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