Acquainting with Rosario

Talk about an upgrade! After almost 3 years in the Peace Corps, always living in a simple mud house, my new home is damn luxurious. I live in a fully furnished two-story duplex. My bedroom, complete with an air conditioner that I haven’t yet brought myself to use, is upstairs. Downstairs is a living room, bathroom, and kitchen, complete with (intermittent) running water and electricity. The municipality even has a weekly trash collection service.

Even better… the food. So far I’ve eaten mud crabs, a variety of fresh and salt-water fish, eel, shrimp, squid, pork, beef, chicken, and a wide assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables. Pictured above, the women of the local canteen outside our municipal office prepare a variety of lunch options each weekday.

Hitha Manila

I've been through this whole training/orientation business before. Twice, in fact. Mercifully, on account of this being a Peace Corps Response position, the process has been significantly shorter. And on Thursday morning, scarcely a week after my arrival here in Manila, I will be flying out to my new home on the island of Samar.

If this city is anything to go by, my time here won't be anything like my service in Mali or Kenya. There is a Starbucks or a 7-Eleven on nary every other street corner. One of the biggest malls I remember ever stepping into, Robinsons Place, is not even the largest mall in Manila. That would be the Mall of Asia, the third largest in the world, and therefore a place I never want to go. McDonald's, always two-story megastructures here, is one of the local favorites, alongside similarly-modeled Filipino chains. Hell, there are Krispy Kremes, T.G.I. Friday's... even an In-N-Out Burger!

'The Jeepney', as seen on the streets of Manila. You jump on, ride for a small fee, and jump off at your destination. Best part... the owners get really creative in pimping their rides.

Aside from the many familiar American conveniences are peculiarities in culture and transport. They may not eat with their hands as in Mali or Kenya, but instead of a knife and fork, Filipinos eat with a fork and spoon. The spoon serves not as a 'shovel', but a cutting apparatus for tough meat. The primary mode of public transportation is the 'jeepney', a small 70's-themed minibus straight out of the mind of Jerry Garcia.

Video: Maliki ka Ɲɛnajɛ (Maliki's Party)

The following videos were taken during the ɲɛnajɛ (party) held in Makili, my Malian village, on January 17th. Please refer to my previous post entitled Maliki ka Ɲɛnajɛ (Maliki's Party) for details.

Dununw (Bambara Traditional Drumming)

Cɛba (Big Man)

The Local Side of Bamako

Every Malian who has ventured to Bamako seems to have taken a few of these pictures. Posed, in front of the gaudiest of backgrounds. Here I am with my friend Bamoussa at their friend's photo studio next to their fini gɔsi yɔrɔ. But I wasn't supposed to smile!

I never felt much of a connection to Bamako, Mali's capital city. But I'll be the first to admit that I had never really given it a chance. Bamako, to me, was always that dirty, crowded, sprawling city that I had to visit on occasion for official Peace Corps business. I always treated it as a transit point. Somewhere I had to pass through to get back to the friendly confines of Ségou.

This trip gave me the opportunity to get to know the real Bamako, outside of the government-dominated quartier of Hamadallaye and the busy market centers. While in Bamako, I stayed with Haoua, my former APCD (Associate Peace Corps Director) for Water and Sanitation. Her family was amazing during my stay, welcoming me into their home and helping me out when going to and from the airport, especially given my lost luggage.

Haoua, my former APCD, helped me out a lot in Bamako, serving as my jatigi (host family). It was great to catch up, and get to know the rest of her family during my time there. 

Tempering Expectations

Over the past year and nine months since I was evacuated from Makili, I have been in regular contact with our committee members over the phone. Despite their many challenges, I was generally pleased with what I heard from them about their work. But being back on the ground, I quickly learned that things were not so cut and dry. The committees remain active, but they certainly have plenty to improve upon.

One of the first things that stood out to me was just how filthy the pumps were. While I was in Makili, the village itself established the following two rules: that people must remove their shoes prior to stepping onto the concrete apron, and that the pumps were to be swept clean every morning prior to them being unlocked. But, as you can see from the picture below, neither task has been happening as of late.

The pumps are still in heavy use, providing the village with a safe, reliable drinking water source. But the water and sanitation committee's rules enforcement has left much to be desired.

More concerning was the lack of enforcement of the rule banning the slamming of the pump handle. Whereas the previous rules were primarily cosmetic in nature, this rule actually has significant ramifications regarding the longevity of the pump. When the handle is slammed, the actual components of the piston within the ground face undue stress which can lead to premature breakage and pump failure. Throughout my three weeks in village, I witnessed user after user slamming the handle without repercussion.

Maliki ka Ɲɛnajɛ (Maliki's Party)

On Friday January 17th, my village threw an incredible ɲɛnajɛ (party) for me. They paid for a dununw (traditional drumming) group, a local jelicɛ (griot), and, for the first time in over 10 years, actually made jakow (traditional mascots/costumes). They also slaughtered a goat for a village-wide meal of kini ni tigadɛgɛna ni ba sogo (rice, peanut sauce, and goat meat).

Everyone had a great time, and the village was clearly buzzing from the excitement of putting such a celebration on for the first time in recent memory. It was just awesome to be a part of something like this, where all of those involved are personal friends. The village as a whole worked very hard to put this together, and I can't express how much it meant to me.

Preperations

Each kin (neighborhood) made their own jakow. Thursday in Katilela, Drissa and Adama stitch together grasses from kɔlɔn kɔnɔ (the rice fields) for a jako while Badaou, Famoussa, and Bala work on tying together the wooden carcass of sticks.

Bala jokingly dances with the jako carcass as others look on.

Return to Makili in pictures...

Yɛ drives his misiw wɔtɔrɔ (cattle cart) through the dry fields of the Sahel outside Makili.

Remudding the walls of the offering site for Dumbashu (Mawlid), the Islamic holiday commemorating the birth of the Prophet Muhammad.