out of Bamako now and going north. Hopefully I will be back in village by Thursday morning. Then on to more rock climbing adventures, maybe a trip to Ghana in May and hopefully America in June.

Hombori pics

2009-01-20T17:10:00.003-05:00

Karate on the top of the finger

A little standing action

Watching Jared lead climb the second pitch

We climbed to the top of the fat finger on the right. There is one more finger out of frame. Hombori is seriously awesome.

Travel with the Family and Toubab Weddings in Mali

2009-01-19T05:12:00.007-05:00

The last month has been an adventure. My parents and sister showed up for a visit that lasted a little over two weeks. I did my best to keep them comfortable and safe, but this is Mali. They all ended up sick and my mom even sprained her ankle the night before our scheduled hike through Dogon country. All in all, it was awesome having them here. From now on I will be able to share my life and experiences from Mali with full understanding from my family. As much as I have changed and grown here, they will now have a better grasp of how and why it has occurred.

When they first arrived, we took a early morning bus from Bamako to Sevare. The ride was a little over ten hours, which I thought was great timing. Apparently it wasn’t so good for the family. They swore off public transport for the rest of the trip after that ride. We stayed in Sevare for a night and awoke early the next morning to drive to my village. We spent some a few days in village which was marked by drumming, gun firing, dancing, singing, animal slaughtering, many miscommunications and lots of laughing! When we arrived, the entire village came out to the main road to greet us with their drums, guns and finest clothes. My mom brought lots of gifts for the kids, but she now fully understands why you don’t bring gifts to Africa. The kids rioted, broke everything, hit each other violently and cried relentlessly. They would rather have a broken gift in their own hands than see an intact gift in a friend’s hand.

After village, we hired a 4X4 and drove from Douentza down to Sangha on sand track road that was similar to Sandy Neck. The difference was that we were surrounded by rock spires, Fulani herders and staggering cliffs as opposed to sand dunes, piping plovers and the ocean. In Sangha, we met up with about 30 other Peace Corps Volunteers for a hike. Hilary became deathly ill, my mom sprained her ankle and my dad decided the hike wasn't really for him. The three of them hired a car to drive back to Sevare and recuperate while I hiked on with the group. They pampered themselves in Sevare at the Ambadjali hotel while I camped on rooftops and climbed over mountains for three days. It was some of the most fun I had had in a long time, but I only wish I could have shared it with the family. Mom never would have made it around those ledges, up the Dogon ladders and over the mountains on her ankle. In the end, it worked out. I had my adventure and they all relaxed and got healthy. I arrived back in Sevare and found them happy, safe and healthy (well, almost!) at the hotel.

We spent the next few days back up in Douentza for New Years with more PCVs and had a blast. New Years was spent among good folks in a great place with drinks and dancing had by all at the Tango Tango and later at a high school dance (of all places). We had our own Malian dance circle, yet completely lacked Malians. I think they may have been blown away, and maybe a little intimidated, by our white-guy dance skills.

The trip ended in Bamako and I ate pizza (which is huge news in the world of Dave). We took a guy from my village, Amadou Kassambara, another PCV (Jenny) and a Fulbright Scholar (Laura) out to lunch with us and it was an extremely interesting experience. I usually eat with Amadou’s family in village, so I figured it would be fun to see how he would react to eating with my American family. We went out to a relatively nice restaurant with American-type food. At first, he refused to come into the restaurant until I dragged him in. Sitting at the table, he would not look at the menu because the prices were well above his income level. I had to explained to him that as an American Peace Corps volunteer, I had the unique opportunity to live with his family, eat what they eat, share in their culture, become Malian, etc. I explained to him that it was now his turn to become a Malian PCV and experience the life and culture of an American family. I told him not to worry about the prices, as this is how we eat when there is a large gathering of family and friends. I explained that the day was a special occasion because it was the last meal my parents would have with me for almost a year. This eased his tensions a bit and helped him to understand the meal. He reluctantly let me order his meal. The restaurant was out of rice and sauce, cous-cous, fried rice…basically anything that would be remotely familiar to him. I landed on Chinese rice. He gets this dish in front of him and it’s a huge pile of rice, veggies and meat. To top it all off, it’s got a giant omelette laid over the top. Amadou is sitting there, poking at it, examining it, wondering what move to take next. Taking his fork, what my homologue (his uncle) calls an “American hand,” he poked, prodded and finally began to eat slowly. I gave Amadou some pizza, which was an entirely new concept to him, and I think he almost like it. He said, “Oo ana welli seeda tan.” (It’s only a little good). We finished the meal off with ice cream, another first for Amadou. I can’t imagine being 21 years old and having ice cream for the first time. His only comment was that it hurt his teeth, but I do think he liked it despite the tooth pain. I was sympathetic to Amadou because he felt out of place eating with us, did not understand our culture and didn’t know how to react to everything. But, as I have been doing this in his culture for 18 months, I will admit to taking a slight bit of pleasure from his discomfort. I did my best to keep him engaged in conversation and to explain everything to him, but now I know we share a similar bond in transcending cultures.

Anyway, the fam made it back home and life is back to what I can almost call normal here. Two of my friends, Kevin and Rachel, were married in Hombori last Thursday. We all arrived in Hombori for three days of rock climbing and marriage ceremonies. It definitely was an experience to remember. The ceremony was beautifully crafted, well organized and in the most amazing setting I can imagine. The Hand of Fatima laid out the background for the wedding, as well as for the rock climbing afterwards!

I went up climbing with Jared, Chris and Eryn the day after the wedding and was finally able to summit one of the fingers. We began after lunch, hiked up and around the base of the short/wide middle finger, scrambled up some large rocks and set the first pitch. Jared lead climbed and set down three ropes for us. He belayed me up first, followed by Chris and Eryn at the same time. I scrambled up to a higher ledge and set my rope in the anchor. Jared lead climbed again and made it to the top of the second pitch. It was a good sport climb up a well defined crack that he set with cams. I followed Jared up and had to unset the cams from their cracks. The wind began to pick up, which was a little unsettling considering I was hundreds of meters off the ground. The second pitch was long and took me to a good point where I was able to scramble the rest of the way to the top. I found the highest point, climbed on top of it and let out a huge whoop, as I had finally conquered one of the fingers.

The descent was ridiculously scary, I will give you that. Jared set up a rappel from a ledge on a different side of the finger. At this point, the sun was just about down and the wind, the harmattan wind, was blowing at full force between two fingers. I kept envisioning myself being blown from the face of the rock to the ground below. Finally, I strapped myself into an anchor with a sling and my heartbeat slowed considerably. Easing along the ledge, I got my belay device hooked into the rope and began my descent. I went down a few meters to the bottom of the ledge and then swung down into open space with no rocks to rest my feet on. It was me, the rope and a few pieces of metal holding my weight as I dangled about 50 feet above the closest thing to rock. My belay device kept jamming on the way down and the rope was heavy with wind drag. As the device would jam, I would smack it to allow the rope through. With the smack, I would freefall a few feet before the device caught again. With each fall, my heart jumped to my throat. You quickly learn to trust your equipment and the people you climb with. Making it through the free space hang, I found myself descending along a steep pitch. At least there was somewhere to kick my feet to, if only for mental security! I made it to the bottom of the rope and was completely tired out. We all took off our harnesses and climbing shoes, high fived, ate cookies and got ready for the hike down. The sun was gone and it was cold. We put on our headlamps and hiked for about an hour to the base. On the way, we spotted a wild hedgehog and some rock hopping mammals that look like giant mice/rats/hogs/whatever you want them to be. The climb rock and I am so ahppy to have finally made it to the top of one of the fingers. Hopefully there will be more climbing in the near future. That was the most badass experience of my life so far.

The wedding band

The guys with Kevin

The married couple with rocks in the background as the sun sets.

All of the guests at the wedding in Hombori

The newly wed couple, Kevin and Rachel Belida, with Ted marrying them off.

Just another day of work in the Peace Corps!

Tabski Festivities

2008-12-19T06:51:00.006-05:00

I spent the Tabaski/Eid festivities in both Douentza and Dimbatoro this year. The parties began on Monday in Douentza, where they apparently had a better glimpse of the moon than the brousse villages. Antony, another PCV, came up and we ate until we were stuffed. Our neighbors, especially Sira Cisse, were bringing over entire roasted goat legs, racks of lamb, widjula (steamed bread with an oily meat sauce, rice dishes and various snacks all day. Basically, the streets ran red with blood due to the sheer number of animals slaughtered for the fest. If you are a married man, you are supposed to kill a fattened sheep. If you are short on cash, a goat will work. Slaughtering a cow is apparently good for up to seven people (the equivalent of 7 sheep). Being unmarried and non-muslim, I was exempt from the ritual animal slaughtering. Although, I did buy a hefty goat to eat when my parents and Hilary arrive in village next Monday.

On Tuesday, Antony and I picked up our engorged stomachs and headed out to my village for another day of festivities, eat meating and tea drinking. Because my village is so small, it is really like one big family. Each house is like just another room in a large family house. If we had a pool table in the basement and a football game going on in the living room, it would be just like Grandma and Papa's house on Thanksgiving. We arrived in village and were promtly given a steaming bowl of zame, fried tomato rice with dried fish, "fresh" fish and meat. Despite the fishiness, it was slightly edible. After teh zame, we followed the men out to the fields were they pray. The Al Iman led prayers for an hour and offered his many blessings to the village for a prosperous new year, health to friends family and everyone, etc. As would be expected, the village men all showed up late, the kids fired off their mock guns during the prayers and complete disorganization ensued. The best part was watching Djougal scream at the kids for being disrespectful during the prayers... it is similar to taking unruly kids to Catholic church, but on a much grander scale. The rest of the day was spent wandering and greeting from house to house as the animals were slaughtered, drinking tea and eating grilled meats loaded with MSG powder (tastes great, but I often wonder how my blood pressure is doing).

On Wednesday, Antony and I went hiking into the mountains with Tijani and had a great view of the surrounding areas. Cold season is amazing here because we are actually afforded the opportunity to view the beautiful landscape and not sweat to death. As ususal, I scrambled to the top of the mountain as fast as I could to get a great view. Antony and Tijani lagged behind. I climbed so much faster and higher than they did that they couldn't even get my attention screaming; I gave them a good scare. But I finally caught a glimpse of them from my perch up top and quelled their fears with a big wave and poking fun at how slow they were.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings, here are some pics of the fun with explanations.

Djougal holding up a freshly peeled goat skin as I tend to the roasting meat.

This is my host family (Jah Tigi). They slaughterd three goats, one sheep and a cow.

Here, Al Hadji (His real name is Gibreel, but he made the Hajj pilgrimage to Mecca in 2000 to obtain his title) is slaughtering a goat as two other guys help to hold it down.

Rocks and mountains behind my village

Antony is standing on one of the rocks mid-frame. You can make out his green shirt.

Here's Antony after drinking some chobal. His face shows the obvious displeasure with the sour taste. Chobal can be fermented into millet beer. As my village is Muslim, they only ferment it enough to make it sour.

These are some women and children helping to prepare food for the festivities.

Ousman, a neat little kid

Firing guns in the town square

Post-prayer walk back from the fields to the village

I am wearing a traditional Fulani hat and carrying a cow-beating stick (saure)

More gun firing directly after the prayers

And even more gun firing

Why not one more gun firing picture...

Dogons love their guns... No bullets, just as much powder as they can cram into them. You'll occasionally see guys with bits of fingers blown off. Guess why.

Al Imam, Youssef, leading the prayers with the Muezzin, Oumar, holding an umbrella for shade.

Mamadou is the guy with the umbrella. He is an awesome guy in village.

These are the guys heading out to the fields to pray in the morning. The guy directly in front of me is Moussa. His house is right next to mine and he rocks. He's got a little kid, Abadeena, with down syndrome. He's a fun little guy, but I feel so bad for him because there is no structure in place to help kids like him. The village looks after him very well.

I'm dressed like a real Fulani.

Same attire, minus the hat and stick.

My continuing Malian adventure

2008-10-29T10:06:00.004-05:00

The last few weeks have been extremely productive in terms of getting work done and making things happen. But, this is Mali, so there are the normal, everyday obstacles to get over. In addition to the time being productive, an equally applicable word would be frustrating. We held the formation for cereal bank management over the course of three days and conveyed a lot of important information and work. The biggest obstacle in running the formation has been to get over the education barrier. The committee running the cereal bank consists of 7 village men. Three of them are literate and semi-educated, but even that can be a stretch. I have had my first lesson in non formal adult education. In the States, we tend to take lower education for granted and see it as a give in. But here, it is not always possible for kids to go to school and learn the basics of alphabetization and mathematics. The main problem lies in the fact that there is just too much work to be done when you’re stuck in a cycle of subsistence living. If the boys go to school, then there is no one to go out and herd the animals to ensure they are fed properly, watered and don't stray. There will not be enough hands in the fields, either. As for the girls, they gather fire wood, take care of the babies, prepare food and help with general upkeep of the family compound. Schooling is put on the back burner; the kids grow up without knowledge of the outside world and without a formal education. The cycle of subsistence living continues. In my village there are very few children who attend school regularly. As for the few kids that do go to school, it is not their primary concern. The children that are able to attend school are from the bigger families that have enough younger kids to work the fields, herd the animals and take care of the homes. But, if some of these younger children are sick and can’t take care of their responsibilities, the students must stay home from school and take over the work.

Amadou as the teacher

The formation was held to teach the basics and the importance of record keeping. We scheduled the formation for 2 consecutive nights and hoped they would run smoothly. We planned to start at 9pm. By this time, everyone has completed the fifth prayer moment of the day, taken their nightly bath, and eaten dinner (In’sh’Allah). That’s what I thought, at least. I show up at 8:30pm. Everyone else shows up by 10:30pm. There are the usual excuses of forgetfulness, the completion of tea making, run away animals, etc. Eventually we get going and all is well. Amadou taught the lessons in Najamba, the local dialect, and would then go over the important details in Fulfulde to allow my input. My role in the lessons has been to provide examples, make sure people understand the work and to give specialized math tutoring on the side. This has proved difficult, but it’s going. I gave the guys one problem and split them into two groups. I said, a man shows up to the cereal bank and wants to buy six 100kg sacks of millet. The cost per sack is 12,500 CFA. How much is the total? After nearly an hour of deliberation, the two groups had somehow meshed into one and had come up with a grand total of 10,750 CFA. How they got that total cost, which is less than the cost of one sack, I am still not sure. I do have my work cut out for me.

The cereal bank assosiation learning at night

Doing the math

As per usual, this week has been filled with mishaps, hilarious misunderstandings and the usual debauchery that plays into the life of a Peace Corps volunteer. On Saturday, Terriya (the old woman that cooks the food for the family I eat with), said she was going to market the following morning. Taking advantage of this situation and seeing an opportunity to increase the quality of the meals we would eat, I gave Terriya some money and told her to buy rice, beans, oil, vegetables, spices, etc… whatever she wanted, just get it. Sunday night, she comes back and cooks dinner. It’s the usual millet-based toh, so I am disappointed and wonder where the money went to. I decide to wait it out. Maybe she just didn’t get back early enough to incorporate the new ingredients into the meal. The next morning, I show up at the house and sit down on the mats with Adura, Unissa, Abadou, and Ousman for breakfast. Terriya brings the bowl over, places it n the middle of our circle and walks off. My hopes are high, but I don’t want to be set up for disappointment. After all, breakfast is usually re-heated toh from the previous night. Ousman says “Allah bisimillah” with his usual guttural flourish and lifts the straw lid off the bowl to reveal not toh, but a big bowl of beans. Yea, I was definitely excited. As Ousman is the oldest member of the family present, we wait until he takes his first handful of food and then dig in. I’m in heaven. These are beans with spices and oil. Handful after handful is stuffed down my throat and I can’t be happier. I’m dancing in my head, singing praise to the sheer awesomeness of beans and proclaiming their superiority over toh. Then, as with everything in Mali, it was ruined. This little kid waddles over with tears streaming down her face and squats down next to me. Within seconds, it is apparent that she means business. She lets out a huge groan and the poop shoots out her backside with the force of the Harmattan winds. The proximity of the child to me is mere inches. What do you do in this situation? You can’t just ignore the poop and continue eating. The excitement of beans is forever gone and my breakfast was ruined.

