A busy final week at site for 2010...

Pig Pickin', Peace Corps Mali style.

After an amazing southern-style Thanksgiving in Ségou, complete with a pig pickin’ and some Eastern North Carolina-style vinegar barbeque sauce I prepared, I had some trouble getting back to site the following day.

After waiting 8 hours, the bashɛ (bush taxi) finally arrived after dark. The driver asked me to pay double the normal fare, sit on the roof, and told me they might not even be able to take my bike. Also considering the fact that after the bashɛ ride, I would have to bike back from my market town in the dark, I decided to cut my losses and spend a couple more days in Ségou before taking another bashɛ back to site the following Sunday.

With my timeframe constrained and only 5 days remaining at site before heading back to Ségou Saturday (today) in order to catch Peace Corps Transport to Bamako for IST (In-Service Training) and my sister’s subsequent visit, I had a busy week ahead of me.

First off, I wanted to complete my Water and Sanitation Baseline Survey, including my supplemental women’s garden survey. I was able to successfully accomplish this task, and in a previous post I went through my intentions from the information gathered therein.

I also wanted to complete an additional Baseline Survey on Food Security, which involved interviewing five men and five women in different concessions throughout the village. I succeeded in completing those by Wednesday morning. I was happy to find that my language has improved to a point where I could be successful on these surveys, even without the aid of my homologue, Lassana, who had gone to Dioro.

Unfortunately, as part of the Food Security survey, I learned some very troubling information regarding the diet of the majority of villagers. Namely, most families have insufficient supplies of food to feed their families during the hot, harvest, and/or farming seasons (covering the months of April through November). This includes millet supplies, the staple of the Malian diet, going bare. When this happens, most families look to borrow food from neighbors while also reducing the number/size of their daily meals. Additionally, most families do not eat enough vegetables throughout the year, often less than once a day, although there isn't a strong consensus on which seasons are the hardest hit.

On Thursday, I began working with Lassana, who had returned from Dioro to work on repairing my ɲɛgɛn (latrine).

'Seliba' festivities and my 'Malian family'

Malian men and boys are currently in the fields every day, harvesting ‘ɲo’ (millet). Unlike the machinery found in the West, Malians perform all of their agricultural duties with simple, antiquated tools. This is a small blade used for harvesting the millet grains from the stalk. I helped my 'jatigi' Koka for a day, and the work is painstaking and repetitive. Millet is the Malian staple grain in most dishes, such as 'to' and 'basi,' which are both generally served with sauce.

Currently we are in the midst of the harvest season and most of the village men spend every day cutting ‘ɲo’(millet) in the fields, while the women pull peanut plants from the field, bring them back to the concession, and pick them off the roots. The rice harvest season is just beginning, and some of the men in my village are spending time in neighboring villages to help with that harvest, as we do not have rice fields in our village.

My 'jatigi' (host-father) Koka, and two of his young boys, Lassana and Abdoullaye, working in the ‘ɲo’ fields.

A village woman 'susu(ing),' or pounding, ‘ɲo’ to separate the grain from the stalks.

With all of this work, the arrival of the Muslim holiday of Tabaski, also known as Eid al-Adha in Arabic, or ‘Seliba' in Bambara, was a welcome distraction. ‘Seliba’ was Wednesday, November 17th. I have previously described ‘Selideni,’ the holiday commemorating the end of Ramadan, and generally, ‘Seliba’ is celebrated in exactly the same way, with a few subtle differences.

The day before 'Seliba,' five 'misi' (bulls) were slaughtered throughout the village. Normally, 'Seliba' involves the slaughter of mainly 'saca' (sheep), but they apparently were not as available in the markets as usual. Refer to my end of Ramadan ('Selideni') pictures for the more gruesome details. I bought two large piles of 'misi sɔgɔ' (beef) to give to my 'jatigi muso' (My host-father's wife) Mama to cook for the next few days, including the breakfast I hosted on Thursday.

My spiffy 'Seliba' threads - an outfit I got tailored in Ségou out of the fancy 'baizan' fabric. It is stiff, waxy, and uncomfortable, but stylish in this country.

Although Muslims always pray five times a day, the main prayer for 'Seliba' takes place in the morning at 9AM. I joined the villagers, lined up in several rows facing East on rugs, in the field between the two school buildings to participate.

Some Initial Reconnaisance...

