Jamanan ɲagamilɛn don, ne hakili fana. (The country is mixed up, my mind also.)

Ever since I had left my village of Makili to join my fellow volunteers in Ségou region at our consolidation point on Monday, March 26th, my mind has been racing through a mix of emotions. We were mostly, as the pun goes, ‘couped’ up in an overcrowded house, only able to leave for short periods of time during daylight hours.

I was deeply moved by the numerous, regular calls I received from friends in village checking in on how I was doing, and asking about the latest news. It continued to solidify my feelings of having found something special here, but also made me that much more anxious to return.

At the house, we spent most of our time checking in on the latest news on media websites while also taking in steady updates via email from Peace Corps Mali. It seemed like every day, some new political or military action would take place which would either make evacuation or a return to site more likely.

One day, we’d receive encouraging news that ECOWAS, the Economic Community of West African States, is sending a delegation of West African heads-of-state to Bamako for mutually agreed-upon negotiations with Amadou Sanogo and the mutineers. But the next day, we’d hear that the plane carrying the delegation was turned around mid-flight due to protests on the runways of the airport.

We then heard about ECOWAS threatening sanctions against the Malian regime, such as closing down all borders to the country and freezing the supply of the common currency shared by many of the francophone West African nations. We went back and forth on whether this was a positive or negative development. These sanctions certainly would make life difficult for the ordinary people of this landlocked country, which depends on it’s neighbors for gasoline, foodstuffs, and other necessities. But it could also induce enough pressure to cause the military junta to step down within a couple of days in favor of a transitional civilian government.

This past weekend, the news was particularly mixed. Bamako seemed to be improving. The small-scale violence and unrest that had been commonplace the past week had largely subsided, and life had returned to normal. But while the Southern part of the country (where the majority of the population lives and where Peace Corps operates) was going about life as usual, conditions in Eastern/Northern Mali deteriorated into a full-blown crisis.

As would be expected, the Tuareg rebels, many of which had just returned from fighting under Colonel Gaddafi with stockpiles of weapons, effectively used the coup to intensify their efforts in capturing their traditional homeland of Eastern Mali and forming their own nation, Azawad. For the past several months, they had captured several towns, but they now began going after the big prizes. On Saturday, the cities Kidal and Gao fell. On Sunday, legendary Timbuktu was seized by the rebels.

Worse, Islamic extremists and remnants of Al-Qaeda began hijacking the Tuareg’s rebellion. I have some sympathy for the Tuareg people, who largely feel overlooked by a Malian government whose power is found in the peoples in the South of the country, people much different from themselves. They have genuinely tried to distance themselves from the extremist groups, condemning their violence, intolerance, and their attempts at imposing sharia law. But the involvement of these other groups had muddled up the situation ten-fold, and fears began to surface that they could begin creeping southward into the Mopti region.

This past Sunday, we got an email from our Country Director Mike regarding the current situation. In the email he told us that we were going forward with a plan for deconsolidation of volunteers not within the Mopti region or within the Ségou region north of the Niger River. All volunteers who have cellphone reception and can travel from their site in a day may return to their sites on Monday. We were to return to our consolidation points on Friday unless the situation changed.

I was buzzing with excitement – I WAS GOING BACK TO SITE! I went out to grab dinner with a couple of fellow PCVs. We chatted about what we were going to do once back in site, and speculated on the future of the program. But our hopes were soon shattered when we returned to the regional house. Our regional coordinator Djibril held a meeting with all of us, and informed us that due to discussions he had with the local gendarme, he was holding us in Ségou until Wednesday in order to monitor the situation. If by Wednesday, things looked clear, we could return to site.

But after being away from site for almost a week, and knowing that we would have to return to Ségou on Friday, this was not all right with me. So I went to Djibril and argued that he should let us go on Monday. That’s what the email said after all! Nothing could possibly happen in my small village. But he wasn’t moving on his position.

I awoke Monday morning, and decided to try again to plead my case. I had since calmed down and took a more diplomatic approach. He told me again his reasons, and asked that I just give him two days, two days only to make sure all is safe.

I told him ‘I understand you are looking out for our safety, but based on Mike selecting Friday for us to return, without knowing what will happen in the coming days, it is very likely that we could be evacuated then. So that leaves five days. If you take two days out of five months (the time remaining in my service), that’s nothing. But two days out of five days, that means a lot. These people have become my best friends, my family, and every day I can now spend with them matters, matters a whole lot.’ He said that he understands, but he can’t do anything about it. He already talked to Mike and he wouldn’t allow it.

So I joined the other volunteers back in the house. But my speech apparently had its effect. I was soon called back into Djibril’s office along with Jason, our Peace Corps Volunteer Liason. Djibril informed me that he talked to Mike. Mike looked at where Makili is and determined that because it is well away from the areas under threat of attack, he has decided to let me leave today. Being the only volunteer in my region with this permission, they made it clear to me that I had to check in with all three of them each day while at site.

So I anxiously packed up and set out to catch my friend Sɛkou’s bashé, scheduled to leave for my site at noon. But just before the bashé was about to leave, I got a phone call from Djibril. He told me that Mike had just contacted him to let him know that everyone has to go to Bamako today or tomorrow due to an impending money shortage, since sanctions were soon to come into effect. ‘Ugh!’

But to my surprise, Djibril told me that I can still go to site, as long as I return tomorrow morning. I told him ‘uhh, that’s very hard. To arrive late afternoon and leave the following morning!’ He then told me that I can return to Ségou Wednesday morning instead, then head down to Bamako, no problem.

