Random stuff

*We spent the night in a different village each night after hiking through Dogon country. The first night we slept on mats, under mosquito nets on the roof of a house. It was a tricky climb up and down as we had to climb up these logs that had niches in them for your feet. I didn’t like it. Once we got up there the roof looked smaller from on top than it did from the ground. There was only four of us and the two on the outside where precariously close to the edges, One of those people was me. Since we were up on a hill the wind was really blowing and because it was cloudy most of the day the night was cool. A little too cool. In fact, and I hate to say this out loud, we were freezing our asses off. We didn’t have sweaters or jackets with us. We only had the clothes we had been wearing on our backs and they didn’t supply us any sheets or blankets. Usually cold is not an issue. I had my head wrap that I wrapped around my body the best I could. The wind blew and the cold maintained the whole night. Didn’t sleep well.


When we woke in the morning we were just sitting enjoying the sunrise and letting ourselves wake slowly when I noticed something on the edge of the rood where the thatch for the overhang met. I was freaking out because I thought it was a snake slithering along the edge. It was 12 to 14 inches long, 1 to 1 ½ inches in diameter and didn’t really have much of a face or mouth which I thought was strange. It moved so smoothly. I was trying to find my camera (even though I was peeing myself to get away from it). I have a picture section on the large Jurrasic Park like creatures I’ve seen since being here. Giant moths, beetles, snails and the like. This would have made a nice addition to my collection. While looking for my camera and trying to keep this thing in site as to make sure it didn’t get to close and upon further observation it wasn’t a snake at all. It was a frickin centipede. Dear lord it was disgusting. A 14 inch centipede. It was horrid. It also was gone by the time I got my camera out. I don’t know where it went but I got the hell off that roof as fast as I could stumble down the log I had to use to get up there... centipede pictureless.




Good morning sunshine!!


*Djenne, the city we visited with the biggest mud structure in the world, was a real shithole. I think I mentioned. Besides all the obvious reasons...nyegen runoff running down the streets, trash everywhere, the stink...there were boys begging for money everywhere. Most of the boys that beg are called garibou. They live and are schooled in their religion and in the koran in these little schools that are located in these little rooms throughout the city (most are either orphans or are given away by their parents). Part of making their living is they are taught to go out and beg for money. Some will just stand in front of you with their little cans and stare. Some will sing to try and earn their money. As bad as I feel for them is equal to how annoying they are. They follow you and stare at you (especially us being white) and they will just not go away...even if you give them money. The first afternoon we were in Djenne we were walking down the backside of the market with our guide and these boys (around 10 or 11ish) started following us asking for money. They were not garibou, just annoying kids asking for money. The first kid I told no. The second kid I just looked at and kept on walking. He fell behind and got out of my sight and then kicked me in the ass. I was surprised and appalled. I don’t care what country you are in and how ignorant people claim themselves to be I was absolutely appalled. Respect is respect is respect in any country and I know without a doubt this child would never have kicked a Malian woman...or man or other for that matter. After he kicked me he and his friends ran away laughing I turned and started yelling at him, in English. Thankfully the kind of language I was using is not language even an english speaking Malian would understand or probably has ever heard. When my friend told the guide that the boy had kicked me he said he saw what happened and he would take care of it.
The guide sent his brother down the side street he had run down to get the boy and bring him back. About a minute later here he came dragging the kid behind him. They bought him down the side street and out onto the main road where we were waiting...the site of the incident. After the guide made sure I could see him he proceeded to beat the absolute shit out of him. By the third or fourth hit I felt kind of bad and thought that the punishment was a little extreme...they were BEATING this boy. That feeling went away though and I was hoping they might hold him so I could take a whack at him. Some older woman passed and tried to stop them. The guide told her what he had done and she said “OK” and continued on her way. Did the punishment fit the crime? I don’t know but I can guarantee that boy won’t kick anyone else anytime soon.

Back to Bougoula

September 5, 2011

Veronica and I headed back to my village.  Even after letting her know how boring and that there is nothing to do in my village she really wanted to see where I live and what I do here in Mali.  So to Bougoula we go.  It took us 3 hours on the bus.  Uneventful I'm happy to say.

The people in my village were very receptive and excited to see another white person.  We spent the 5th and 6th just sitting around, eating at the Matrone's house and hanging around my house.  Not very exciting after all we've done over the past week and a half. 