I am back in Ségou to celebrate Thanksgiving amongst my Peace Corps peers. I am going to get an entry up on the Muslim holiday of Tabaski (‘Seliba’ in Bambara) later, but I first wanted to post an update on the work I am embarking on in my village.

Currently, I am still within the timeframe before IST (In-Service Training, December 6th through the 17th) where we are to spend our time integrating and learning the language. I feel very comfortable on those terms, and I have also nearly completed my Baseline Survey to assist in determining the most critical water and sanitation needs of my village.

However, I am currently working on gathering initial information to repair the two broken water pumps in the village. Through some initial reconnaissance work, I have found out that the two broken foot pumps in the village actually used to be India-Mali pumps, which are the hand pumps widely used across the country, and therefore are more easily maintained.

One of the abandoned, broken foot pumps in my village.

Apparently, approximately 7 years ago, there was a widespread outbreak of Cholera in the village, which caused many deaths throughout the village. The Malian government decided that the problem was the hand pumps, so they switched the two pumps to foot pumps in June 2004.

An example of an 'India-Mali' hand pump, common across Mali.

I couldn’t understand what logic was behind that, because regardless of what type of mechanism is used, the pumps are still accessing the same aquifer, the same water. But my sector head found out that the concern resulted from the fact that people in my village do not wash their hands with soap as a general rule. A person infected with Cholera could use the hand pump, in-turn infecting the pump, and spreading the disease to the hands of any subsequent users. Then those users would eat with unclean hands, and infect themselves.

October at Site - Integration and Starting Some Work...

Over the past few weeks, I have felt many gratifying highs and some dispiriting lows. Fortunately, the lows that I have experienced have only been health related, and once I push them out of the way, I feel confident in my abilities and the experiences to come.

I have felt that over the course of my recent time in village, my language skills have improved ten-fold. I am confident in my abilities to communicate with locals on really any necessary topic, and I am able to understand much more of their day-to-day conversations amongst themselves, even with their fast-paced speech. I still need to continue to work on my skills in order to better harness an ability to have deeper intellectually stimulating conversations, but I have plenty of time to work on that.

I am also excited to report that I have begun work on my baseline survey. The baseline survey is a host of questions I intend to ask the dutigi (head of household) in each concession (each extended family) in my village, and is designed to ascertain the water and sanitation practices currently utilized. These include issues related to drinking water quality and availability, ɲɛgɛn (latrine) availability and construction, common illnesses which affect the community, community organizations currently in-place, the community’s desire for a Water and Sanitation Committee, and the women’s garden. I will compile the results of this survey and use them as a guide to determine where my efforts will be best served.

Thus far, I have learned that several of the precious few wells in village go dry throughout the hot season, making the availability of water scarce. Assisting the villagers in repairing the two broken foot pumps is a high priority for me, but building deeper wells may also be required to further address this concern. I have also yet to come across a family in-village who washes their hands with soap, most only use water before eating, and most do not wash their hands after using the ɲɛgɛn. Therefore, I plan on performing some handwashing animations/demonstrations to convince villagers of the practice’s importance to their health. This is just the tip of what I believe this baseline survey will uncover in the coming months.

Mali's Cinquantenaire...

'Sira, a ma ɲe.' (The road was bad.) Because of all of the rain we had been getting during the rainy season, the road to the commune seat had large, deep pools of standing water. Normally I would bike, but instead I opted to tag along on this 'misi wotoro' (cart pulled by two bulls). Not the most comfortable ride, but better than the alternative.

The Cinquantenaire de l’Indépendance, the 50th Anniversary of the Republic of Mali’s Independence was September 22, 2010. This was a big deal throughout the country, including my small community 100 kilometers east of Ségou.

My jatigi's son, Abdoullaye Diarra, keeping the steady hand on the bulls during the ride to the festival.

It was towards the end of the rainy season, and with all of the rain we had gotten, to bike anywhere required wading knee-deep in standing pools of water. So instead, I took a ‘misi-wotoro’ (bull-cart) into my commune seat/capital, which doubles as my market town, approximately 4 kilometers away from my village. I was surprised to see the richness of the culture that was on display so close to my quaint little village.

Some local children posing for the camera. This was all them...

I arrived into the center of town around 11AM. The Mayor of the commune was speaking to the crowd over the loud speaker to fervent ovations. After the mayor finished his speech, a group of local men in traditional hunting/militia clothing fired off sporadic rounds of blanks from their shotguns while dancing along the side of the crowd.