Once I arrived in my market town of Yolo and biked onto Makili, I called Mike to check in. I thanked him for giving me some extra days in village, then told him, ‘so I hear we all have to go down to Bamako? When do I need to come back?’ Nonchalantly, he said ‘well just do what you have to do and come back when you can.’ I asked, ‘so is there a time I need to be there by?’ He said ‘well, I’d like for you to come soon so we can finish up with the money and send you all on your way.’

The following day, Tuesday, while I was chatting with some friends at the ‘kalalikɛyɔrɔ’ (tailor’s workspace), I got a call from Djibril around 10AM. He told me that Mike now wants all Ségou and Mopti volunteers to go to Bamako today. I told him, I can’t do that. All of the bashes heading into Ségou today have already left. But I can leave first thing tomorrow morning. He told me he has to call Mike and get back to me.

Twenty minutes later, he called again to say that Mike told him to come and pick me up in his car, but he unfortunately didn’t have enough gas to do so. So instead, he said that he will wait in Ségou for me to arrive tomorrow morning, and we’ll drive down to Bamako together. Apparently gas shortages had begun to hit the major cities, and many of the bus companies had begun canceling their trips. So they did not want me to rely on public transport tomorrow to get me down to Bamako.

So I stayed in village until Wednesday morning, when I biked down to Yolo and caught a surprisingly empty bashé into Ségou, me being the only passenger (vehicles never leave in this country without being crammed with passengers). And they didn’t even charge me anything more despite the gas crisis.

This brief trip into Makili was different. I had already said goodbye to my village before we were originally consolidated, and so I think that a lot of the villagers began to question my judgment. I can just imagine their conversations amongst themselves going something like this: ‘what the hell was all that drama for, he’s already come back! Maliki’s not going anywhere, such a worrier!’

But it was still a sad trip back. Despite sensing some doubt about the possibility of evacuation, many of my closest friends sensed that this could be it – I was only back for a welcome reprise.

And I was particularly feeling sad that the two events that I was most looking forward to this hot season, my friend Bamoussa’s wedding, which happened the previous Tuesday, and my friend Senata’s wedding, which is to take place this Friday, happened to fall during times which I had to be consolidated. And I was to play a key role in both as the ‘kɔnyɔnbɛna.’ I figured I’d be back to site eventually after some waiting, but unfortunately I’d never get to enjoy these experiences.

I should also mention here the odd disconnect felt between Malian villages and their government. Sure, the current political situation frequently comes up in conversation, but with no real sense of emotion. They could very well be discussing another country thousands of miles away. Life goes on as usual. Women pound millet, men take to the fields. And its easy to see why. The government really has no impact on their daily lives.

I was able to get some work done. I met with our Fish Farm Committee to discuss the latest maintenance/operational plan the Engineers without Borders team and I developed. This involved many changes on how they are to feed the fish and raise fingerlings. I told them ‘I hope that I will be back to help you implement these changes, but if not, I will continue to follow up with you by phone and keep you updated on any new information.’

Generally, though, I felt that if we were going to be evacuated, it would have happened by now. I believed that within only a couple days of sanctions, the military junta would be forced to step aside in favor of a transitional civilian government, which would see the country through free, democratic elections. Sure, the fighting in the East got a lot worse, but Peace Corps doesn’t operate in that region. Within the main part of the country, our part, things will get much better and return to normal.

So I practically dropped to the floor when I arrived at our house in Ségou and Devin, a fellow volunteer who just got married Tuesday to another volunteer, Jason (congratulations!), started talking about a plane. I said ‘whooaa, back up. What’s going on?’ She said, ‘oh yeah, you haven’t been here! Last night we got an email saying that we are being evacuated!’ Peace Corps Mali had determined that they can no longer guarantee adequate support for their volunteers in light of the current political situation and, especially, the sanctions.

I was more shocked than anything. Based upon my reading of the political situation and the nonchalant conversation I had with Mike on Monday, I thought that we would simply be heading into Bamako to wait for things to improve. But we are actually leaving!

So Djibril then drove Devin, Jason, and I down to Bamako to meet up with the rest of our region, who all arrived in Bamako the day before. During the ride down, the shock began to subside, and my emotions of leaving began to seep in. 'This is really it! I’m not ready for this to be over!'

But I have been trying to keep in mind that I have gotten more than I could have ever imagined from this experience. My time in Mali has been the most enjoyable of my life, and I am prouder of what I accomplished here than anything I have ever done. And more so, the relationships I have built here will stay with me forever. Many of my closest friends are Makilians. We will keep in touch and I have every intention of returning regularly.

So at the moment, I am sitting here at the Peace Corps training facility outside of Bamako. We know that we are soon to be evacuated to another country for a 'transition conference' before we return back home to America. It is really hard to believe that this is over. Makili has become my home, and while I was going to leave anyways in five months, now is not the time. I don’t feel ready. This isn’t how it all should end. But it is out of my hands, and I can take heart that I squeezed everything I could out of this experience.

And moving away from my personal experience, 'Alla sɔnna' (God willing) the political situation will resolve itself soon and the sanctions can be lifted. Given that the region is in the midst of a food crisis due to drought already, the current instability has the potential to make an already bad situation much, much worse. I sincerely hope that this country I have grown to love can move past these turbulent times, and its people can find peace, prosperity, and democracy.