It is time for Veronica to think about heading back towards Ghana.  As our last hurrah we decided to visit Bamako.  I hate Bamako.  It's like any large, dirty city only worse.  We had some more shopping and eating to do before our travels were over.  Genni was already in Bamako so we made plans to meet back up with her a the Sleeping Camel Hotel where we would spend the night.  We took the bus into town and then a cab to the hotel.  We ate and then got on a bashe (bush taxi) to the big market.  I hate the big market.  The vendors follow and harrass and people beg and will steal if they have an opportunity.  We headed over to the artisan section as we mostly wanted to look at jewelry.  We came, we saw, we bought and then got the hell out.  We met Genni at the hotel, ate, met some folks that were touring/vacationing in Mali and got a good nights sleep.  The next day we met up with a man that Genni works with in Sikasso.  He drove us to our somewhat destinations.  I was dropped off after a 2 hour drive in Bougouni.  And Genni and Veronica went on for another 2 hours to Sikasso.  Veronica would spend the night there and then head out in the morning for Burkino Faso and then back to Ghana.  She leaves back for the states on the 17th.  It was a good time!!

September 1, 2011

September 1, 2011
We ate and we shopped and I have spent a fortune. It’s uncomfortable shopping as the folks that run the shops will come after you down the street to try and get you to come into their shops. They follow, they beg, they plead and if you don’t hold onto your purse they’ll steel if they have to. We found a lot of beautiful things though and when they see us with all our bags they know we are shoppers. I bought necklaces, fulani hats, earrings, a mask, a beautiful knife that we got to watch our friend Abu from Tombouctou make. It was an expensive day but well worth the trip and the money.

September 2, 2011
We went to a women’s cooperative today where they make and sell mud cloths. All of the colors that they use on the cloths are made from mud, bark, ash and leaves. It was very interesting. We got to make our own little cloth to take with us for a souvenier. They sold jewelry in the store. What’s a girl to do!!?? I shopped.

We left today to Sikasso. This is the beginning of the end of my trip around Mali. It was just long enough. I am shopped out and exhausted. Veronica and I will stay in Sikasso for a day or so then head back to my site. We may head over to Bougouni just because there’s nothing to do in my village and it’s not time for her to head back to Ghana yet. We’re playing it by ear. Whatever happens is whatever happens.

Just Veronica and I left Segou for Sikasso.  Genni stayed as she was going to catch a PC shuttle to Bamako on Suncay.  We got on the bus at 8:30.  The bus we got was with Wasa Transport. I was told this was the worst line and now I know why.  They seats were dilopadated, ripped, dirty and stuffing coming out.  The floor was filthy, it smelled god awful and it was probably 110 degrees and the windows don't open.  We were stuck in the very back row again.  Before the trip even began we were sweating our asses off.  There are vents on the roof that are open so when the bus starts moving and there's a breeze coming in it can only get better right?  Wrong...apparently there were bags of millett on the roof of the bus so when the bus started moving loose millett and the dust from the bags started flying around the bus.  At first I couldn't imagine what the hell was blowing in my eyes.  Then I looked down and my skin (stuck in the sweat) and covering my clothes was millett and millett dust.  I looked around me and everyone was covered in dust.  People were yelling to shut the vent and just pissed off that they were all dirty.  Finally the bus guy shut the vent.  It stopped any new dirt from coming in but of course no there's no air and because the dust and dirt is stuck in sweat there is no getting it off of you.  That's OK.  It's part of the challenges of traveling by public transport.  I can take a bath/shower when we get into Sikasso.  It's only 7 hours away.

August 29, 2011

August 29, 2011 (afternoon)

We were able to secure a private car to take us to Mopti it was a little more expensive than taking the bus but would get us there in an hour opposed to three. When we thought about what our time was worth we decided to pay up. We got to Mopti where our driver made sure we were going to get on the next bashe to Djenne. This was going to leave at 11 and was about a 2 hour ride. No matter how many times we’ve been told times and distances and length of rides and they have been nowhere close to what we were told we actually believed we were leaving at 11. Not to our surprise but to our dismay we finally got on the bus and out of the parking lot by 1. The ride was crowded and hot and squished and fairly unpleasant but we made it in less than 2 hours. Just before actually entering Djenne there is a river that we needed to cross to get there. So with a jolt and a bang the bus drove onto this barge like boat and across we went. We had a little trouble when we arrived on the other side as there were some men (not in uniforms) that were trying to make us pay a “tax”. No one else...just us white folk. We told them we weren’t going to pay and we didn’t understand what they were saying and finally in all their frustration they let us go through. We were dropped off in front of the big market where we met up with our next guide that would show us around Djenne, take us to the Mosque (the largest, oldest mud structure in the world) and help us around the market. We went to the hotel and then headed to do some shopping. I have already spent more money in these 3 days than I have the entire 7 months that I have been here. But I have been waiting to travel and shop since I got here. This is probably going to be my one and only big trip and shopping spree. Let me at ‘em!!