A group of teens, one row of men in purple, one row of women in blue and white striped-shirts and green berets, marching into the center of the festivities. Note the shirts the men are wearing: 'My Dream Barack Obama.'

Next, a group of young teens in berets marched into the center of the crowd to perform to a series of military marching commands. My favorite part… note the purple ‘My Dream Barack Obama’ shirts the young men were wearing. Barrack Obama’s face and name is plastered all over everything from sandals and jeans to playing cards and barber shops. But it is especially entertaining to me considering the man has nothing to do with the nation’s independence.

The first 'jacko' to make an appearance. This is the 'saca,' which is Bamanakan for sheep. Sheep are raised heavily for meat and wool in the region.

Feastin' at Ramadan's end...

My first experience with a celebration in my new village was 'Selideni' (Eid ul-Fitr), the holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan, Islam’s holy month of fasting. On Thursday, September 9th, Lassana, my homologue, guided me to an open field between the two primary school buildings in village for prayer. After the hour-and-a-half prayer session, we were led to a small crossroads in the middle of the village, where women from each concession came and placed a meal in the middle of the men gathered. Each meal was served in a communal bowl, and after the elder got up and mixed all of the sauces, there was a mad-dash for the men to grab what they saw was the best-made dish. To my surprise, they even allowed some of the kids to run and swipe the best dishes, deviously running clear across the village to eat away from the elder's gaze. All of the many bowls were the same dish, ‘kini ni tiga dɛgɛ naw’ (rice with peanut sauce).

After the rather rushed/chaotic lunch, men from throughout the village gathered in four separate regions within the village. Each region slaughtered one ‘misi’ (bull/male cow). The afternoon was spent slicing up the bull, making sure to make use of every ounce of meat on it’s hide. Once sliced, the men divided the bull into 85 different piles. Each pile received it’s share of muscle, fat, esophagus/stomach lining, organs, etc. Once sufficiently prepared, a man took orders for piles, and they read out each name, one by one, placing the purchased piles in bags, sacks, plastic bowls, or whatever was available at the time.

I spent the next two mornings with the village men, who bounced from concession to concession for ‘daraka’ (breakfast). For each day, we could eat at about 5 different concessions. To my surprise, each meal was exactly the same: ‘kini ni tiga dɛgɛ naw ni misi sɔgɔ.’ Apparently that is the signature dish in the region, only to be broken out for special occasions. And make no mistake, it is good. But after eating the same meal 5 times in a row, a little variety would be welcome.

The slaughter of the bull in pictures (Disclaimer for the faint of heart: Do not continue if you are at squeamish at the site of butchering):

Village men hold down the bull while the throat is cut.

A Day in the Life... My First Month as a Volunteer

My homologue, Lassana Diarra, the tallest Malian I've known, and myself in my new Malian threads, called a 'bornɛ.' 

I have just completed my first month at site as a volunteer. It has gone rather smoothly, with my time thus far being spent integrating into the community and continuing to learn the local language of Bambara. This past Sunday, I made my first trip into Ségou since being installed. I will be staying here in Ségou for a week for language training with my fellow regional volunteers.

A quick aside about the people of Mali… Tuesday at lunch, I went to get my hair cut. As I was leaving, after negotiating the price of my haircut down by half, the men asked me to stay and drink tea with them. I told them I would, but I am very hungry and want to get something to eat. One of the men then told me his family is about to eat, and asked me to join them. So I walked with him to his family’s house a block away, and ate a very good meal of rice, onion sauce, fish, cabbage, and carrots. They even offered me a spoon, but I told them in Bambara, “I am a Malian now. Eating with my hands is good.” So I ate out of the communal bowl with five other men. But that is just one of many stories which illustrate the uncompromising hospitality of the Malian people.

I figured that I would give you all a quick rundown of my daily activities at this point. Again, Peace Corps encourages us to take at least the first 3 months of service to simply integrate into our communities and learn the language, so there is not much in terms of work happening right now.

Aisseta Traoré, one of the local village women, proudly holding up a peanut plant she grew in her plot of the women's garden. Aisseta is one of the many women who like to constantly joke with me about being a Diarra, her 'joking cousin,' by calling me a donkey, telling me I eat beans, etc.