Much of my time in village is spent attempting to dispel myths black and white people. For instance, the villagers are convinced that white people are inherently smarter and have far more God given intelligence than black people. They tell me that black people don’t know what computers are, that they can’t build airplanes, that they don’t know how to make money. This is all white people work, and it is the job of the white person to pass these works onto the black person. They proclaim that the evidence is all around them. The white NGO workers come to Mali in big fancy cars, throw money at the villages, build schools and wells, increase the rain “footprint” through cloud seeding, etc. The villagers see themselves as the child recipients of this giving and have resigned themselves to second rate due to their physical characteristics. According to Amadou, the most educated man in village, the physical characteristics of a person are the best way to measure intelligence. And what are these physical characteristics? Pale skin (but not albinos… they are a “mistake from Allah”), straight hair and, the biggest teller of them all, fat on your forehead. He tells me that this is why Malians attempt to bleach their skin and straighten their hair. If not to make them smarter, than at least to make them appear smarter. As for the fat on the forehead, that one is beyond me. Eat more, I guess. I ask where this information about pale skin, straight hair, and fat foreheads come from. Amadou assures me that it is fact, straight from the Koran, the Bible and from legitimate media sources. I tell him that is bogus, makes no sense, and give examples of ridiculously stupid things white people do and the major achievements of blacks throughout history. He tosses my notions aside as flukes and tells me there is nothing I can say that will change his mind. Going along with his reasoning, I tell him we will just have to disagree and he will never change my mind. End of story. Hopefully I can convince him that we, as people, all have an equal intelligence capacity. Until that day, he will be stuck in his mode of thinking and be convincing the other villagers of his correctness. If you have a fat forehead, pale skin and straight hair, you can rest assured that you will be considered a natural genius in Dimbatoro.

Here are some unrelated pics just for fun.... Like, a kid playing with a tire in downtown Mougui...

I got hold of a ram at one point.

This is my road to site. I took this picture after about a month of rains; you can see the millet starting to come up and the grass taking over the cement-pack dirt.

This is another view of the road to my site. Three kids are walking back with firewood on their heads.

Millet

Abadou and Mira

I've been spending my days out in the fields harvesting the millet with my homologue, Ousman, and his family. We cut the millet one by one with a knife tied to the wrist. Some people put leather or cloth over their hands to protect against cuts and blisters. I opted for a bandana this day. Your hand gets cut up quickly because you use the knife and your thumb in a scissor motion. Once the millet panicle is cut, you place it in your leather cut satchel over your shoulder and cut the next one. The work is tough, but it is nice to have something to do all day.

Ousman preparing his donkey for a day of field work. He was unhappy that I took a pic of him working, but I said it was better this way.

Abadou holding a sorghum stock. These are filled with a sweet, sugar like center. You chew it and spit it out like sugar cane.

Back to work in Mali

2008-10-01T09:43:00.004-05:00

I've been back in Mali for a while now since my trip to Europe/Morocco. Life is definitely status quo here and I am waiting (nearly patiently) for cold season to begin in a few months... late November or early December. Rainy season is coming to a close, but I was told this year has been a season "especial" because there have been more consistent rains than in recent memory. The millet is green, tall and healthy... Allah is smiling down up on the people of Mali.

Getting back to my village at the beginning of Ramadan was a bit of a trip. For the most part the villagers thought I had disappeared and wasn't coming back. Sometimes I am surprised that I came back, but I actually do enjoy what I am doing here and my friends from village and Peace Corps are awesome. It is strange to think how a year from now I will be leaving and will, most likely, never see any of these people again. Not seeing my Malian friends is pretty much a given, but it will also be difficult to keep up with PCV friends as we'll probably spread out around the world when we're done here. But that's not a subject to dwell on at this moment.

Work related, projects are going at the typical Malian snail pace. Regardless of the speed, I am really just happy that the projects are actually running as planned. As anticipated, the cereal bank project is definitely turning out to be long term. The building is nearly complete. We had to halt work in order to make way for the rainy season. You can't very well build a mud and stone house when it is raining and storming on a sort of regular basis. The roof has gaping holes that we will plug with dung, mud and sticks and we must now clear the mud from the floor and lay the cement down. Once this is completed, we'll build the pallets and buy the grains after the harvest season (late November). What's exciting is that we have chosen the members of the association that will be charged with running the cereal bank. Now that Ramadan is over and the harvest season has yet to begin, my tutor and I will begin the education phase on proper cereal bank management over the next couple weeks. It will take no more than a few days, but we need to finish up the prep work, ensure that everyone can attend, purchase educational materials and make sure that the association "gets it." It'll be a challenge to teach in Fulfulde, but I am ready for it and am excited to have something big to do.

As for the drought resistant millet project, it has pretty much tanked. The seeds came late, we did not nearly receive as much as we needed and we ended up planting late due to odd rains early in the season. The millet is growing, but there does not seem to be much of a difference between the Niger millet varieties and the local varieties. The local variety is actually better. What is neat is that the villagers are pumping themselves up with the pride of their own millet actually growing better. So, you can see that from this little experiment, the result has not been more, better millet, but local empowerment. A curveball, but a good one at that.

My rabbits haven't had any litters yet, but I am waiting. I really just want to eat them, but I have put in this much effort already. I will continue to play this one out. They aren't a cost burden, it has just added extra work for my homologue with no results after 5 months. We'll give it a few more.

Next on the project agenda is gardening. I bought about $30 worth of seeds (carrot, lettuce, onions and peppers) today and will work with a few guys in village to plant early. We want to get the gardening going early this year in order to beat the market glut that inevitably occurs during the cold season. Hopefully we can produce some veggies a few weeks early and capitalize on the market demand.

Unrelated to work issues, I turned 24 this past Saturday and it was a blast. I shared my birthday with another volunteer from Mopti region and everyone got together to show us a good time. We all met up in Bandiagarra for a big 'ole fiesta. In the picture below you can see Kate and I with our personalized birthday cakes.

This is my cake... I am truely integrated into Malian culture. "Happy birthday Amadou!" I don't know how or where they got these cakes, but they tasted so good. Seriously good. Thanks guys!

This picture is a must because the birthday boy has always got to be the ladies' man. Aren't I the lucky one?

Trip photos (just a taste)

2008-08-27T17:03:00.005-05:00

Bull fight in Malaga (Southern Spain)Paulo, Duwayne (Iain's Dad) and Iain (Spanish) outside the Ann Frank house in Amsterdam
Canal-side in Amsterdam my first day there. I was not run over by any bicycles (thank Allah).
I ate some seafood paella in Tangier and actually enjoyed it, which is odd because I generally hate seafood. Then, I continued my taste testing that night at a tapas bar with fried fish, calamares and bull teticles to top it all off.

On the beach with Erica in Casablanca... I stole her old-man blue blocker sunglasses

Monkey in the market in MarrakechErica in Marrakech monkey heaven.... she loved it. Just look at that smile.The market in Marrakech at night. Djemma al Fna Square with the monkeys, food vendors, fortune tellers, snake charmers, and the ever-present tourists (I am one to blame).

The adventure continues

2008-08-18T08:40:00.002-05:00

This has been one interesting trip so far. I started out in Madrid and then made my way to Malaga for a few days on the beach. The hostel I stayed in there was full of Spaniards and Italians and none of them spoke English. My days were spent at the beach and my nights were spent going to see bull fights. I definitely had a good time, but what I really wanted was to be able to speak English! I´ve been holed up in Mali for a year and it would be nice to have regular contact with English speakers. Walking around Malaga on my last day there (or so I thought) I was kicking myself in the butt for not going to Amsterdam to meet up with my friend Iain from college. He had planned a trip with his dad and buddy Paulo for the August 11 - 16, and I was walking around Malaga with nothing to do on the 12th. So, I ran to the nearest internet and found a roundtrip flight leaving the next morning and coming back on the 16th. What the hell, I thought, and bought the ticket. This turned out to be a seriously awesome idea. The hostel I stayed at hooked me up with a ride to the airport the next morning at 6am, I had a layover in Madrid and then flew right on to Amsterdam. Freezing at the airport, I hopped on a train to Central Amsterdam for 5 Euros, checked out a map and compared it to the address of the apartment Iain was renting, and started walking.

Amsterdam all looks the same to me. Nearly every street is accompanied by a canal and the houses are thin, 3 storie tall buildings complete with a hook and rope. The reason for this is that when the houses were being built, the city collected a tax based on the width of the house, but not the height. People in turn built tall, thin homes with limited staircases. In order to raise furniture to the upper levels, the rope and pulley system was devised. Despite the similarities of the streets, I am a pretty good traveler and was at Iain´s apartment within 2 hours of flying in. Knocking on the door, I wondered if they were home and planned to settle down outside the house if they weren´t. Why not just wait? After a few minutes, Iain opened the door and was surprised to see me. They were very welcoming, offered me a Heineken and showed me how they had brought a computer hooked up with Comcast digital cable straight from Boston! That meant Red Sox games every night at 1am!

Amsterdam definitely rocked. We attempted to do something cultural like go to the Anne Frank house, but the line was down the block and around the corner. Plus, I´ve been there before the last time I was in Amsterdam (2006 for a school fieldtrip). Instead, we walked around, went to the park, and had some awesome Argentinian steaks (they were apparently imported straight from Argentina...). All in all, it was a good 3 days and I was very happy to see a friend.

I woke up early on the 16th and headed to the airport for my trip back to Malaga. Upon arriving, I planned to stay a night and then head out. Stupidly, I had neglected to write down the name of the hostel I booked, and ended up arriving on the biggest party day of the year. The bus took me to the center of Malaga and I walked around through the crowded streets full of drunken Spaniards yelling, screaming, singing, toasting, etc. Getting through the crowds with my big backpack was a challenge and I received a quite a few angry glances. Because it was such a big party day, absolutely nothing but bars were open and I needed to figure out where I was staying. I eventually walked into a square and a guy wearing a pink frilly apron (obviously wasted) asked me if I was lost. Confessing that I was, hedecided to be wicked helpful and brought me to a hostel where I was able to use the internet and find a map to where I was staying.

This hostel was all Italians, but they spoke English well enough. I hung out with a guy named Marco who spoke a little English and a little Spanish, so we had to communicate through a mix of the two. Soon we found some girls at the hostel from Italy that spoke English really well and went out for tapas and some beers with them. I stayed two nights and have no found myself in Algeciras. Today I will find a place to stay and then head to Tangier tomorrow, and then on to Casablanca.

Rock and Roll... ¿Spain?

2008-08-08T13:35:00.002-05:00

After over a year sweating and bitching in Mali, I have finally left for a vacation of sorts. I arrived in Madrid 3 days ago and have been enjoying every aspect of it. It is seriously like coming out of a coma or prison; everything tastes better, smells better, feels better... Life is just that much better in Spain. Walking near Parque Buen Retiro this morning I caught a wiff of freshly cut grass and couldn´t help but reach down for a handful of it. Fresh cut grass is so incredibly nice when you haven´t smelled it in over a year. As you can imagine, there isn´t much fresh cut grass in Mali. Also, I have seen two baseball games (neither of which were very good), eaten more good food than one can imagine (therefore spent too much money already), and enjoyed the weather to it´s fullest. People are walking around Madrid complaining about the heat, but to me, it´s like a calm spring day. I survived the Malian hot season, right?

Right now I am killing time waiting for a midnight bus to Malaga where I will hopefully see a bullfight or two. As of now, I have no plans for when I arrive. Looking for hostels and hotels online, I could only find places for $40 plus a night. That´s way above my budget. But, not to fear, I´ve got my tent and some blankets and I can lock my bag up in the bus station terminal if necessary. If I can´t find a campsite, I´ll crash on the beach. Either way it´s gonna be an adventure. After Malaga I want to get to a town called Alora where I can go rock climbing at El Chorro, but that means actually finding someone to climb with. Or I can just go bouldering alone but that´s not nearly as fun. From Malaga-Alora I take a ferry to Melilla, Morocco and meander down to Casablanca where I meet up with Erica on the 22nd. It´s a ways off, but I will definitely be filling the time with some fun and adventure.

My language ability is so messed up right now. I can understand nearly everything that is said to me in Spanish, but actually formulating responses is practically impossible. I have this mix of Fulfulde, Bambara, Najamba and French running through my mind pushing English and Spanish all around. I tried to convert some money from Central Africa the other day and I must have gave the dude responses in at least 3 languages, which just confused me so I have no idea what it did to his head. Plus I am so Malian it hurts now. I refuse to do anything with my left hand even though it is completely acceptable here. The problem is that the faux-pas is so ingrained into me that I can´t let it go. To make matters worse, I am continually clicking for agreement, and making all those wierd Malian noises that happen in conversation or just general activities. Say a plate comes to the table, I, without thinking, emit one of two phrases... ´´Waaaallaahhh´´ or ´´uhh huuuuhhh!´´ It´s really quite embarrassing that I can´t stop this.

I am trying to drop these Malian characteristics for the time being, but it´s hard. Attempting to focus on solely Spanish has been difficult as well, but also rewarding. I picked up a English-Spanish dictionary the other day and it has helped tremendously. I spent about 3 hours wandering through the Prado Museum today with my dictionary in hand trying to figure out what was written under each painting. I gotta say, I amaze myself with how quickly I can learn and relearn languages... it´s just fun.

I had this new idea lately. I need to learn Arabic in order to ensure an awesome job in the future. I could work for the State Dept or some other agency and study Middle Eastern affairs and the ways of terrorism. This would first require learning Arabic in an intensive setting, studying Islam in all its forms, learning Middle East policy, etc. This is just an idea that has been mulling through my head, but I like where it´s heading. We´ll see where I can take it after the Peace Corps. If there is some agency that will invest time in me to learn Arabic than I believe I could do it and do it well. Plus, having this Peace Corps background proves that I am willing to stick it out, learn languages and not be afraid to use them and generally work through a whole slew of difficulties. Anyone got any ideas for how I can get this started?

Hasta Luego!

It rained!

2008-07-29T05:35:00.006-05:00

The rain has finally arrived in Dimbatoro! It's a few weeks late, but it has come. You can't imagein the smiles on the villagers' faces when the rain actually arrived. Every day they would proclaim, "I am sweating. The rain is coming... Do you see those clouds? Those are rain clouds!" For weeks, this went on and the rain never came. But, July 26th at around 6pm, the sky blackened, thunder and lightening boomed, and the rain fell in buckets. For the duration of the night, the rain fell and my house flooded (but that's another issue for another time). The next day, the rain continued until 10am. Ousman, Difru and I sat in my wet, leaking house drinking coffee and tea until our heads were about to explode from all the caffeine. The rain stopped and we went out to assess the situation; Where the footpath between my house and mosque is, I was confronted by a gushing river of brown water, grass, leaves and bits of garbage (just a little) washing down from the moutains. Next to my house, the rabbits were emerging from their shelter amd seemed to be in pretty good shape. Thankfully, their house had not flooded. But, as I was walking around my house a gust of wind blew in and I heard a rumble and a crash. The wall next to the rabbit hutch collapsed from the wind and rain, but it fell on the opposite side, thus saving the rabbits from an avalanche of rock and mud.

What will we ever do?

