At the convergence of Islam and drag?

Ladji, Isa, and Yacouba playing a little dress up during a 'shɛni' (dance party) held on 'Selideni' (the Muslim holiday at the end of Ramadan).

This year, the Islamic holy month of Ramadan lasted from August 1st through August 30th. During this time, Muslim people are obligated to fast during the daylight hours. On August 30th, the fast is broken by the Muslim holiday of 'Selideni' (Eid ul-Fitr).

Since the Bambaran people were traditionally animist, only later to be converted to Islam, there is a constant tension between the religions which can be seen daily in these communities.

I have found that though everyone considers themselves Muslim, they also wear 'boliw' (animist fetishes) for protection or good luck, such as a belt placed on all babies with leather pouches containing such items as the skull of a guinea-fowel, and perform traditional music and ceremonies in contrast to the religion.

In my village, the majority of people actually did not fast during Ramadan. Primarily only the 'cɛkɔrɔbaw' (elder men) participated in the fast. Part of the reason for this is no doubt that the holy month of Ramadan happened to take place during the period in which most of the work in the fields must be done. But despite this, I have found that other nearby villages held to the fast in much stricter fashion.

During the month, I was constantly asked about my religion. In the past, I had listened to the advice of former volunteers in describing myself as Christian. The idea is such that Malians, and religious people in general, have a hard time accepting that someone can believe in nothing. They can relate to you as long as you express some kind of religious sentiment.

But I never felt comfortable telling this lie. With no disrespect to organized religion, I feel that a big part of who I am is that I do not associate myself with any church or religious sect.

The past month in pictures...

This past month in village has seen continued work in the fields, continued migration of the youth into the city to make money, and the first half of the holy month of Ramadan, which lasts from August 1st through August 30th.

The following are some pictures I took during this time. Beneath each picture I provided descriptions and/or stories to help provide insight into village life and what I have been up to:

The final remnants of 'gingy.' From left to right: Dara 'dɔɔni' (Small Dara), Mami, Bahumu, Drissa (her son), and myself. I have given Dara 'dɔɔni' this nickname to his annoyance due to his small stature in comparison to Dara 'bɛlɛbɛlɛ' (big Dara). He has become one of my best friends in village.

All of the 'dɛnmisɛnw' (young adults) in village have their own 'gɛrɛ,' or group of friends who generally gather together every night to chat until about midnight, and each group has given themselves a name. I have generally become a part of 'gingy,' which is Bambaran for owl. They selected this name because the owl stays up all night and makes noise. I greatly enjoy chatting with this group because it involves both men and women. Normally in this culture, the men chat seperately from the women.

'Gingy' used to be about 12 people strong, but unfortunately, with most young men and women leaving for Bamako to make money 'fini gɔsi' (pounding Baizan clothing) or working as housemaids for well-off urban families respectively, our numbers have greatly dwindled. Dara is actually leaving on Saturday, and Mami already left on Wednesday. I joked with them that 'gingy' has died, but will be reborn in December when everyone begins to return.

My host-uncle Badama cutting 'sɛbɛ,' which became my favorite treat in village. This is a hard fruit that is prepared by cutting the fruit into large wedges, and removing the large seed within the fruit. The wedges, with the fruit still on the hard skin, are then cooked in an iron pot over the fire.

You don't actually eat them, but you pull the orange-colored, pulpy fruit off the skin with your teeth, chew and suck out the juice, then spit out the actual fruit. To be honest, I was not impressed the first time I tasted it - it was alright but not worth the hype the villagers placed upon it. But I quickly acquired a taste for it to the point where I find it irresistible. Unfortunately, 'sɛbɛ' season is now over.

Dɔɔni Dɔɔni (Little-by-Little)

Behavior change and empowering a community to take steps on their own to improve their daily lives are particularly difficult tasks to undertake as a development worker, but I feel they are the most important. While working in this capacity, it is the little things that matter... small steps forward, small steps back. In the end, you simply hope that in aggregate, you are continuing to move ahead.

