Social gatherings, local work, and Mali's Independence Day

My host grandfather, Yaya DIarra, passed away in mid-July. On the 40th day after a death, everyone gathers in the deceased's concession during the afternoon for prayer. During this time, the deceased's family also distributes a hand-full of candy and dates, as well as 'takola,' a small sweet-bread treat made of millet, sugar, and water. These women are rolling the dough to make the latter. Each 'takola' consists of four dough-balls pressed together to make a square.

The women cook the 'takola' at the bottom of a cauldron in a small amount of oil.

Building a foundation, 'biriki' by 'biriki'...

I had originally assumed that all of my significant work would be accomplished during 'tilɛma' (hot season). This is due to the fact that during the rest of the year, the villagers are primarily involved with agricultural practices throughout the day. Therefore, since Water and Sanitation work is generally labor-intensive, such as building pumps, wells, latrines, soak pits, etc., I figured my work would generally be put on hold until January.

But on the contrary, I have found that much of what I would now consider to be my most important initiatives require an effort year-round. These initiatives generally involve mobilizing the villagers to take an active role in the development of their village and building non-labor skills, such as accounting, communication, planning, project management, and leadership.

These are the activities which I feel can have the largest impact on the village long-term. If the villagers learn to organize and plan themselves, they can, in theory, use those skills to internally address any needs which arise in the future.

So with that said, the following is a brief synopsis of my efforts over the past month:

Water and Sanitation Committee ('ji ni saniya tɔn sigi') Monthly Dues Collection

As usual, twice during this month the men of the Water and Sanitation Committee and I walked from concession to concession within the village to collect the monthly dues owed by each household. Generally most households have paid the fee, many in advance. But several continue to hedge, complaining that they do not have the money.

Money is difficult at the moment since harvest has not yet arrived, but even with this consideration, the money that we are collecting is only 100 CFA each month, or 20 cents. This is how much many people pay each day for one round of tea, or a morning snack. So I and our committee members believe that each household does indeed have the money, but are reluctant to part with it.

At the end of each day's work, we sit down together to count the money and compare it to what was noted by the men in their books.

A couple weeks ago, I sat down with Aliwata, our 'sɛbɛnɛkɛla' (secretary), to teach him a bit of basic accounting. I showed him a format to record basic information when money is either added to or paid from the 'kɛsu,' and to keep track of the current balance. This is an important skill which may seem miniscule, but should aid the committee in all of their future endeavors.

Soap-Making Formation

Several months ago, our Water and Sanitation Committee decided to hold a soap-making formation for the women of the village. During the past month, we have proceeded in planning the formation.

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.