Seeing that the rabbits were still alive and in the hutch, I immediately knew what to do. Ousman was bugging out wondering what to do. Why did this have to happen, he wondered out loud. Quickly, I summarized the problem in a language tht the villagers would understand. I told them that this was all Allah's work. The rabbits, being the good Muslims that they are, prayed to Allah for a bigger house. When he saw the rain coming, he knew this was his opportunity. The rain fell and weakened the wall. Soon thereafter, Allah sent the wind in to finish the job. The wall came down, and the rabbits now had their chance for a bigger home. Telling this to Ousman and Difru, they laughed, yet understood completely; We were to build the rabbits a larger home. Gathering up the fallen rocks and some new ones from around my house, we extended the wall out to twice the original size. Digging out the new extended floor, I lined it with rocks and then covered it with sticky mud, leaving a gutter for drainage. Now, the rabbits have a much larger home that they are unable to dig out of. Believe me, they tried.

The new and improved rabbit hutch

Ousman and Tijani laughing at my story and working on the wall

Rabbits munching on some greens in their new big home.

Thanks to the rain, I was also able to plant all of the millet I received from Bamako. The day it rained, I organized the farmers I was to work with and let them know that we would begin planting the following morning. As the ground was sufficiently soaked, they agreed. We had planned on planting many times before, but the ground was always too dry. The seedlings would never "hatch" in those conditions. The next morning, I ate breakfast at Ousman's house early, grabbed my notebook, and headed for the fields. We started in his field, planted 10 rows of 15 plots of the drought resistant millet and then planted 10 rows of 15 plots of the local variety next to it. In order to not lose track of the fields, we marked them out with giant rock lines. This will benefit in two ways. One, we'll know exactly where the fields are, and two, the rocks will catch debris washing out of the field during rain storms. Ousman and I then moved on to Yaya's, Amadu's and Difru's fields, where we planted the same exact way. The morning progressed like this through all 4 fields and we finished up by about 1pm. After lunch, I spent the afternoon translating the millet test field papers into Fulfulde and drawing out copies and maps for the 4 farmers. We're going to keep track of rainfall, growth patterns, and the differenced between the varieties (if all goes as planned). Filling out the forms may bea a little troubling as the guys aren't completely literate, but I will help them along with the process and make sure that everything is written out correctly. They were excited to get the millet planted, but are unconvinced that the drought resistant millet will be any better than the local variety. What can I say? They've got pride in their own stock, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Now it is once again time for the waiting game.

It's almost time to go on my big trip to Spain and Morocco, and the villagers are getting nervous. They know that I will be meeting up with Erica in Morocco, and they're afraid I won't come back! They've seen pictures of her and know she's a beautiful girl and they're all afraid I won't be able to leave her side. They are complelely convinced I will follow her back to America. I have tried to convince them I can't leave without finishing my projects. That has quelled their fears a little, but it hasn't stopped them from stepping up their wife-giving efforts. It seems like every day they are bringing a new girl to my house for me to take as a wife. Each day I give a new complaint. She's too young, she's too old, she's too fat, she can't cook, she's too tall, etc. You get the point. Hopefully I will have enough excuses until they finally run out of girls to give me. The hope is that I will takea wife in Dimbatoro and either won't be able to leave, or will be able to take her to America with me. I just smile, laugh and come up with a complaint for each girl.

Fikru standing in the first big rain in Douentza

Waiting out the rain last week with Fikru and Eric

Sunrise in Dimabatoro this morning

Hey!

All I think of is food.

2008-07-21T04:42:00.009-05:00

Initially, I had planned to stay at site for an extended amount of time due to the fact that I had been traveling with Mike and Zack for a while, plus I will be leaving for all of August. I have a responsibility to my village, but responsibilities can, evidently, be put on hold. I am here in Douentza, albiet only 2 days, for multiple reasons. First, two of my good friends will be leaving Mali soon and I would like to spend time with them before they leave. Second, I decided I need to buy more wood for the rabbit hutch lid. But mostly, I was hungry. Literally hungry.

As posted in my last blog, it is now the rainy season. One is led to believe that the rainy season is a time of abundance in food and general happiness and well being. This is not so true. It is more true to say that the rainy season is a dirty, smelly, hungry, dire time for the Sahelian peoples of Mali. To begin with, the food that was grown during the last rainy season is nearly gone. What happens is the grains are grown from July to October, harvested and then sold off at a relatively low price because there is such a glut in the local markets. Farmers generally attempt to predict how much grain they will need to survive until the next harvest season, and then sell the rest off in order to bank on the available cash (as little as it is). The grain is eaten, eaten, and eaten and the pressure is briefly alleviated during the cold season (December - March) when people are able to grow (limited) amounts of vegetables such as tomatoes, lettuce, onions, garlic, cucumbers, eggplant, etc. Unlike the grains, the vegetables have a very short shelf life and are unable to be stored for very long. Garlic and onions are dried and stored, but who wants to live on garlic and onions alone?

Now, we're on the last available stores of millet left over from the harvest season. Once these run out, the villagers will be forced to buy back their own grains from the local "entrepreuers" who bought the grain in the first price, but at a much higher price. As you can imagine, the villagers are stretching their grain supplies to the max, which leaves most hungry, especially considering that this is the time when the most work is being done. And to compound all of this, many of young family members (ages 15-30) have returned to village in order to help out with all of the extra work in the fields. Before, I ate with my homologue and his nephew. Now, I eat with those two, plus 4 other young guys. The quality of food has decreased, the number of eaters has increased and the amount of food has remained the same. This leads me to why I am in Douentza this weekend. As stated above, I was just really hungry.

Of course, I can cook at site, or so I thought. I have a stove, I know how to cook, and I usually have access to food. Not now, though. Sitting at site, hunger pangs kicking in, I thought some pasta might help me out. To my great dissapointment, I sent little kids running all around village to scour for garlic, onions, oil, anything! There was nothing to be had. Maybe some powdered milk? No, that was all gone too. How about some ground millet to make a porridge (serisouly a last resort)? All but gone! So here I am. I sat in my rock hut, sweating and hungry, and made my escape from village while everyone was out in the fields in order to avoid the million and one greetings/goodbyes. (Don't worry, Peace Corps, I told my tutor and some local kids... I swear they don't think I am AWOL... which seems like a pretty sane option at this time.)

Dounetza is the land of plenty. I arrived arund 6pm, bought some roasted sheep meat, fried dough, beans, a soda, and then had two beers at night. I still wasn't full, but it helped. Eric, Fikru and I talked of lasagna and pizza for hours, but that did nothing to alleviate the hunger. That night I dreamed of more food. In my dream, Kyle was announced over the radio that he had invented a new type of pizza. With Mike and Steve, we headed off to Kyle's pizza place to sample this new pizza, the "Pizza-Wu." It was delicious (reminder: I'm dreaming) and full of terriaki chicken and pineapples.

After reading my previous statements, I am no more than a big jerk. My village has so little, and I have access to so much. I don't know what to tell you beyond the pure an simple facts that I was hungry. I am, by no means, saving one little African village at a time. I can't defend myself on any accounts here, but that food was good and much needed.

So, today I will go back to village and eat little amounts of millet "toh" and drink the slimy, bitter cobal. What has been neat about this time of year is that I actually have something to do each and every day. Everthing in Mali tends to become very stagnant very quickly. Luckily, living in an agricultural based society, life does not stay stagnant for long; there will always be a new job to do with the coming season. Harvest season was filled with, well, harvesting grain. Shortly there after, the cold season came and we worked in the gardens. During the hot season, we built new homes and brought compost to the fields. Now it is rainy season and time to prepare the fields for the millet growth. Once the millet is all planted, we can then go through and plant beans and ground nuts. Of course, we will play the waiting game again. But you can always count on the harvest season after the rainy season (praying their isn't a huge drought like all of the 1980s). Every day in village, I have been going out to different fields with different families from village. We have been plowing, weeding, planting, and working hard. Each day I go to a different field to prove that I can do the work. Sound familiar, Mike? "Dave won't do that! He can't!" "Oh yea? Well watch this! I'll prove you wrong!" Story of my life. Walking the cow plow is wicked difficult, but I am better at leading the cows. The cement-like ground doesn't take to the plow very well, leading the spade into the previously dug row. This is a test of endurance, strength, and a fight against the cows. Taking reign of the cows is no cake walk, either. You have 1200 lbs of live bull behind you that want to do nothing but sit in the shade. In your hands are two ropes tied through the bulls' noses. You pull, tug, lead and, generally, piss them off. Reluctantly, they follow, and you pray to Allah that they don't just ram one of those big sharp horns up your butt!

Notice how the wood over their necks angles their heads dirrectly towards your behind in ramming position.

Cautiously, I check the bulls to make sure I am still safe. I hope that Bukil has my back.

Working with different families has given me the opportunity to, let's say, sample more of the local cuisine. What have I discovered? As I had known, everyone eats the same millet-based foods, but the quality can highly change from household to household. As it turns out, my homologue's wife cooks the absolute worst food in all of village! Each day I eat a different "toh," and each day I am amazed at the quality and lack of rotting fish taste. Where did I go wrong in the first place and how can I go about getting a new family to feed me?

Because the rain has nowhere to go, it tends to pool in low areas. Here is one of the low-lying areas near the main road outside my village. What is really neat is that crocodiles are attracted to these pools where they wait for unsuspecting dogs, livestock, birds, and possibly small children to wade in and cool off. As elusive as the crocodiles are, I have managed to spot a few of them over the last couple weeks. They're a wiley bunch, yarrgghhh!

Grass is almost starting to grow out near the fields. In the upcomming months, the cows will beable to eat again, hopefully thus hiding their ribs. I only want to see the ribs on my plate, not walking beside my house. Fresh milk is in my future, too.

Mousa plowing a field with two of his kids. Just look at how dry the ground is.

Kids running outside my house as a sand storm approaches the village.

Rainy season and other complaints

2008-07-15T05:33:00.004-05:00

There really are only about 2 good months in Mali. Initially, I had been excited for the beginning of the rainy season because it would bring greenery and cooler temperatures. This, so far, has proven to be true. But along with the greenery and cooler temps comes a massive influx of flies, gnats, mosquitoes, ants, etc. They are really no fun. Remember when I wrote about the powdered donut effect? The hot temperatures where you sweat, followed next by the intense dust storms, and finally followed by the rain... yup, it's here. And when the rain comes, it doesn't go anywhere. The ground has been baking under the sun for the last 10 months and has become like an impenatrable concrete floor. Everywhere you walk, there are just giant lakes of water mixed with the runoff from pit latrines and garbage piles that are a common feature outside EVERY home in Douentza (and most of Malim for that matter). You try your best to dodge, but sometimes you are left with no other option but to trudge on through to the other side. Or you have to fight a herd of oncoming cows for that last little island of mud.

Anyway, last night Phil, Fikru and I left the house in Douentza to get dinner by the main road. Clouds were rolling in, but we figured if we were fast, we might just beat the storm. About 10 minutes into the walk, the sand storm came in with a vengence and we couldn't see 2 feet ahead of us. This proved to make the walk through the lakes of pit latrine runoff even more difficult than it should have been. Arriving at the main road, we took cover in a tin-roofed hut and bought some roasted sheep meat, It was probably the best sheep meat I've had since I got here. We waited out the storm for about an hour and then had to make our waiy back. By the time we got to the house, the entire yard was flooded. What this means is that we must sleep inside. Inside the house, there are mosquitoe clouds thicker than porridge and the temperature is about 15-20 degrees higher. Yes, I now hate the rainy season. Like I said before, there are only 2 "good" months here (December and January). I say "good" because, like everything else here, it is relative compared with your constantly lowered standards of everything.

On another note, I have my "Dogon rock gym" at site. It is this really nice area on top of a hill that no one ever goes to, so I can relax and lift rocks, do pushups, situps, etc without a thousand kids watching me in wonderment (what's the white guy doing? what's the use in that?). My Dogon rock gym is great. I have different rocks picked out for different lifts, different types of pushups, for dips, and everything; it's perfect. Or at least it was perfect. The other morning I went for my run and ended up at my gym as the sun was rising in the distance. The view is so serene, as you can watch the sun rise and the air is still cool. Along the ridge of mountains, breakfast fire smoke rises in large puffs where villages stick out from the valleys. On my other side, I can always count on watching a herd of goats, sheep and cows traverse a ridge across the way. This is all before I have coffee to start my day and I really enjoy it. Last time I was up there, I was stretching and heard my name called from off in the distance. Looking up, I could see Hama coming towards me waving. I like Hama; he's a good friend of mine here, but this hour in the morning is my time. Well, he stopped about half way to me and, as he waved, squatted and pulled his pants down. He used my dogon rock gym as a bathroom! Plus, he didn't even bring the ass-kettle (plastic teapot used for bathroom runs...otherwise known as a salidaga or saatella) to wipe with. There are no leaves up here and toilet paper is unheard of. I didn't stick around to find out how he was going to clean up after himself. The peace, the tranquility, the serene view... it's all ruined by the uncleanly dumping of one man named Hama.

Maybe you are wondering what is going on with my projects now. I did receive the seeds for the millet test plots, but ICRISAT messed up big time. Instead of receiving 16 packets of seeds (4 different varieties for each of the 4 farmers), I received just 4 packets (and only 2 varieties!). My plans for a big scientific field plot research project have been stomped out. Now each othe the 4 farmers will only get one packet, which he will plant next to the local millet variety. By no means is the project completely ruined, just mostly ruined. I am wicked bummed about that, and felt like an idiot going back to village and explaining the problem to the farmers after promising them this big new millet variety project. But, in order to be successful here, enthusiasm is the key. So, I keep it positive with them. The blog can sort of be my area to vent, and maybe you all will find some of this funny.

I bought wood on Sunday in market to build a large lid for the mud brick rabbit hutch. Right now, it is only covered with chicken wire tied to rocks. This is obviously not a very good deterent to wild animals. The lid will do a much better job. I bought the wood and gave it to some guys from village. They said it would be no problem to take it back to village in the local transport bus, as I can't ride a bike with 10 foot long pieces of wood. Thinking the problem of transport was solved, I went to relax and pat myself on the back for a job well done. I patted too early. That night around 8 I went back to the market to get dinner and what was propped up against a building with no one around to watch it? My wood for the rabbit lid! They just left it there in the middle of market, where anyone could just pick it up and go. I asked a guy sitting by the wood where the guys from Dimbatoro were. They had all left, he said. Now I am in Douentza still with this wood and no way to get it back to site until next market day. The two girl rabbits are pregnant, I think. I need to protect them, but I am getting no help here.

I just have one more gripe, hopefully. All the cement I bought for the cereal bank has been sitting in Douentza for weeks now. I have been attempting to work with the village to get it delivered, but they had been of no help up until recently. They arranged a car to take it back and would charge 150 CFA per sack, or 3,000 CFA total. I agreed to this price and assumed we were good to go. Late in the afternoon, the car pulls up to ge the cement and the mobel-tigi (car chief... aka guy in charge from village) says he can't do it for any less than 7,000 CFA. I yell at him, call him a thief, tell him off and he won't lower the price. he just laughs in my face. At this point, I am stuck, My hands are tied. The rainy season is here, the cement is getting wet, it NEEDS to get to village, and he knows this. I end up paying the 7,000 CFA as he walks out laughing. That guy sucks. I swear, everywhere I turn in this country, I get hit up for extra surcharges for no reason beyond the fact that I am looked upon as being Mr. Moneybags due to my complexion. I serisouly need to get out of this country. Thank god this trip to Spain and Morocco is coming up soon. I need it.

But on a positive note, I have taken on a big project that will be very beneficial to Douentza, and probably really stressful to me. Fikru, who has volunteered in Douentza for the last two years, is leaving in August. He has worked with an association to build a library in Douentza, but has ultimately run out of time. The proposal is written, the materials are all accounted for, the land has been donated next to the school here, the mason is waiting for the go ahead and the the plans have been drawn up for the building. My role in this project will be to acquire funding and dole out the money. I will be working with a man named Baga Cisse, who heads up the library association and will be the main librarian once the project is finished. There is currently no library in Douentza. There are multiple schools. The kids here are able to study at home and at school, but they have very limited access to books. The hope is to get books in French, English, Fulfulde, Songrai, Bamabara, as well as in Dogon dialects. Te research for the project has been completed and all of the right people are waiting for the signal to begin. The original plan for the library does not include electricity, but I will be looking into that because I want to give the kids access to computers and the internet. There are volunteers in Mali who have worked to provide computer and internet access to students throughout Mali. I plan to work through their contacts to bring internet access to the students of Douenza. It's a big idea and a big project, but the bulk of the organizational work has been done. With a year-plus here, I can accomplish this project.