In this vein, the following is a description of the different activities I've been engaged in over the past month, and how they've faired both positively and negatively:

Hand-washing

I consider the encouragement of proper hand-washing with soap prior to eating to be one of my most important objectives as a water and sanitation volunteer. It may seem like a simple change to make, but getting people to realize the strong correlation it has with the reduction of disease, and to then change their habits, is a very difficult progress.

Whenever I am around anyone who is preparing to eat in village, I first observe what they are about to do. If they bring out soap and water, I enthusiastically applaud their efforts. If they use only an old tomato paste can of water to dip their hands in, with which each person reuses the same dirty water, thus making their hands more dirty than when they began, I emphatically, but not in a rude way, condemn their behavior and ask where the soap is. I then explain how proper hand-washing kills the germs on their hands, which can significantly reduce the occurrence of illness.

A few weeks ago, while I was on a 'yala yala' (walk-about) through the fields, I visited a peanut field where my host-brother Ladji was working. Around noon, we sat down to eat a lunch of 'tɔ pasalɛn' which the women had just brought on foot to the fields. To my astonishment, he pulled out a bar of soap he had kept in a small plastic bag in his pocket. I praised him enthusiastically for this, particularly since he did not know ahead of time that I would be joining him. He truly has bought into the practice, this wasn't simply a one-time attempt to impress me.

It is a hard enough task to get people to use soap at home, but in the fields is another matter altogether, since it means carrying soap with them when they head out in the morning to the fields. So I later asked Ladji what made him decide to begin bringing soap to the fields.

Smooth sails...

My last post dealt with the recent issues I have had with Lassana, my homologue. I wanted to provide an update on how things currently stand.

As soon as I returned to village on July 21st, I sat down with Sorti, the acting 'dugutigi' (chief-of-village), and Dramani, the 'ji ni saniya ton sigi ɲɛmɔgɔ' (water and sanitation committee president). I described to them the current situation with Lassana, and they agreed that his action to call my supervisor was in poor form.

Since Lassana had said that I don't want to work in the community, I also took the opportunity to again clarify my role. I told them that my work is not to give them money. I am not a standard NGO. And because I am not readily dispensing money, Lassana says that I am not working. Which if that is his definition of work, no, I admit I am not.

What I am trying to do is to teach the villagers how to help themselves improve their quality of life. I intend to build capacity within the community by teaching them skills which will enable them to plan, design, and manage projects. This includes budgeting and raising money within the village itself.

Sure, I could throw all kinds of money at the village and we could build a lot in the next year. But once I am gone, the village would be reliant on foreign aid, and if foreign money is not available, they would not do a thing but wait.

I told them that my goal is to ensure that when I am gone, they can work on their own to improve their village year after year. THIS is my work. If, when I return to America, they do not have the skills nor the will help themselves, I believe that I have not done anything.

So I again restated Lassana's position that my work is bad. I told them that 'if you and the majority of the village agree, then I will return to America right now. But if, as I suspect, it is only Lassana that thinks my work is bad, then I want to stay and continue to help the village.'

They both said that my work is very, very good, and Lassana's work is bad. So I promised that I will stay on board and do what I can to help them.

Rough seas ahead...

This past Sunday, I arrived in Bamako to assist in the training of the new volunteers, serving as a guest speaker about pumps. And since I've been in Mali for over a year, I am also taking care of my Mid-Service Medical Examination.

But a fairly mundane trip turned stunning when I got into Bamako and called Adama, the Water and Sanitation Sector's assistant APCD.

Adama told me that Lassana, my homologue, had been calling him since last Tuesday. Lassana told him that I do not want to work for the village, and specifically that I do not want to work on 'his' project of constructing 10 wells. He says that I do not work, instead all that I am interested in is having fun with the young people and going to other villages at night with 'young girls' for mischievousness. He said that he has repeatedly told me to stop doing this, but that I simply told him that he is not my father.

Wow, well coming from a man who's moral record isn't particularly sparkling, I would say he is trying to get me kicked out of the Peace Corps and replaced. A couple reasons that seem to come through in his speech:

1) He is not pleased with my stance that I will not find funding for additional projects within the village. This could be both due to the elimination of his potential revenue stream, but also due to the reduced scope of community projects, which would not give him as much recognition within the community.