Fun with the brothers in Mali

2008-07-06T08:54:00.002-05:00

It’s been a while since my last post mainly because I have had a lot going on. Also, there was a 3 or 4 week time frame when there was just no available internet. Ask my brothers, they were here for the tail end of it. The biggest news is that Mike and Zack made it. After 3 full weeks in Mali, I do believe they were ready to go home. I kept them busy and constantly entertained (although they may not know it, they were my entertainment for the 3 weeks as well!) When they arrived in Bamako, I met them at the airport amidst a brawl outside the main terminal. In the ensuing fight, no one was injured, but it was fun to watch as women attacked each other with heels and men pounded each other to the ground. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good fight!

Mike and Zack came out of the terminal all grins and greetings (not Malian greetings, but the more appropriate American style). They then informed me that the bag they brought for me full of climbing equipment, new shoes, and a grab bag mix of American goodies was lost in between time zones. Without asking for assistance, we had “well-wishers” and “helpers” working for us and eventually blocking the door until we paid them. Mike offered to pay, but I would not allow it. No wonder the Malians see us as suckers for cash (Mike!). The Peace Corps (mainly our financial manager Alyssa) was extremely helpful in getting the bag back (and she even bought me lunch). It turns out the bag was offloaded from the plane due to weight and was brought the next day. They figured I could wait…. Thanks, Royal Air Maroc.

The first leg of our trip took us down to Bougoni and Sikasso where Zack freestyle rapped in a night club called Alcatraz and then threw up all over Mike’s face in a taxi the next day. I promise that the two events are not related. And we can’t forget Sophie accidentally spitting chewed up nut kernels into a woman’s face after kindly asking her to move. Maybe the Bambara didn’t translate? We stayed with Sophie in Bougoni for a night. She helped show us around Sikasso region and took care of the Bambara and French, for the most part. In Bougoni, Zack jumped into a pickup game of soccer as soon as we arrived. His integration skills are impeccable. After Bougoni, we headed to Sikasso to camp by the waterfalls for a night. After being in the north for months, I have become very accustomed to a dry desert-like landscape and was completely caught off guard by the Jungle Book landscape of Sikasso. Mogli didn’t pop out swinging on a vine, but we were met my many curious onlookers at the waterfalls as we jumped in to escape the humidity. At night, we brought out the iPod and speakers to accompany our meal of canned chicken, mango jelly, peanuts, and dates (it was REALLY good). The air was so humid by the falls and none of us could really sleep. I felt submerged in a fog all night, which is not an ideal sleeping condition by any means.

The next day we hiked back to the main road for a little over an hour and I was given a chance to practice more Bamabara, but found myself in a Senufo village. Not much luck there. But, I did end up finding multiple Fulfulde speakers by the main road and felt right at home. I can speak Fulfulde really well and am extremely confident in my abilities. Mike and Zack thought it was funny to see me attract a crowd everywhere I went as I had them rallied around me while I told stories and joked around. I don’t know what I’ll do when I go home and am anonymous again; I enjoy this quazi-celebrity status that I hold here. Plus, I have become a little more proficient in both French and Bambara… mainly bar, restaurant and taxi language. The rest will come with time. Speaking a slew of languages is very taxing on the brain, but fun, nonetheless.

On the 10 hour ride between Sikasso and Sevare, I slept for the majority, but Mike and Zack were crammed and apparently experienced hell. You’ll have to speak to them for more details. My only qualm was stepping into a huge puddle of pit latrine water in Koutiala at around 3am. That put a damper on the ride and seriously downgraded the status of my new shoes. We saw the Darjeeling Limited at one point, which was perfect considering we were three brothers meeting up in a strange place after a long absense. I even had our itinerary worked out perfectly and was on pain killers by the end of the trip!

We hit up Sevare and Douentza quickly before making it to my village. The ride to Douentza was memorable because Mike was sick. We thought he might just make it the two hours, but 20 minutes before Douentza he looked at me with his pale face and said, “I’m not gonna make it.” I whipped out a pair of pants from my backpack and tied the legs together, creating a makeshift puke bag. As soon as the pants were open and in his hand, he let loose and I just laughed. Sorry, but I have very little sympathy for throwing up and/or diarreah in Mali. If you get Malaria, then I’ll send you a get well card.

We got to village the next morning. At the main road, we were met by two guys around my age (Hama and Mamadou) who carried the boys’ bags for them. They sent a kid ahead to notify the villagers that we had arrived. Waiting under a small shade tree and making small talk, we heard the beginnings of drums beating and guns firing. Within minutes, the entire village had assembled and come out to greet our arrival. What sounded like the coming of war ended up being the most hearty and warmest welcome I have ever experienced in my life. The entire village came out with guns blazing into the air and drums beating out rhythms. I introduced everyone and we were paraded into the village with such fanfare that I could have sworn we were in a movie. The villagers sang, danced, and jumped sporadically into the air as they accompanied us to all of the main house holds in village to greet the elders. Once the hooplah calmed down a bit, we were left at my house to unwind and relax a bit. We at some toh, a goat was killed, and the kids inundated us with questions. Shortly before the sun was setting, the drums and guns started up again and we were rushed back out to the main center where singing and dancing was at full force again. We all had our turn at dancing, but the dust was choking and we were tired.

The following day we hiked up into the mountains behind site and explored the ancient Tellem houses in the rocks and caves. Tijani and Ousman gave us a lot of information that I translated for the boys. They were looking for artifacts to sell to tourists, but found nothing remarkable. On the other hand, I was able to climb around and do some bouldering. I actually climbed up a large face without thinking of the consequences (very typical of me) and found that there was no way down. It was all overhangs and straight faces. I eventually pulled a Spiderman-esque move to get down and gave everyone a good scare.

That afternoon, it was time for me to kill the goat I had bought for Mike and Zack’s arrival. The goat was brought to my house and thrown onto the ground. Zack was squeamish and couldn’t watch, but Mike was ready with the camera. The guys in village made sure his angles and lighting were right and gave me the go-ahead to slaughter the goat (so long as I said the correct prayers). I grabbed the goat’s horn, pulled his head back as he faced Mecca and let out a loud “Bisimillah!” Slicing into the goat’s neck, he reeled back, but we had a tight grip on him. As instructed, I said “Allah akbar” as the blood came out, and everyone was happy. I sliced and sliced away until I could feel his spine. I was confused as one guy yelled “keep cutting!” while another yelled “enough!” I eventually came to a happy medium and stopped cutting. It was weird killing a goat; I almost felt out of my own body. I didn’t really feel like I was all there, but the dead goat at my feet and blood all over me confirmed the fact. Anyway, we roasted the goat and he tasted great. We dined on goat head soup with rice the next morning (not so great).

After leaving village, we met up with other PCVs and headed north to Hombori for rock climbing. We arrived around 1 in the morning and planned to climb up this one block to set the top rope for the morning, but Kevin was scared by mass quantities of bats. A rabies-laden bite is no way to start a climbing trip, so we put it off until the morning. The wind was fierce and we eventually found three camping sites to set up our tents where we wouldn’t blow away. I slept well until Kevin woke me up at first light to begin climbing. Mike really impressed me this day. On his first climb, he said it would be his last due to his fear of heights. But before I knew it, he was down on the ground and then strapped in on the other side for another climb! Go Mike! Zack was also really impressive. He got off to a slow start, but was consistently making it to the tops of his climbs. The second day he really came through. We had set a top rope on this face with tiny little holds. I belayed Zack on his climb and he just plugged away until he reached the top with no problems. I was a big fan of this rock because it was were I learned to repel myself down. It was like I was in a military commercial. Wearing my harness, I had the rope doubled up in my belay device and repelled down the rock with one hand above and one hand below. It was awesome having complete control of my decent.

That second morning, we were about to leave the campement we stayed at when I saw some odd looking clouds approaching. Hell’s chariot was on its way in the form of a sand storm. Imagine rolling clouds of sand thousands of feet tall engulfing huge rock spires in the distance barreling directly towards you. It’s scary and exciting, especially when your only shelter is a dried millet stock bungalow. Although Hell’s chariot never reached us, we were in for a neat treat as everything around us turned a bright yellowish-reddish-orangish hue. I don’t know how the storm missed us, but it did.

Leaving Hombori, we caught a ride to Boni in the back of a large truck full of people. Standing room only. A goat peed on Zack, Mike hit people in the face with his giant backpack and I was berated with questions in too many languages. We made it to Boni and negotiated a too-high price to go out and see elephants. Mike, Zack, Braxton (a fellow PCV) and I hopped into a 4X4 van (aka piece of junk) and rode out into the bush to search for elephants. At one point, the van was stopped by locals and we were hassled for the “local people tax,” which was complete bull and I told the guy we had already paid it to the local elephant association. He backed off. Our guide apparently thought we wanted to see a dead elephant and took us on our way. He then asked to make sure, and I said it would be preferable to see live elephants and avoid a large decomposing carcass. He agreed and turned the van around to go back nearly to where we began.

Again, we drove out into the bush in another direction until we found fresh elephant droppings, which where succinctly collected and deposited into the van (Braxton thinks they were selling them… for what purpose, he’s not sure). In time we found a Fulani watching over his animals who claimed to have seen elephants this morning. He jumped into the van and we were off again. Bringing us to a thicket of small trees, we exited the bus and headed downwind as not to be discovered by the elephant. Quietly, we tracked down an elephant near a watering hole and followed him for a short while. Stepping out from a patch of trees, we found ourselves face to face with the elephant himself (it was definitely a “him.” The Fulani pointed this out to me with much enthusiasm). The elephant stood there for a while and threw his trunk around. After we snapped a few photos, the elephant decided it was time for us to move on. He puffed his ears up and took a few steps forward, just to let us know we were on his turf. Yes, we got out of there very quickly. We saw our elephant, so all was a success.

The remainder of the trip was pretty anticlimactic. The boys made it on their own from Sevare to Bamako, which I found to be impressive. Due to an odd set of circumstances, I ended up on a different ride with all of the bags while they were on a bus. The end of the trip was spent in Bamako where Zack enjoyed playing pool and eating the Campagnard’s tex-mex pizza while Mike sipped cokes and made friends with PCVs. On Thursday I sent them off to the airport in a taxi cab and waited to hear that they had made it home safe. They did, so all is good.

As for me, I am still in Bamako under “medical arrest.” Something bit my finger and it became infected. My hand swelled up like a Mickey Mouse glove, so I’ve been bidding my time taking antibiotics and ibuprofen until the doctor gives me the OK to go back to site. I am anxious to get back to site in order to begin the millet field tests and make sure the rabbits are ok. I should also transport all the cement to village, as well. This must all be done in July before I head out to Spain and Morocco in August to rock climb, cliff jump, and see Erica at the very end. I really can hardly wait. Until my next blog post, adios!

There's work to do!

2008-05-28T10:29:00.004-05:00

To everyone that helped fund the cereal bank project: thank you very much! The construction of the building is well under way and should be completed within the next few weeks. The guys in village have been getting together every Monday and Friday to do "golle suudu baba" (the dogon equivalent of community service... "work for dad's house"). The majority of the building materials have been local, so there haven't been any issues regarding where to find things. Plus, I ordered and delivered the windows, received notification that the cement is in, and have nothing but good news. When the construction began, the guys let me help out a little, but being the outsider, they're not too comfortable with letting me get down into the work so much. They really see me as an organizer and fund finder, which works, but leaves a hell of a lot of down time on my part. Once the construction is complete, we'll move into the education phase in order to ensure that everyone associated with the cereal bank has the know how to run it effectively and keep it sustainable. Overall, projects are going well here for me and I have not hit any obstacles. With everything going on, one would think I was busy all of the time. That's not the case, but I am happy to be accomplishing things here.

Here I am surveying the work from the top as the old building is being torn down

This is Daouda. He's ready to help out with his hammer.

Tijani, Amadu and Djugal were able to salvage the door from the old building.

The guys watching on and working to take down the building.

Amadu testing out the fit of the new windows.

Kids bringing water over to make mud for the walls.

Also, thanks to everyone that contributed to my "slush fund" account. The biggest problem with starting even small scall projects here is the lack of available funds. It is extremely difficult to convince someone to put a few dollars worth of CFA into an idea when they need that money to feed there families. With the additional money I received, I have begun a low-input, small-scale rabbit raising project with two guys in village. I purchased wood and chicken mesh wire to build a portable hutch. After building it in a few hours, the villagers were impressed that I was able to do something with my hands! If they only knew I had these kinds of skills... sure I may be worthless with work relating to rocks and mud bricks (actually an entire rock wall fell on my back the other day. I'm all cut up and bruised, but I'll get better), but give me some wood, a hammer, saw and nails, and I'm set! The hutch itself cost around $25 plus however long it took me to build. A few days later I bought 4 rabbits and had them carted up from Bamako for about $5 a piece. We're currently working on a more permanent home for the rabbits made from mud bricks and stone. The portable hutch will come in handy when the rabbits breed and they are carried into market to be sold. Having a hutch that they can't get out of and other animals can't get into will be especially important (no rabbit meat for Rufus!) when it comes to mangy dogs running around.

Here's Adura watching over the rabbits. I am raising them with his and his uncle's help.

Lounging rabbits

I also was given six pigeons to be raised for consumption. If you remember an earlier post, I actually slaughtered one myself a few months back. They're really tasty. Seriously.

Mike and Zack will arrive in Bamako in 2 weeks, so you can imagine how excited I am for that. I have planned out a trip for them that includes the Sikasso waterfalls, rock climbing in Hombori, Elephants and Camels in either Boni or Gossi, and a little time spent at my site. Site should be interesting because I purchased a nice big goat to slaughter and will be getting ready to begin planting the millet for the season. They'll really get the whole Mali experience. Although I am excited to show off my Fulfulde skills, I am nervous about getting around the rest of the country with them considering my near-zero French and Bambara skills. It'll definitely be a test of smarts and patience.

Some updating

2008-05-10T06:07:00.002-05:00

Just a quick update. The good internet place is down, so now I have to pay double the price at a slower location. That's no fun.

But, I did just get back from rock climbing in Hombori again. I'm going to try to get up there about once a month because it's only a two hour ride away and the campement there is super cheap. I ordered climbing shoes and a harness from EMS that Mike and Zack will bring to Mali when they come in a few weeks. It's gonna be awesome playing Mali tour guide with my brothers for three weeks. So far I've put together a tentative schedule for us. As this is Mali, nothing is permanent and everything is relative. We'll just kind of go where we go with a few definite destinations once they get here.

The cereal bank project has officially begun. Last week the villagers tore down the old building and began to construct the new one. Yesterday, I picked up the windows I had ordered in Douentza and will bring them to site tomorrow. The guys there will be excited to have everything they need within the next few weeks.

Rufus disappeared for a week and a half, but he's back now. I found him a few towns over chasing some girl dogs around. When he was gone, the village kids dropped a cat (Sally) off at my house. Now that Rufus is back, I had to give the cat to Derek. Rufus goes in to crazy attack mode when he sees the cat. So that's too bad. I has hoping the cat would keep away the scorpions, spiders, and mice. I found a huge white spider with claws crawling on my stomach IN my tent the other night.... no where is safe! The same kind of spider (bigger than my hand) ran out of my house the other night, but I couldn't throw rocks fast enoughto kills him. I unfolded some sheets and a 4 inch long yellow scorpion fell out and ran straight at my feet... but I stomped him out fast. I've yet to find any snakes in my house, but it's only a matter of time. There are some sersiously poinsonous snakes in Mali. Yes. I'm just a little nervous.

I'm trying to find a way to get to Morocco to meet up with Erica in August, but it's hard to find travel deals flying out of Bamako. This place is like a black hole... you can get in, but leaving is a trick I haven't yet discovered. If anyone has info, please let me know.

2008-04-21T05:24:00.011-05:00

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

2008-04-19T05:12:00.007-05:00

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

2008-04-18T05:44:00.004-05:00

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.

Swimming South of the Sahara

2008-03-26T04:06:00.008-05:00

Yesterday was my friend Eric's birthday, so we decided to celebrate a little. Because Eric is from Nebraska, Derek had the idea to theme the party as his home state to make him feel welcome. So, we all dressed up in cut off shirts, jeans, and straw hats and became Nebraskans. We have this cistern that was built out of rocks and cement. Whoever built it in the first place had the amazing foresight to build bench seats on the inside; not only does it catch rain water, but it also acts as a pretty good swimming pool during the Malian hot season. After scooping out all the leaves and dirt that have accumulated, we scrubbed it out and begin pulling water from the well. The water was nasty brownish and we even pulled up half of a dead lizard. Despite filtering the water through a cloth and dumping bleach into it, this was still not enough. I'm in no hurry to get shisto at this point. Plus, we struck the bottom of the well and started to pull mud. Eventually we found a garibu to bring us water from a tap not too far from the house. In addition to an hour's worth of well water pulling, we added another 36 bidons (5 or 6 gallons worth each) and we were in business.

The water actually doesn't look so bad here.

By the time the cistern was full, Derek and Ariel had cooked up a meal of fajitas and Castel. (Yes, they were awesome.) We ate up, and jumped into the cistern to cool off and escape the temp pushing 100 degrees for the rest of the day. It was definitely a success. Look how white I am below my head! The rest of them just got back from a beach trip to Senegal. You can tell I was stuck here.

Last night I was able to speak to Mike for about an hour before heading off to bed (aka my tent) and we got to talking all about the when he and Zack arrive in June. I'm psyched for them to get here because they'll finally be able to see and understand what I am doing here as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Seeing these pictures and posts make it sound good and fun all the time, but I really want them to see the slow monotonous lifestyle of village life. Just for a brief time, though. The trip will be filled with fun and games, though. I'm going to meet them down in Bamako, spend a night or two there and then continue south to Sikasso. By this time, the rains will have started and everything should be lush green. We'll head down to the waterfalls and camp out for a night. The next part of the plan is to head north and follow the rains. I want to get back into village with Mike and Zack around the time that the villagers begin planting the millet fields. At this point, I should be set to start planting the new drought resistant millet varieties. I'll get them out working in the fields at least for a few hours. After this, maybe we'll go down to Dogon country or up to Gao. Depends on the timing and the heat.

Here are some random pictures.

Check out the determination on my face as I test out my new slingshot. I feel like Dennis the Menace.

This is the view from my front door in village. You can see how close I am to the mud mosque. With 5 prayer calls a day beginning around 5am, you can imagine how I would like a slight shift in proximity. I am rooting that the village doesn't get electricity... a loudspeaker might just kill me.

This is the view from behind my house. I asked why there are no people living in the houses you can see here. Apparently they all died. My little ghost town. Nice mountains, huh?

What birthday party would be complete without firing jumping?

Rufus is getting big.

The gang's all here for the St. Patrick's Day festivities in Bandiagarra.

Inside my house a few months ago.

The view of my village from the mountains above it. The green area is where the stream, gardens, and mango trees are. Plus, that's where my laundry gets clean.

Rock Climbing

2008-03-08T04:59:00.005-05:00

I decided to be real spontaneous this week and went on a random rock climbing trip, even though I had never been before. I got a call from a friend who said he was heading north to Hombori to climb the Hand of Fatumata. If I wanted to meet the bus he was on and tag along, I was more than welcome. So, I grabbed whatever I could find that I thought might be useful and caught the bus. We arrived in Hombori around 2am and crashed at a little campement. The next morning we met up with another PCV (now there were 5 of us... PCVs me, Kevin, Eric, Jared and Kevin's friend from home, Christine). The following morning, we woke up around 7am, hopped on another little transport van and found ourselves at the base of Fatumata's Hand by 9am. We started out with some sport climbing on a block that had fallen from one of the rock faces at some prior point in history. There have been people climbing these rocks for decades, so some of them... the block included... had already been outfitted with bolts. Jared and Kevin initially lead the top ropes. Basically they climb up first while hooking themselves into the bolts and hope they don't fall. Once they reach the top, they then set up the rope to fall back to the bottom. The rope forms an inverted V. The beleyer works the rop from the bottom ensureing safety. The rope then loops through the top anchor and comes back to the climbers harness were it is locked in through a figure 8 knot plus a safety knot.

Kevin and I gearing up before a climb.

That first day, I climbed up the block three times in the morning while it was shady. As the day wound on, the sun started beating on the rock pretty well and heating it up to oven temperatures. We rested in the shade until the day wore on a bit and the sun started to cool everything off. Around 3pm, we found an India-Mali pump and washed up a little bit before making our climb on the other side of the rock. We had to fight cows for the right to some water; they weren't happy about that. After many attempts on the opposite side of the block, none of us were actually successful. In terms of just having fun and trying to climb, we did well. I fell a few times grabbing for what looked like a strong hold, but just slipped in the end. The pendulum effect can be scary, but if you trust your equiptment and beleyer, it's really no big problem. Just try not to smash your ankle like Eric did!

This is me at the top of the block after my first climb.

That night we slept outside next to the block without tents or anything. I slept on mat with my sleeping bag, and it really wasn't that bad until the wind picked up. The wind kept blowing my sleeping bag away from me and pelting me with grains of sand, dried grass and little rocks. Definitiely not the most peaceful sleep I've had. Also, I was nervous that maybe some snakes and scorpions would find me in my sleep, get scared and bite me. That was not the case.

Sleeping below the block worked in our favor because we were able to wake up and just start climbing immediately before the sun got too hot. I failed my first few attempts, but once my muscles warmed up and I began to learn the techniques better, I was making my goals happen. It is just an insane adreniline rush when you finally figure out exactly how to make your move, get beyond it and realize that you are just that much closer to the top. When that view from the top is attained, your head just rushes.

There I go!

After lunch in the afternoon, we hiked up to one of the figers on the "Hand." Jared and Kevin set up a top rope and I made my first real climb on a mountain face. Before going up, I had some serious doubts considering how high up I was supposed to go. But, you just do it. I started out the climb going over a bulge, and that was a real physical and mental teaser. I did some mental route planning, and eventually figured it out. The next few moves were a breeze, but I soon came to a stand still with me hands and feet spread in all directions just trying not to fall. I leveraged myself up at one point and swung backwards off the face. Jared was beleying, and saved me easily. Determined not to be discouraged by a fall, I pulled myself back onto the wall and found a route. I had to "leap" upwards... it was almostl like the scence in 300 when Leonidas is climbing up to see those old leppers... My hand gripped a small ledge, and my fingers stuck. I let out a huge WHOOOAAA and everyone at the bottom laughed when they realized my surprise at actually sticking to the wall. At this point, the top o the climb was so attainable. Ijust made it happen and was beaming once I made it to the anchor. I had to lean back for a few minutes to admire the view before I let Jared bring me back down to earth.

You can see me on the face as a tiny little blip. I am wearing a green shirt and am in a middle of the photo. Look at me go.

That night I was riding a pretty good high after nailing the climb. We celebrated at a campement with some chicken, cous cous and a beer. Shortly after, we were all exhausted and asleep until Kevin woke us up again at 5am to begin our final climb.

Third day of the climb on the mountain as the sun is rising.

The sun was not yet up at 5am, so we packed our belongings up in the dark and hiked up to the face. As we had left the top rope up the night before, Eric made the initial climb as the sun was just peeking above the horizon. Jared screamed up to him, "Hey Eric, the early bird catches the worm, huh?" It was so appropriate. When Eric came down, I climbed up again... this time without falling, and posed for some pictures at the top. Jared has them, so hopefully they'll be sent my way at some point. Eric and I caught a bus back to Douentza around 10am while the rest of them decided to stay and climb on for the rest of the day. It was difficult to leave such an amazing adventure, but it was time to get back to reality. I have been bitten by the climbing bug and can't wait to make it back out there again. In two weeks, we're gonna do some scrambling and bouldering around the Douentza rocks... if you're reading this and in the area, let me know what's up.

Laughing and relaxing with the little kids that watched us climb everyday.

Here is Jared on beley with Eric climbing a sunny face of the block. Those little kids came by every day to sell woven trinkets, but we said to bring food. They never brought anything but woven trinkets. I tried to explain that we couldn't eat woven trinkets, but their heads were kinda thick. We just wanted peanuts or the sesame seed bars the villagers make here.

A couple photos to pass the time

2008-03-02T06:26:00.004-05:00

This is Fikru and I at the Dogon Festival last weekend. It was wicked dusty, so I put on the bandana.

Dogon stilt dancers.

More Dogon dancers. The drums were nonstop for like 4 days.

Here's me being just kinda dumb and Fikru putting up with my antics. Rufus is just relaxing in the background.

Animal Stories and Other Adventures

2008-02-25T03:59:00.005-05:00

After roughly 7 months in Mali, I have finally "tracked," killed, and eaten an animal. My friend Hama showed up last week and brought three pigeon-like birds with him. He said that it was my job to slaughter the birds and cook them up for lunch considering he had brought them to my house. I sat staring at hte box for a while, trying to figure out how i was gonna go about this whole bird killing business. I tried to tell them I didn't know the correct Muslim prayers. so it would be blasphemous for me to kill the birds. Hama said that was nonsense and he would teach me. We struck a deal that he would kill the first one and I would watch, learn and then get the second. First, the pigeon flew off and went into my house. I "tracked" him through the first room, into the back room, under the bed and finally I caught him over the book case. Step one. After that, I took the bird out and stepped on his wings as instructed. Finding his neck, I pulled his head back by his beak. I took the knife and said aloud "Bisimilla," which means something like welcome to God. As I said this, I started to saw the little birds neck open, but it was tough and took some strength. I finally got through the skin, and blood squirted out all over my hands and feet. As this happened, I was instructed to say "Allah akbar!" God is great. As the proclaimed the greatness of God, the damn bird's head came off in my hands. I think I cut too deep. All in all, Djugal (a local kid), de-feathered the birds, cut out the insides and washed them off. I cooked them up in a pasta and tomato mixture for a delicious lunch. Currently, the third pigeon is being raised my my homologue's nephew to be eaten at a later point.

I came into Douentza this weekend for the Ginna Dogon, or the Dogon Festival. If you're going to give a festival to a group of people in Mali, it should definitely be the Dogons. On Friday morning, I left village on bikes with my friend Difru. We made it about 2 or 3 km, but couldn't go any further because of the intense wind coming straight at us... Harmattan I guess. A converted truck/bus picked us up for a small price and we headed back out onto the road at a much faster rate. After another km or 2, we stopped to pick up some more guys heading to the festival. The last guy to get on has about 3 guns, snake skins, and a monkey on a rope. This monkey did not want to get into the back of the truck, but his owner wasn't about to leave without him. The monkey was jumping and howling and just acting like deisagreeable monkeys act. The guy sits next to me with his moneky, and the monkey starts screaming in my ear, tearing at my pants and shirt and climbing all over me. I had my fist in the air ready to punch the creature right in his little head if he had any plans to bite me. The guy reassured that the monkey was his friend, wouldn't bite and would settle down momentarily. Needless to say, I was still a little scared, and the monkey never did calm down. The lesson learned is that monkeys do not make good pets.

The festival was awesome. I hung out with Fikru, Phil and Antony (three other Peace Corps Volunteers in the area... by the way, I'm in Mopti-manville.... the Peace Corps won't send girls up her for some reason.) The festival was full of Dogons shooting off their guns... they load them with as much gun powder as possible and fire them into the ground. Lots of noise. Lots of smoke. No bullets, thank god. There were skits acted to out drumming and music all weekend and I pet a hyenna that looked like a really big dog. Wierd. One night we went to a Malian "dance," which was like a middle school dance. Loud music and no one dancing. Maybe one or two brave souls in the middle with everyone watching. By this point I had had a beer or two and was in the mood to act even wierder than I usually do as one of the only white guys around. I grabbed a girl from crowd and dragged her out to the dance area and we danced like crazy dogons for a while. To dance like a dogon you have to semi-squat, kick your legs up real high from the knees, and hold your arms out straight. It almost looks like you're imitating bik riding. You can jump and spin, too, if you feel so inclined. Then I ran into the middle of a bunch of kids and danced for all of them as fast as I could, kicking up clouds of dust... as it hasn't rained once since I've been up here! The kids loved it and wouldn't let me leave the circle, so I was stuck dancing for a while. Once I broke out, my friends were ready to go. Maybe I embarassed them a little? Oh well, I had fun and the Malian kids loved it. The next day in market, I was surrouned by kids again yelling for me to dance, but I told them it was a one time thing. Maybe tomorrow?

Last week I had brought Rufus to Douentza to get his rabies shots. As he is too big to put in a basket on my bike now, I had him follow me on foot for the 25 km. It was a slow going 3 hour ride, but I enjoyed with because it gave me a chance to stop and speak with locals along the way instead of just breezing through on the bike. Rufus skinned the bottom of his feet a little, but he had a few days to recover. We left for village the following Monday and Rufus tagged along on foot. He was starting to limp, so I attenpted to hog tie him. After wrestling the dog for about 30 minutes, I managed to get the roap tied tightly around his legs. He bit and fought the whole time. Then, I put him on the bike rack and started to wrap rubber strips around him. This was, apparently, the straw that broke the camel's back. Rufus somehow flipped over got one of his legs out and hollered louder than I've ever heard a dog holler before. He fell off the back of the bike, teeth and claws flailing everywhere, and basically let me know he wasn't gonna be tied there. So, on foot he went. The best part was he slept for the entire next day, so I didn't have to deal with him at all after that.

On another note, here are some pictures of a house contruction project that I took a few weeks ago. It's a little bit different from the work I did back home, huh? This house is being built behind my house. You can see the dry brown landscape in the background with the little trees and scrub bushes that make up this part of Mali.

Making it happen

2008-02-11T10:16:00.000-05:00

It's well into February. Hard to believe that I've been in Mali for almost 7 months already; I have 19 more to look forward to. After returning to site post-IST, project implementation has been in full effect. I was a bit nervous at first proposing my ideas for potential projects, as I've been sitting in village learning Fulfulde for 3 months straight. In terms of getting work done, I hadn't accompolished anything (don't worry.... it's not due to lack of motivation, it's the Peace Corps' rule). I practiced speaking about the projects to myself and my to my PC friends in Fulfulde before unveiling them to the villagers, and I worked out many kinks in the language. It's amazing how much a dictionary helps here. For the last week, I have been holding meetings at various places around the village in order to gain support for the projects, organize material lists, translate work between English and Fulfulde and back again. I pretty much just jumped into the work instead of trying to get my feet wet first. This has been a surprisingly easy transition and everyone I am working with in village is more than motivated to get going on the projects.

For the millet field test projects, I have already singled out 4 farmers to work with, devised a tentative work schedule, worked out cost benefits, and have made plans to store successfully grown seeds in the seed bank to sell to other communities the following planting season. That works out the best because it allows me to take out two projects in one. Those would be finding a drought resistant millet strain and updating the seed bank. Check.