I have tried to work with the village primarily to build capacity through organizational development, behavioral change, and the teaching of management/fundraising skills. I stand by my stance that that is my most important role as a development worker, in order to ensure projects are sustainable and replicable in the future. Yet Lassana's perspective seems to be that if I am not handing the village money, I am not working.

2) He knows that I am aware of his previous exploitation of the system, and is not happy that I am now working primarily with other members of the community. The only truth to what he has said dates back to May, when I served as a 'kɔnyɔnbɛna' for my friend Daouda's wedding (an experience I detailed in a post from May 12th.)

I had been sitting with some friends, and even Seykou, the Engineers without Borders mentor, who happened to be in my village at the time. We were discussing what my role would be in the proceedings, when Lassana happened to walk by and overhear us.

A day in the peanut fields ('tiga fɔrɔw') with my Malian family...

A picture of myself with my host family's bulls ('misiw.')

On Friday, July 15th, I headed out to the fields, as I have often done these past few weeks, to help out as I could and experience the life of a subsistence farmer in Africa. This time, I spent the day with my 'jatigi sɔmɔgɔw' (host family). I really enjoyed the day, especially the relaxed atmosphere which they brought to the work. Unlike my experience in Tayluru's millet fields, which I previously documented in a post on June 23rd, we actually took a break at noon for a couple of hours to eat and drink tea.

My host family owns several fields in this area, but each of my three host mothers (only one is my host father's wife, Mama. The other two, Kaja and Bintu, are actually his brother Badama's wives. But the three of them live in one concession and cook/work together.) actually have their own field. The women only work in their own fields, but their older sons, who do all of the tilling, work all of the fields together. On this day, the men worked in Bintu's field. Bintu and her daughters seeded ('tiga da') her fields. Mama and Kaja cleared brush from their respective fields, aided by their daughters.

My host brother Ladji gave me a huge thrill at lunch when he pulled soap out of his pocket that he had brought to wash their hands with prior to eating. As I have mentioned before, trying to influence this behavior change of handwashing with soap is one of my major initiatives. The women bring lunch to the men in the fields each day, and since they are eating in the fields, hand-washing becomes an even more difficult habit to instill.

I never gave any indication that I was going to their fields today, and actually surprised them by riding out on my bike. So this shows that he has actually gotten into the habit of hand-washing with soap before every meal!

Below are some pictures I took on the day:

My host-brothers Abdoullaye and Ladji tilling ('chi kɛ') Bintu's peanut field with the 'misiw shɛri' (bull plow/tiller) .

Fish Feed Area ('jɛgɛ dumuni yɔrɔ')

As I mentioned in a previous post, I had been working specifically with Sorti, the 'jɛgɛ mara yɔrɔ ton sigi ɲɛmɔgɔ' (fish pond committee president) and effectively the acting 'dugutigi' (chief-of-village), to schedule and plan the construction of a fish feed area ('jɛgɛ dumuni yɔrɔ'). This feed area should provide fish a source of nourishment, which was not available this past year, hopefully leading to an increase in both the size and the population of the fish. He selected July 1st to begin this work, but instead the villagers opted to construct an earthen berm in an attempt to thwart fish from escaping.

I continued to express to Sorti the importance of constructing the feed area now, before the water level in the pond rises drastically, greatly complicating the work. So this past Thursday, July 14th, was chosen to construct the feed area. Each of the village's four 'kinw' (neighborhoods) was to contribute three men each to the project, but unfortunately large rains arrived the night before, and nearly everyone left for the fields. To Sorti's credit, he stuck by his word and gathered who he could to help in the effort. Below is how the work was performed, in pictures:

Lassana and Sorti laying the tree branch poles to form the perimeter of the fish feed area within the fish pond. The villagers will have to monitor the water level of the pond and increase the footprint and depth of the feed area as the water level increases and creeps up the banks.

Sorti and Kasimu cutting open rice sacks (back) while Bokari and Lassana tie them together.