Furthermore, the cereal bank project is going faster than I had imagined and is actually going to be a hell of a lot easier than I had initially thought. There is a pre-existing structure in village that housed grains at one point until the ceiling caved in (this happens often, as the homes are made of rocks, sticks and mud). We measured the dimensions of the building and plan to tear it down in the coming weeks and build a new one in it's place to roughly the same dimensions. This makes my job easier, as funding projects in Mali requires a minimun of at least 25% contributions from the village. My village will be supplying all of the rocks for the structure, all of the wooden cieling beams we salvage, all of the workers and hours. a strong metal door from the existing structure and will hopefully be able to kick in some grains. When I write up the proposal, I need to create a very specific materials cost and needs sheet that is divided up into community contributions and monies requested. This is well under way, in both Fulfulde and English. It's been difficult work, but has been keeping me very busy... obviously a big difference from the initial 3 months in village. Basically, the village will need the money for bags of cemement, record keeping materials, a new lock, scales, cereals, bags, lamps, etc. This is much less than I had originally thought.

I spoke with my APCD (Oumar, who is in charge of the Ag sector) today and he is thrilled to see that my work is taking off so quickly. He put me on a list of seed recipients for the millet field testing, but I want to call the project manager directly in order to ensure I get exactly what I need. We're looking for varieties that will seed in roughly 60-75 days, as we don't get much rain here. I also told him about the cereal bank project and asked about funding opportunities. More specifically, I wanted to know if the Peace Corps funding options covered the cost of the grains that will be stored and sold in the bank. He said it coveres everything as long as the commmunity contribution is at least 25%. So, I'm set there. Also, I met with a local NGO today and pitched my projects to them. They were very positive about my work and would like to collaborate on projects in the future becasue I live in village and am a valuable resource. We spoke about the cereal bank, and they have actually funded, built, and stocked multiple cereal banks in the Douentza area. They are willing to work with me on that project, so that's another win for me.

These projects will keep me busy through the next harvest season (until about December). After that, I will begin gardening projects during the next cold season with the villagers that are aimed at income generation. Really, I just want to grow vegetables to eat that aren't onions. I could go for some carrots about now.

In other news, Mike and Zack bought their tickets and will arrive in Bamako on June 12. They'll be in Mali for roughly 3 weeks, so I have a lot of planning to do before they get here. Also, I'm going to Bamako for more training in early April, and hopefully after that, taking a trip to Ghana with some friends to escape the hot season and get to the beach. I'm going to need a vacation by that point. I can tell that the hot season is inching closer and closer because it is getting near 100 degrees by mid day and I can't sleep inside anymore. My house is just rocks that bake in the sun all day. Funny how they showed us how to build a heat conserving mud brick stove that is built just like my home.

What is Dave gonna do?

2008-01-19T10:35:00.000-05:00

After 2 weeks of training, I'm finally done and my head is full of ideas. The question remains: What do I do next? Well, to begin I am going to travel back north relatively slowly. Tonight, I am going into Bamako in search of a hot shower ("Insh Allah!"), American food and a beer. I'll spend two nights at a hotel and then take a 10-12 hour bus ride to Sevare on Monday morning. When I get to Sevare, my first project will begin. My buddy Phil and I have decided to go hunting for supplies to build solar food driers. We have two different plans, and aren't sure which one is better. The plan is to build both of them and try them out... a little experiment with fruits. Solar drying will be a small income generating activity (IGA) that I hope to introduce to the village. Already, my village grows mangoes, papayas, bananas, guavas, onions, garlic, etc. The problem is that they eat them right away. When they're gone, they're gone. By introducing a solar drying technique, the villagers will be able to conserve fruit for later consumption (benefit = intake of vitamins at a later point) and/or be able to sell them in the various surrounding markets. Now, I am unsure how well they will sell, but it is worth the try. I figure that I will fund the first solar drier, as it will only cost a few dollars to build. Once I make it, I will bring it to village, teach the people how to use it and tell them what the benefits are. If they are interested, I will then offer instructions on how to build one for themselves. There is a village 10km away that sells bamboo at an extremely low cost; just a short donkey cart ride away! I will speak with the man that sells bamboo and builds bamboo furniture about the feasibility of providing wood and/or building the driers himself. Either way, he makes money... added business.

Next comes the BIG project! Well, one of the big projects. I have spoken with ICRISAT, an experimental agricultural organization. They have been developing millet varieties that are drought resistant, have higher yields, seed faster, grow bigger, etc.... basically they are attempting to create super-millet without the use of chemicals. They want to work with Peace Corps volunteers and their communities in order to test out the millet varieties in the different regions throughout Mali. As of yet, I don't think any one has tested the millet varieties up north yet. My plan is to speak with the main families in village and convince 4 of them to share a plot of land with me (roughly 1/2 a hectare each). These plots will all have to be pretty homogeneous in terms of soil condition, shade trees (preferably none), compost composition, water availability, etc. Once I determine where the 4 plots will be, I will divide the 4 plots into 5 subsections. I hope to acquire 4 super-millet varieties for each plot, plus use the local variety as a constant (I get to play scientist! Who would have thought?). In terms of organization, this is going to be a huge project to get running. Everyone is going to have to be convinced to donate land for the experiment and be dedicated to working equally as hard. The variables really shouldn't be changed between plots in order to get consistent results. The project comes with a few guidelines, but it gives a good deal of leeway. The benefits of this project are that, if successful, the village will have new and improved millet varieties that they can eat and/or sell to generate a small income. As they will be receiving the initial seeds for free, I hope that they will also pass some results on to other farmers if their is a high success rate. I will begin organizing this project as soon as I get back to village, writing up a proposal in about a month, receiving seeds around April, tilling the soil and composting through May, planting in June/July, weeding the fields until September/October, and harvesting sometime in November (so Allah jabbi). Phew... it's gonna be a lot of work!

In terms of other projects, there is also the cereal bank that I want to build, but I don't have enough information on that yet. When I get back to village, I will organize meetings to determine who will be responsible for forming the association needed for the bank. Once the association is formed I can then work on drafting a funding proposal. If anyone wants to donate, I will be putting the draft up on the Peace Corps Partnership Program website. This won't be for a while, but keep your eyes open! I will have a lot more info on this subject and how it will benefit the village within the coming months.

There is also the seed bank that needs to be updated. Since I've been in Bamako, I picked up some baobab, jatropha, moringa, and Senegalese acacia tree seeds. It will be nice to go back to village with something tangible. Also, I have learned valuable gardening techniques that have to do with composting, raising soil fertility, erosion control, channel irrigation, aeration, etc... that I hope to implement when I return. I really just want to grow some carrots, actually. I also have ideas in my head about building a library and additional school building in Beguma, getting 4-6 India/Mali pumps for the well in my village, and a trash collecting campaign in Douentza. I probably have too much on my plate as it is now, but it is good to have available options in case of failure or if the villagers aren't motivated towards a certain idea. I will learn to practice patience, flexibility, and motivation over the coming months.

Info for Mrs. Kelley

2008-01-17T10:11:00.001-05:00

After all these years, we're reconnected! And, I don't even have to stand on my head and spit wooden nickles! You didn't leave a contact e-mail on the blog, so I am hoping that this will be effective. Yes, I am interested in keeping contact with students at St. Francis. There is a program through the Peace Corps called the Paul D. Coverdell World Wise Schools Program. It connects volunteers around the world with students and teachers back in the States. I have not fully looked into the program, but I know it works more effectively when the volunteer sets himself up directly with a teacher. Also, I'm pretty sure that the Peace Corps reimburses postage (always a plus!). If your students are at all interested in learning about Malian culture, the education system, agricultural practices, or even just life in general, I would gladly correspond with them. You can contact the Peace Corps through this website (http://www.peacecorps.gov/wws/), or we can just write back and forth... depending on if you would like the formalities or not. The Peace Corps may even send you educational supplies for you and your students, so it is definitely worth looking into. St. Francis provided me with a strong educational background; therefore, I look forward to giving back any way I can... except monetarily at this point! Also, there is a village next to mine where the students are beginning to learn English. Perhaps they will be able to write as pen pals with the students at St. Francis if their English improves. If not, I am friends with the teacher, and I am sure he would be thrilled to act as translator in order to bridge the cultural and language gap. The students could learn so much from each other. Contact the Peace Corps from the website or send me an e-mail/regular mail with details.

My e-mail is: davemunsell@hotmail.com

Or you can write to:

Dave Munsell, PCV
Corps de la Paix
Douentza, Mali
West Africa

A jour e bon?

2008-01-12T12:35:00.000-05:00

I'm back at the Peace Corps training center for two weeks of Agricultural/French/Fulfulde lessons and it is awesome. I am eating really good food. I had green beans today and nearly peed myself with joy. Back in, say 1992, had my Mom said, "David James, you're going to eat this green beans now because one day you won't have them and you'll even crave them," I would have called her a big liar and said I was just gonna eat my french fries and candy bars. Well, those green beans today definitely filled my belly with pure food-joy.

I have been here a week and am looking forward to another week because the food and company is just so easy to appreciate. In the Peace Corps, the number one lesson to learn is the value and quality of what you normally take for granted (such as green beans!). When you're at site out in the sticks eating "To," reading by a kerosene lamp and listening to people you barely know babble on in Dogon in front of their rock houses, you can only imagine how good a burger, a beer and someone to speak English would be at that time. Comfort food has a way deeper meaning for me now.

Besides the food (can you tell how happy it makes me?) I am actually learning a lot of really practical information that I will bring back to site and implement there. My first goal is to train the villagers to make and use compost. As of now, they take straight up cow poop and just place it on the fields. Generally this adds too much nitrogen to the soil and causes the plants to turn yellow and "burn." Although making compost seems like such a simple and small project, it is the education of the villagers that will be the toughest part. I have to convince them that this project, even though it will tend to be more labor intensive, is actually worth the extra effort. If you've kept up with this blog, you'll remember I wrote about the experimental Farmers' Field School. With compost, this is were I will finally be able to test out the theory/practice.

The other day we built a water containment cistern out in the garden from a mud brick form, chicken wire and mortar. Getting the mortar to stick to the chicken wire was the most difficult part and it took me a good 20 minutes to get the right wrist/arm motions down. Had I built a cistern in village without any prior experience, I would look like a complete jackass trying to toss mortar onto the frame. This is the best part of IST. The Peace Corps training staff has prepared a full schedule of programs to train us on. We are able to do all of the activities through a hands-on process in order to work out the kinks and learn how to create them successfully. Over the next few days there will be more training as well as developing a calendar for the next 3 months at site until the next IST. I haven't given my individual site calendar too much thought, but I have many ideas floating around in my head. I'll write it up later in the week when I have a more concrete idea.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-27T05:01:00.000-05:00

The Peace Corps is aging me... I look older than my 23 years. I don't really have a mustache, though... that's just from lack of shaving regularly.

Christmas rocked in Mali. I rode a camel (which is seriously uncomfortable), slept on the fringe of the Sahara Desert (which is seriously cold), and rode fast in an offroad vehicle (which is seriously bumpy). All in all, it rocked.

I celebrated the Tabaski/Li-ah/Eid/Muslim New Year in my village and I ate more meat than I have in one day than in all 5 months here combined. My village slaughtered around 40 animals (which is seriously bloody!) and roasted them all throughout the day. That's a lot of meat for around 200 people. Between all the meat and around 15 rounds of Malian tea, my body was wracked and I didn't sleep that night. The villagers doned their finest white robes and went out into the fields to pray during the morning. Following the prayers, we all went to the local imam's house where he slaughtered lambs and goats, then to the local chief's house where he slaughtered more animals and people tooled around on motorcycles. Then, the slaughtering culminated in the slaughtering of a cow and lots more sheep and goats at my jah tigi's (host family) house.

I am going back to village this afternoon for a few days and will return to Douentza for New Years. After that, it's on to Bamako for In Service Training and hopefully some Americanized Food.

I read a quote from a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ethiopia in the 1960s. It was something along the lines of "I respected the Ethiopian customs and culture, but I could never fully adapt. I am just an incurable American!" That's me. As much as I enjoy village life, I can't stay away from Douentza where there are some modern amenities (although I still lack electricity and running water), I'll never wear the Malian clothing again, I cook semi-American food almost daily, I value American contacts (as I don't have to explain myself because the cultural values are innate), etc.

In other news, I have adopted the Peace Corps Stare. Upon first arriving in Mali, I noticed something odd and spacy about the current volunteers. I couldn't quite place it, but something was definitely different with these people who had lived in Mali for an extended amount of time. Speaking with the current PCVs, it was difficult to get their attention at times, as they would be staring off into space lost in some unseen fog. This is the Peace Corps Stare and it comes from spending hours, days, weeks, and months as the solitary American in a village where you are constantly lost in thought. You are able to tune the world out and find some comfort within the deepest recesses of your mind when you can't figure out what is going on around you... this happens way more often than you can imagine. The Peace Corps Stare is pretty serious and it can be difficult to get the attention of someone caught deep in it. It's almost like a zen/trancendental activity where you become completely immersed in your thoughts and leave the physical place you're actually in. I've been caught in this Peace Corps stare and my villagers have to scream "Amadu! Amadu! Ada milla faa hewi!" (Amadu you think too much!) in order to get my attention. It can definitely take some work to get me back into reality from the Peace Corps stare! This is definitely a useful tool I have adopted in order to pass the time at site and on those terribly uncomfortble bus rides.

Have a great New Year! This post is sporadic and doesn't make much sense or explain too much, but that's where I think I'm at right now. Hopefully I can find a faster computer to post more pics, as I have tons of awesome new ones.

Quick Post

2007-12-14T10:23:00.000-05:00

I climbed the mountain, and it was awesome. I didn't think I would be in Douentza right now, so I didn't bring my camera. I will get pictures up at some point because there are some wicked good ones. I climbed with Eric from Nebraska and Fikru from Colorado. He camped in a cave, had a bon fire, drank some cheap whiskey out of plastic bags, and listened to country music while warding off imaginary hyenas with hollers, whoops and my big machette! There could have been hyenas... I think our fire, noise and big knife just scared them off. We WERE camping in a cave in the middle of Africa!

I wrote an e-mail to Dylan today and I am gonna post it here because it gets some points across about prospective Peace Corps service and may give some people a better idea of my life here. Hope he doesn't mind me posting it.

"what up?
Good to hear from you. You're seriously applying for the Peace Corps? That's awesome. We're gonna have to have a long talk on the phone sometime so I can explain many things to you. What I can tell you right now though is that the Peace Corps is the most contradictory life experience you'll ever have that combines the lowest of lows with the highest of highs that equal up to one wild emotional rollercoaster. I've only been here 5 months, and I have 21 to go, but I feel like I've lived an entire other life since I arrived. My thoughts, rationals, opinions, values, and everything else have all changed. I hope for the better. I have really learned to slow things down and take life as it comes, as I have FAR too much time to sit, think and refelct upon the past events of my life. It is one hell of an adventure and I am enjoying it thoroughly... minus becoming violently ill and having delirius fevers from time to time (they can be scary sometimes... combo of crazy malaria meds and high fever delirium equal really bad drug trip from a movie!) Combine the lows of the sickness, lonliness, feelings of isolation, etc with the highs of climbing mountains, speaking multiple languages, experiencing new cultures, and generally rocking and rolling and you can almost begin to understand the contradictory emotinoal rollercoaster that is Peace Corps life.
Apply sooner than later so that you can hone in more on what you want. I was too eager to just begin my service and took the first prospect that came. Had I waited, I may have got South America. I have actually forgotten almost all of my spanish now! My head is full of Fulfulde, Bambara, Dogon and French... I hope I don't forget English next! I spoke a little spanish today. but it was harder than pulling teeth. Anyway, as to getting what you want out of the Peace Corps app process, it is wierd how things work out. I am very happy in Africa. I love my village (we grow some tasty mangoes and guavas), have made awesome friends, have seen some terribly amazing sites, and opened up possibilities that I never knew were possible. Africa is poor, but the hope, happiness and resilience that the people harbor here is beyond words. It's just incredible. Strive for what you want, but if you don't get it, just go with what you get. It should work out. The Peace Corps is an amazing way to discover not only the world, but yourself as well. I read yesterday in a Hemingway book that traveling to different, exotic lands will not change you nor erase your problems because you are who you are. This is true to an extent. What you can attain from travel is a broader base to build upon. You can take everything in that you see, hear, touch, and smell and use it create your life the way you want. The Peace Corps is a great way to site back from 2 years, build up your resume, learn an incredible amount, hone in on what you want out of life, mature, and focus yourself.
I wish you luck and please feel free to send me questions any time. I hope this e-mail helps you out. Good luck with finals coming up and tell everyone i said hey when you see them over winter break. Hit up some mountains for me, as I won't see snow for another 2 years! If you need a friend to write a recommendation for you I will gladly write it up over the internet. who knows, maybe having an official PCV speaking on your behalf will give you some weight!
-Dave"

Take care everyone!

2007-12-03T07:13:00.000-05:00

Here is the mountain we're climbing next weekend!

This is my buddy Salif playing with Rufus. I think he's like 12 years old. The kid studies the Koran and speaks about 4 different languages... he is very bright and helps out when we us PCVs are in Douentza.

This is me and Rufus hanging out in Douentza... as you can see he really likes to gnaw on my hand.

I start teaching English tomrorrow... I have never taught before, so this should be a trip. Ha teaching English through Fulfulde!

2007-11-23T11:24:00.000-05:00

I traveled north into Gao on an overnight bus to celebrate Haloween a few weeks back and it rocked. On Novenber 1st my friends and I hopped in a small pirogue that barely floated (it's many leakes were patched before my eyes) and rode 2 hours down/across the niger against the current through rice paddies until we came to the Rose Dune. The Rose Dune is immense and rises from the banks of the Niger; it is a mini desert in the middle of the Sahelian region. As the sun was setting, we hiked up the dune, and, as temptation proved too strong, we rolled down losing everything in our pockets. It was just like going to Sandy Neck with Grandpa when I was little... only 10 times bigger and in Africa! The first picture is a view from my seat in the Pirogue and you can see a thin pathway leading through a rice field in the middle of the Niger.

This following picture is of the dune from the river. Sadly a picture just does not do justice to the immensity and beauty that the dune projects when you are seeing it for real. To the top, it's about a 20 minute walk from the banks of the river, which by no means is anything extensive, but the view is awesome from there. On one side is the Niger with the shores of Gao lighting upon the opposite bank. The other side stretches endlessly in a mix of Sahelian/Saharan landscape; the sandy ground cover is pocked with low, tough shrubs and small rising dunes.

Here I am looking uber-Peace Corps with my jeans rolled up, scruffy face, shoeless and the ever present Nalgene dangling from my pants.

I finally got a dog and his name is Rufus! Here he is playing with his favorite toy. It's really just a bunch of rags that I tied together, but he loves to rip it apart. Now I just need to teach him how to play fetch. Any advice on how to effectively train a dog? I am desperately trying to westernize him and it is working to an extent, but it's a lot of work. Believe me, I have plenty of time, though! He pretty much eats anything I give him... even beans! I didn't think that one would go over well, but he really enjoys them. He jumped out of the basket I tied to my bike the other day and scraped himself up badly, but he is healing and there doesn't seem to be any lasting damage; he's a dumb dog, but at least he's tough. Jumping from a moving bike at about 25km/h!

Thanksgiving was good and thanks to everyone I was able to speak to on the phone last night. That was truely awesome and it really made my night. I just wish I could have been there with all of you! Everyone sounds like they are doing really well staying healthy and that is all I can really hope for. I actually had an America-ish meal of duck, pork, cranberry sauce, pasta salad and sangria and it rocked so much. I am still full almost 24 hours later. My body was definitely not used to the richness of the food, but it was so worth it!

I'll hopefully be able to update this blog around Christmas if not sooner. I am going on a hiking trip next to Douentza in about 2 weeks and will get some really good photos. I have plans to go rock climbing in Hombori at some point in the near future. Christmas will most likely be spent in Dogon country, which definitely entails hiking. The next month should be filled with these types of fun activities. And, this week I am going to see about teaching english in the village next to mine. Finally.... real work to do woohoo!

So you wanna know about my work...

2007-10-21T08:50:00.000-05:00

Great news! I finally know what I am supposed to be doing here, and it only took three months! This week I had a tutor from Bamako come up to my site and stay with me. I had around 30 intensive hours of Fulfulde training and I am now able to speak about my work, conjugate the differenet verb forms with a lot more fluidity (I still speak Fulfulde like a Dogon because of my village), and have really increased my vocab knowledge. My tutor, Dauo, acted as a translator one night in a conversation between me and my homologue. Basically, my village has three main goals that they would like to accomplish. First off, the village received funding a few years ago for a seed and cereal bank. A small stoarage house has built and some seeds and cereals were bought. The village was able to increase profit by loaning seeds at first. People were able to pay back the seed loans with interest and the bank was running successfully. One day, the accountant running the books just up and left with all of the moneym leaving the villagers back at square one. My first job will be to find more funding to build a new and improved storage house and large stock. In January I will return to Bamako for inservice training and learn all about the Peace Corps Partnership Program and how to write grants/proposals and receive funding. This goal seems easily attainable and I am really excited to get it going in the coming months.
The second goal or the village is to improve the productivity of the community garden. Right now (mini hot season) the village is harvesting the millet that was grown in the rainy season, which is their main food staple. This will be accomplished within the next month. The next step is to begin working in the garden during the cold season. The villagers grow tomatoes, onions, garlic, bananas, mangos, papayas, lettuce, lemons, and other various fruits/veggies. Basically, they want me to introduce ways to increase crop yield so that they can eat more food that contains the necessary vitamins to maintain good health and to increase profit when they sell the goods in market. For the next three months I will be doing "farmers field school" experiments in order to see what works best. This means that I will take a plot of land in the garden, divide it into sections and change one variable (while the rest remain constant) in order to see what works best to increase crop yield/health. I will be experiementing with different natural fungicides, insecticides, and fertilizers. This should be some really exciting work that produces results that I can see and share with the villagers.
The third goal is more complicated, but it includes water conservation techniques during and after the rainy season because they receive so little rain this far north and it always comes and goes at different times. I am not too sure as to what I can do for this, but I will be able to look into digging wells, building irrigation canals, slowing soil erosion, and working on compost. This job should be a trip, but I will go into it head first.
All in all, I'm pumped to finally know what my village wants to do and it is really driving me to learn Fulfulde faster so I can work more effectively.

I might get a dog today! I am just waiting for these little kids to bring it over to the house I am staying in. I told them I want a black male puppy. The black dogs here always look so much healthier and cleaner, and I don't want a femals dog because I don't want to deal with 10 puppies in the future. I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

Anyway, it's about that time for my 25km bike ride home woohoo! Caggal Jooni.

Updates from the north!

2007-10-11T12:21:00.000-05:00

I'n here!

PETA members look out, I'm now a proffesional turtle surfer! This tortoise lives at the training center and only has one eye. He spends his day running into people sitting on chairs to knowck them over, busting through screen doors to scare the girls and chasing everyone around... he can really move! And, he loves to mess with people.

So, on the way up to site 2 weeks ago we got into a pretty bad bus accident. After leaving Bamako early in the morning, the bus was heading north at the usual breakneck, horn blasting speed. About 30 minutes into the trip I was dozing in my seat dreading the 15 hour sweat box ride when the driving started honking incessentaly. Normally the bus driver hnoks to move cattle, goats, birds, pedestrians, other cars, small children, etc. This time he was really laying it on. The driver then slammed on his brakesm careened left and I was shaken from my nap rather violently. I pulled the curtain from the window in time to see a small white truck bounce off the front of our bus, skid off the road, and come to a grinding halt. There were a few men in the back of the truck and one was flung out onto the ground... luckily he was ok except for some pretty nasty cuts on his back and elbows. The front of the truck was crumpled in like tinfoil bu the driver was able to walk away from the accident. On the other side of the bus a man was pushing his moto, which you can see in the pic above. When he was the bus coming straight at him, he ditched the moto, which was dragged under the bus like a vacuum, and ran off the road as we barely missed him! The bus went off the road, blasted through a stand full of gasolinem broke through an open sewer covered by increments of concrete and missed plunging into a drainage ditch by a mere 8 inches. Looking at the scene of the accident, I couldn't believe that we hadn't flipped. Being on the bus, it felt like it was going over, but the driver handled the situation very well.

This is my house at site and the guys hanging out are some local villagers. As you can seem it's not much more than a pile of rocks glued together with mud, but nonthe less, it is the nicest house in the village because it is brand new and has a door and windows that close AND lock! Imagine that!

Hey Dad I got some of your Munsell Appraisal Service hats out to my Malian counterparts. The man on the rightm Ousman Kassambaram is my homologue and I will be working with him for the next two years. The guy on the left is Tijani Ongoiba and is kinda like the village go-to guy. He can fix everything.

This is me and my friend Ben right before going to swear-in dressed in our finest Malian outfits... kinda like a pajama party!

I'm in the club!

2007-09-22T07:33:00.000-05:00

Alright, i'm now an official Peace Corps Volunteer! after 2 months of intensive training at homesite and Tubani So, we all (76 people, I think) swore in at the American Embassy in Bamako. The cermeony was long and conducted in French, Bambara, Sonrai, Fulfulde, Tamasheq, and Donnaso.... so basically I didn't understand a word of it! There were brief explanations in Englsih, but they were few and far between... even people that I didn't think spoke French went up to the podium and addressed the crowd in French.

After the cermemony we were invited back to the American residence where the Ambassador and his family live. There was a ton of amazing food which included kabobs, rice, beans, salad and bread. After that we went back to Tubani So and had a cookout (sort of...) with hanburgers, Ruffles, Doritos and French Fries... I ate more yesterday than I have in the whole 2 months I have been here so far. Hopefully I put on some of the 12 pounds I've llost already.

Last night there was a party for us at a club called The Pirates Club... cheesy pirate jokes were told all night... it was awesome. Later we stayed at a hotel and went swimming almost until the sun came up. I was able to sleep in a room with air conditioning, but now my lungs are kinda messed up... go figure. A lot of people got a cold from just sleeping in such nice conditions.

Today I had some pizza and am just hanging out at the Buearu Office and may go to a party for Malian Independence Day (which is today) hosted at the American Club by the local marines.

I leave for the Mopti region on Sunday and will be installed at my site on the 26th. Basically, my birthday is going to be a very different sort of birthday this year (for thos of you that don't know, I'll be 23 on Sept. 27). Malians don't generally celebrate birthdays, rather they only know the year they were born on, but not the day... and thos are the more educated Malians that tend to life in more urban settings.

Birthday wishes aside, I'm really pumped to get up to site and start doing my community based assessement to determine which projects are actually feasible. It is oging to be ridiculous only communicating in Fulfulde because my level is barely communicable. I did pass the test easily and am able to communicate basic ideas, but living in a community of Peuhls and Dogons is gonna be a trip for sure! I will be able to see some Americans at least once a week or every other week when I have to go into a large market area to buy food supplies.. I definitely can't live in "to" alone. I bought a gas tank and 3-burner stove, and the Peace Corps gave me a cookbook, so we'll see what I can cook up!

That's about all for now. Next time I update this I'll have a pretty good idea of what life in my village of roughly 100 people is like and I'm sure I'll have many new culture shock stories.

Oh yea, I got walked in on again by the little 2 year old girl when I was taking my bucket bath. She stood there staring at me until I finally doused her with a cup of hot water (malian feedback???) Hahaha that got her out of the nyeggan real fast . Don't worry, that water wasn't that hot.... it's just i was naked and she wouldn't stop staring at me. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

A Few Pictures

2007-08-29T14:15:00.000-05:00

My host father, Amadu, on the left and his uncle listening to the radio and making tea at their home.

Here I am alive and well at Tubani So. This picture was taken about 2 weeks ago.

These are my host brothers and sisters posing by one of the many cows that my family here owns.

Here is the house that I stay in at my homestay village. The room with the blue around the door and window is mine. You can see one of my host brothers and host sisters.

A quick note

2007-08-29T07:56:00.000-05:00

Chuck Norris once shat from a two story nyeggan... and got splashed!

haha i hope you all appreciate that one as much as I do!

Bus rides, fish, beer, and animal sacrifice... just another day in Mali.

2007-08-28T17:40:00.000-05:00

I have seen the light at the end of the tunnel. I only have about 3 weeks left until I finally finish training and swear in as an official PCV and I can’t wait. Over the last week I have traveled north to the Mopti region, met many current PCVs already in the area, checked out my site near, and have become so optimistic for my future. The adventure began when my Malian counterpart, Ousman Kassambara, came to Tubani So for training and to take me north to the village. We struggled through communication in my limited Fulfulde abilities, but managed to get on a bus due north. I traveled with my counterpart and about 8 other PCTs and their counterparts. The bus was hot, crowded, smelly, and packed to the brim with people, animals, baggage, bikes, and car parts. Air conditioning on the bus consisted of periodically opening and door and quickly shutting it. I probably sweat out more water than I could drink, which helped because I didn’t really have to pee that often during the 12 hour ride to Sevare. At Sevare we were told to all get off the bus and stay at a hotel called Mac’s Refuge, which ended up being the biggest mistake in my favor! Once off the bus, Peace Corps vehicles showed up to take us to the hotel and realized the mistake when they counted us. Ted and I were supposed to keep traveling the 3 hours further to Douentza! Instead, we got to have an amazing dinner of steak, green beans, and French fries. After, we had a few beers at a bar and then ended up at the hotel where Braxton sliced his hand open on the ceiling fan while trying to set up his mosquito net. What a mess!
The next day I woke up first around 5, took a long shower, used a toilet (a first in Mali in over a month of being here!), and ate a huge breakfast of brewed coffee, pancakes, and fruit (more firsts!). Peace Corps vehicles dropped Ted, my self, and our counterparts off at the bus station where we got on another bus for the 3 hour ride to Douentza. After about an hour, we were stopped by the Gendarme (bush police), who came on the bus and checked everyone’s IDs. Continuing on our journey, we made it to my site in roughly 3 hours. Ousman and I were met along the road by some of the local villagers and they helped my bring my bike, bag and mosquito net tent the ½ kilometer into the village.
I was brought past the mosque to my new home, which is brand new and awesome. It is made of rocks and held together with some mud and sticks. There is a rock wall around the house, which serves as a fence creating my own little compound. I have a double bathroom outside… one side for bucket baths and the other for, well, other. The only problem is that some villagers have peed in my bucket bath area… my sanctuary of clean! They completely defiled it and I have vowed never to take my sandals off in there. I will address that concern once I can figure out the correct Fulfulde words.
The villagers built me a huge overhang out of rocks, lumber and palm fronds that keep my pasty skin sun free during most hours of the day, so I am very fortunate for that. And what a task building the overhang was. They didn’t let me help, but I understand why now. I am amazed anything gets done the way they work. For 4 hours the men yelled, argued, threw mud at each other and made obscene gestures. When the dust finally settled and the mud slinging stopped, I somehow had a beautiful new overhang in my yard. It rocks.
Upon arriving in village, my new neighbor asked me if I liked to eat chicken. Of course I eat chicken! He left and came back about 10 minutes later with a squawking chicken, a big knife and a mission. Before I knew it, the chicken was dead and there was a pool of blood in my compound. Nice. Next thing I knew, he left with the chicken and came back with a goat. The goat was kicking, screaming, etc and he told me to come with him. I followed the guy to his house and he put a chair out for me and motioned for me to sit. Before I could even get my butt on the chair, the goat was on the ground, neck slit, head reeled back, and blood was spouting out into the air! For a solid 15 minutes the goat-turned-Pez-Dispenser was breathing, kicking, sputtering, and writhing on the ground as I watched in disbelief. My neighbor then picked him up, sliced off the skin, which was more like violently ripping the clothes off an unwilling person/goat (?) until it was “naked.” He then sliced open the belly, pulled out the insides and went to town hacking away at the body. What do you know? Another first for me. Butcher shop 101.
I had four meals that afternoon/night and stayed up late drinking tea in my compound the village men. Around 11pm I went to sleep for the first time in my new home and couldn’t have been happier to get the rest.
The next day I was introduced to all the members of the community (I think there are about 100… it’s a wicked small village) and given a full tour. Beyond the village is an amazing mountain backdrop, which I cannot wait to climb and check out the view. Coming down from the mountain is a stream that apparently runs all year and is my main water source. There are fields that climb the mountain and an oasis of banana, mango, and papaya trees that line the banks of the stream and spread out beyond it. My counterpart said that in mango season we goes to the stream, plucks mangoes from the trees, and eats until he is full. I can’t wait! There is a community garden that is rather large and disorganized by the stream where I will be doing a lot of work and experimentation with differing crops, fertilizers and composting methods. I will also be updating an existing seed bank and creating a cereal bank for the village (I had initially planned on captain crunch, frosted mini wheats, and cinnamon toast crunch, but I will have to settle for rice, millet, and sorghum…bummer).
The rest of the visit to my village consisted of eating massive loads of “to,”a bland, disgusting dish made of millet and a baobob leaf sauce… and apparently a lot of sand, drinking lots of tea with the locals, bumbling through Fulfulde, running (seriously, running) to the bathroom, and sweating like a maniac in the heat. Oh right, I was able to convey the fact that I don’t like fish. I said, “Mi namata liddi.” –I don’t eat fish. My counterpart said, “You don’t eat any fish?”
-nope, no fish.
-what about big fish?
-no fish.
-what about small fish?
-nope, no fish.
-fresh fish?
-no.
-how about dry fish?
-really I don’t eat any fish!
The next day I had four meals, all before 11am! The first was a giant bowl of “to” smothered in a fish sauce. My counterpart says, oh you don’t eat fish! He then pulled out all of the fish, smiled and said everything was ok! It was not ok… I nearly threw up gagging and forcing that damn fish paste down my throat!
I also went to a baptism on my last day, which was really unique to see. All the men sat in one area while a prayer was read. A goat was then slaughtered (of course!) and then we hung out and ate dates… which are really tasty. I was then given a kola nut, which the old men like to chew on. It is a stimulant of some sort and has the most bitter taste I can imagine. Popping the kola nut into my mouth and beginning to chew, every last drop of moisture in my head has automatically siphoned to the kola nut in a mad rush! I started laughing and spit everywhere as all the men laughed at the strange white guy who had no idea what he was doing! I eventually got the hang of it and actually enjoyed the kola nut experience. Go figure.
I met PCVs that live in and around Douentza, who will be my main means of keeping my sanity and making sure that I don’t forget English over the next two years. I spent a night in Douentza where we went out to a local bar that was full of all guys just dancing with each other (no, it wasn’t a gay bar. Malian omen are deemed prostitutes if they go into the bars…. And yes, there were prostitutes there. One guy was offered one for about $4. Thank god he said no.) We had a few beers, laughed at the guys dancing and ate goat kabobs until our stomachs bulged. The following day we woke up at around 6, caught a bus back to Sevare and met up with the rest of the PCTs and PCVs in the Mopti region in order to travel back to Bamako the day after. Traveling here sucks, but it is a necessary evil. On the way back this woman was staring at me while chewing some root like Mr. Ed that was getting all over her face. It was probably the least attractive thing I have ever seen. Because she was sitting in the bus aisle, she kept elbowing me, then, she decided to go to sleep under my armpit. Later, she sat on my arm rest and kept scooting backwards until she was practically on top of me! I wanted to throw the woman off the bus, but instead I just fumed. She was just so imposing and I wanted my personal space. Another 12 hours later, we made it into Bamako, stopped at the Peace Corps office, got some food down the street, caught a ride to Tubani So and now I am here and ready to become a full fledged volunteer.

Anyway, I’ll be going back up to Mopti at the end of September and my new mailing address will simply be:

Corps de la Paix
Dave Munsell, PCV
Douentza
Mali, Africa

Overall, life is good here in Mali and I can’t wait for the next chapter in my Peace Corps adventure. I have seen what my future here looks like and I am really pumped for it. The next few weeks will focus more on the technical side of training and I will hone in on my Fulfulde skills as well. Look for more updates to come.

I'm connected!

2007-08-19T14:29:00.000-05:00

Hey I got a phone from the Peace Corps yesterday and picked up a brand spankin new sim card in Bamako today. Try calling me at +223 506 5799. Depending on how you call, you might have to add a 001 and maybe another 0 or two before the +223. I think that's what you dial to get out of the US, into Mali and to my phone in particular. Use Skype.... it's cheap and easy.

TIA man, TIA

2007-08-18T07:49:00.000-05:00

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!

One request

2007-08-09T07:47:00.000-05:00

Please send mail! Anything... letters, postcards, pictures... whatever!

Dave Munsell
Corps de La Paix
BP:85
Bamako
Mali, Africa

Oh yea, I found out that I am moving to the Mopti region in 6 weeks (after training) to a village near Douentza... check it out!

Wow...

2007-08-07T08:31:00.000-05:00

I'm back at the training center for 2 1/2 days of, well, training! I got back from 2 weeks at my homestay site and it was a trip! I live in a little tiny mudbrick house in a village down a long bumpy, watery road. There are about 30 cows and chickens that live in my front yard as my family are Puehl herders from the Mopti region. They moved to Sala in 1986. I have taken on the name of the father so everyone calls me Amadou Bary. It's pretty cool and I get to feel really accepted. He has two wives, Fatumata and Diko, six kids, tons of relatives and two houses. My family here does pretty well for themselves. I can tell because they feed me sheep almost every day, which is expensive. All I want is some chicken oh well. There is no running water in the village, no electricity, no plumbing, etc... I have to go to the bathroom in a little hole in the ground called the nyeggen. It's not fun. I got really sick from eating too much goat and sheep intestines all the time in oil... it's what they feed me. I don't eat it by choice! I have to eat it out of a big bowl with my hand and it's wicked messy, but I am starting to get better at it. The sickness was a real bummer because I was running to the nyeggen every 15 minutes for 3 days and I was dumping out of both ends... simultaneously, which i didn't even know was possible! I definitely avoid laying on the nyeggen floor after throwing up to avoid all the flies and cochroaches. My little room is always covered ni crickets, really loud big bugs and a yellow and purple gecko that shows up a few times a day. The room is painted light blue from the peace corps... all the trainees rooms are blue, with blue around the door and window outside. We call it "toubab blue" so everyone can find us. I have a tin roof that collects massive amounts of heat and amplifies the sound of rain to something resembling a jet engine. It's actually cooler than I make it sound.

I was bit a few times by a bug called a "blister beetle." Yea, it injects acid under your skin, blisters up, pops, and deteriorates all the skin around it. Real fun. So that happened on my arms and chin the first week. Those healed up, but I have a nasty burn scar on my arm. It's a sick battle wound. The clincher was waking up last week with a new blister beetle bite between my eye and nose. That was the worst pain and it was all gunked up and bleeding... I thought I was going to lose my eye. No worriers, I just washed it all the time, applied bacitracin and a week later I'm all better. Woohoo!

On a better note, I sit around outside on a mat every night, read, write stuff down, try to speak Fulfulde with my host family and watch the sky. It is HUGE in Africa. I wrote a ton of haikus one night out of pure boredem and recited them to my fellow PCTs... they loved the creativity. I'll post some up when I get a chance. Night time is amazing here becasue it is just so serene and calming in a tiny village. Everyone just hunkers down at night when the sun goes down and relaxes. I have my kerosene lamp to read by and it's pretty much all I need at this point. I have barely even used my iPod so far. I am really saving it for when I desperately need some American culture and technology. Books definitely work for now.

The language I am learning, Fulfulde, is wicked hard to learn because there are so many arbitrary rules on when to change letters, conjugate verbs, make words plural, deal with money, greet everyone a thousand times, etc etc etc it's just insane! I'll get it if I keep pushing on, though.

Mi yahan janngoyde. Jam wallen-en! (I'm going to study. Spend the night in peace)... typical goodbye in Fulfulde!

Moving Right Along!

2007-07-24T17:05:00.000-05:00

It's my last night in TubaniSo before going to my host village. We leave here at 8am tomorrow... got med kits, a bike, a helmet, and a mosquito net. Apparently there is a trunk waiting at my homestay site filled with all sorts of goodies. Oh yea, the bike is wicked nice cause it's a trek. I am charging my ipod now so i can bring some tunes with me to help fall asleep at night. My days are going to be real busy... about 6 hours of language training 7 days a week. The village that I am going to is a fishing village, so I figure I am going to lose a lot of weight real fast! I can't stand fish, but I have cliff bars and beef jerkey to eat! I should have brought more M&Ms.

I am really excited to get to my homestay village just north of Bamako and start learning Fulfulde. Fulfulde, also known as Fulani, will be very beneficial to learn because it is spoken throughout Western Africa in different dialects. Because I am an Agroculture volunteer, I will be living in a very small rural village (basically, out in the sticks!) so I will not really have the opportunity to learn French until later... and that's if someone in my village speaks any French. I'm bummed out about that, but excited for the Fulfulde and over experience, nevertheless. I met a representative from my homestay village today and we were trying to communicate with each other, but it was so hard! She has laughing and repeating things while I was drawing pictures and pointing. I drew all sorts of musical instruments hoping they would have them. She gave me the names for them and put her thumb up... we'll see if anyone plays them! After the 9 weeks of homestay are up I will most likely be moving north to the Mopti region.. I have sand in my future! I can't wait for it though. It is the Sahel region that comes up towards Timbukto and Gao... not quite desert, but close. I really hope there aren't as many flies and mosquitoes there because they are insane here! Sleeping in my mosquito net tent is just like camping. We've been calling this place summer camp or africa-light haha. I can't wait to get out into the real world by moving to my village! Look for more posts in a few weeks, as I will be without internet for 2 1/2 weeks.

Dave

I made it!

2007-07-21T08:59:00.000-05:00

After about 30 hours of travel, I have finally made it to the training center in Mali known as TubaniSo (too-bawn-ee-so) and it is awesome. I am staying in a little hut with two other guys. There are actually 81 of us here... we're the biggest volunteer class ever! I am having a great time and learning tons and I will move into a village with a host family on the 25th. I'll live with them for 9 weeks until I am ready to go out on my own! Woohoo!

Hey I'm famous!

2007-07-06T14:10:00.000-05:00

Cool... someone found my blog and put it up on www.peacecorpsjournals.com. That's pretty awesome. People can find me now.

I guess that means I should put up some info so people that don't know me can have a little bit of an idea of who I am.

My name is Dave, I'm 22 years old, and I graduated from Syracuse University in May 2007. In just under two weeks I will be heading to Mali to volunteer with the Peace Corps as an Agriculture/Gardening Extension Agent (the "Agent" part is definitely the coolest aspect of the title) for the next 27 months. I was originally set to volunteer in Tanzania, but something happened with the Peace Corps (not exactly sure what...) and half the program was cut, so I was moved to Mali and have had an extra month at home to see family, friends and make some money before I go. It has been great to be home for this extra time, but I am real antzy to get going and start the next big chapter in my life. Look for more updates once I get to Mali after July 20.

Alright Then

2007-06-26T16:34:00.000-05:00

Well, quite a bit has changed since my last posting. It would seem like I should be in Tanzania by now, but due to changes I was switched to Peace Corps Mali and will be heading out July 20 (I start staging in Philly on July17). I am wicked excited for this and can't wait to go but definitely enjoying my time at home while I have it.

Look for more posts once I actually get to Mali!

Whoaaaaaaa..........

2007-05-08T19:57:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I just finished college... or at least the work aspect. I finished up my catering job two nights ago, turned in my last paper, and finished my final exam a few hours ago. All I have to do now is show up and look good for graduation on Sunday. I guess it is time to rock out for the next few days until the family arrives in 'cuse.

Graduation = 5 days
Red Sox at Fenway = 7 days
Peru= 9 days
Staging/Tanzania = 34/36 days

Counting down.

Yeaaaaaa it's coming down

2007-04-25T13:59:00.000-05:00

Where to even begin? College graduation is in a mere 18 days away and my life is about to undergo the most tremendous change I could ever imagine. Since beginning kindergarten some 17 years ago (1990), I've always looked forward to the end of the school year and the beginning of summer break. Life was simple; I always had the fall to look forward to when I would return to school. Yes, there were changes in schools, and some as big as entering high school or even going off to live the college life. I always knew I would be attending classes come fall, but now that is no longer inevitable. For the last four years I have lived and breathed college. Friends have come and gone, classes have filled my head with incomprehensible amounts of knowledge, I traveled Europe and studied in Madrid for 5 months, and I've rocked out the fraternity life back in Syracuse. My time at 'Cuse has been amazing and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I've realized that, although it is cliche, nothing lasts forever. It has taken a lot of soul searching, but I think I am finally ready to move on. College has been one hell of a milestone in my life, but the next holds so much more for me.
In 22 days I will be heading off to Peru with my father for 10 days in search of a South American adventure. We've booked hostels in Lima and Cuzco, as well as a 4-day hike where we'll be camping along the Quarry Trail en route to Machu Picchu to explore the ancient ruins. I am so pumped for this and cannot wait to share the experience with him.
But the real big news is that in 49 days I will begin my "staging" for the Peace Corps and in 51 days I will fly to Tanzania where I start my training and work as a Village-Based Extension Facilitator for the next 27 months of my life. Tentatively, I will be returning in August 2009! Seeing it in text, it seems so far away! On the other hand, I remember looking at my year book in 5th grade and seeing class of 2003 written on the front. 2003 seemed like it would never come back in 1995. Now, that time period appears just to be another drop in the bucket. 2009... Bring it! I ask myself daily, "Am I seriously doing this???" The answer is always, "Hell yea!" I am going on an adventure... no one gets to go on adventures anymore. For the most part, my friends from college will all be making good salaries out of college, but they will be confined to teaching, accounting and business jobs or going onto further education. I am not ready for that. What would my answer be if I was taking a job working behind a desk in an 8'X8' cubicle and asked myself daily, "Am I seriously doing this???" If you guessed "Hell yea!" then you'd be completely wrong. I can't settle down at this point in my life. Put me in a mud hut! Tell me to grow my own food! Give me a task to help out a village in a developing country! I want to learn through this experience!
I couldn't be luckier having received an invitation to volunteer in Tanzania. When I found out that I would be serving in Africa, I was nervous that the Peace Corps would send me to a country located somewhere in the Sahara Desert. I did not want to live in a desert where water, the essence of life, is extremely scarce. Apparently, someone must like me! I'm being sent to real-life "Lion King" country! Tanzania is surrounded by Africa's largest animal reserve and is home to the Serengeti Plains, Mt. Kilimanjaro, borders Lake Victoria, and is situated on the East Coast of Africa and the Indian Ocean. Almost any animal you can associate with an African safari lives in Tanzania... Elephants, lions, flamingos, crocodile, wildebeests, giraffes, zebras, cheetahs, etc.... the list just goes on! I really just have to worry about the tennis ball size tarantulas and poisonous snakes. I'm definitely going to keep my mosquito net pulled tight around my bed at all times!
There is this excitement for my future growing in my eahc and every day. Although I love college and everything it stands for, I am ready to move on to the next stage of my life. I want to see what else is out there. What Africa has in store for me is a big mystery. At this point, I know that I will live and work in a rural village in Tanzania. My work will be focused on agriculture and forestry, including sustainable development farming, environmental protection, and HIV/AIDS awareness. I will learn Swahili (Kiswahili), live at the same level (economically and socially) as the villagers, and learn things about the world and myself along the way. I am nervous to leave my family, friends, and everything I know behind for such an extended amount of time, but I know these are natural feelings. I'd be afraid if I wasn't nervous to leave everything. For the time being, I mind as well get my fill of American culture and do the things I enjoy with my family and friends because my future is taking me along a route that is unimaginable to most. I can barely even believe I am doing it! Still, I can't wait to see what is in store for me over the next 27+ months. Rock and roll.