Djenne is a sad turn of landscape compared to where we just came from. It is muddy and filthy and strewn with litter. It smells just awful. Rotten food and sewage seems to be the main culprit. It is one of the dirtiest places I’ve seen so far. After shopping it was already getting dark so we headed to the restaurant and then to the hotel to get a good nights sleep. Tomorrow is seli (the end of Ramadan). We are going to tour the mosque and participate in morning prayers and then we are going to head into a fulani village (by horse cart because the roads are mostly washed out to other transports) just to see how they live and celebrate.

The Great Mosque of Djenné is the largest mud brick or adobe building in the world and is considered by many architects to be the greatest achievement of the Sudano-Sahelian architectural style.  Although the original mosque on this site was build in the 13th century this particular updated version was built in 1907.  It is one of the most famous landmarks in Africa.

The Great Mosque of Djenne.

The horse ride was great. It was only 5k but seemed alot further being tossed around in the back on the cart like a rag doll. The fulani village was clean and spread out enough to be comfortable. The people were different looking in that they circle their mouths with henna and some of the children had interesting haircuts (shaved with a circle of hair on top). There is also some jewelry and ornate earrings that are worn specifically by the fulani. The more we walked around the more we realized that these people did not want us here. There is one woman that you can take pictures of (she gets paid) that was really upset by our presence. I totally understand. They feel like they are being exploited...I felt like I was exploiting them. It was an awful feeling. But they do it regardless of their feelings because the money that we paid to get there is given to the village for the schools. They don’t really have a choice I guess. But it wasn’t the highlight of my time in the north for sure. I left feeling depressed and sad for them...even though they are making money from our visit. I would have rather just given it to them and stayed at the hotel. In the morning we are leaving for Mopti then Segou.

August 31, 2011

We have arrived in Segou. Segou is considered one of the bigger towns in Mali. Bigger than Bougouni, smaller than Bamako.  It has a lot to offer in a small space. There are restaurants (I’m totally having pizza for lunch) and coffee shops, a market and a lot of artisan shopping. Again, I can’t wait to shop. We’ll head out tomorrow after breakfast.

August 27, 2011

It is 9am and I am the only one awake yet. I’m feeling antsy and want to wake up everyone else but I know it was a long night and know their bodies need rest. So I am updating my blog and being patient.
We ate breakfast and met up with our guide that would take us into Dogon Country. For 40,000cfa ($80) we would have a guide for our 2 days of hiking through Dogon villages, up into the cliff dwellings and across part of the saheli (desert). This tour would include 3 meals a day, accommodations and transportation out of and back into Bandiagara which is no easy feat. We left the hotel about noon. We drove just a few minutes on the street until we headed out a dirt road. This trip included about 1 ½ hours of back country, rocky, mud driving in an old Toyota 4 runner. I don’t know how these cars survive here with the abuse they take. I’m grateful I decided at the last minute to put on my sea-bands (motion sickness wrist bands). I would never have survived. Like most of the rest of our trip so far the scenery was incredible. Lots of trees, green landscaping, some running water (thank goodness it’s rainy season or it would have been barren waste land), all the kids out herding cows and sheep. Of course everyone we passed stopped to look, laugh and wave to us. Not a lot of tubobs come out this way. We were an anomily for sure. We finally arrived at the village where we would begin our hike. Although the hike did not cover a lot of ground across, it sure did cover a lot of ground up and down. We hiked through ravines and drop offs where just piles of rocks were the steps that we used. All I can say is never look down. It was exciting, scary and definitely good exercise. My thigh and ass muscles will never be the same. We hiked, stopping in small villages along the way until 6pm. The villages were amazing compared to what we have seen so far in the villages that we live in and/or bank and shop in. They are small (500 or less people), well built considering some of the structures have been there forever and clean. CLEAN...what a nice change. We saw the buildings were they lived, were they cooked and were they stored their food. We also saw the “menstruation” house. This is where, still to this day woman are expected to stay 5 days a month while they have their period. The kids were so excited to see us and no one seems to know the word tubob. Thankfully we had a guide as communication would have been more difficult than usual as there are only a few people in these villages that speak Bambara. Most speak the different Dogon dialects. We ate, we were taken care of and greeted like we were royalty. It was amazing.



This is the type of hiking we did in Dogon for 2 days.  Up and down and down and down and up rocks all day long.  It was awesome.



The menstration house.



The ravine we had to cross.  If you looked down you could see straight to china.



August 28, 2011
This morning we were up, ate breakfast and headed out of village by 7:30. We hiked up and then down and then up and then down most of the day. We finally were able to get to the point where you can see the curvature of the earth. It was hazy and it’s hard to get the full effect as you can’t see to both ends at the same time. This area, the desert, is so vast and enormous and breathtaking. We were sitting on cliffs high above the desert floor and my first thought is that if there is a god certainly he has walked here. I know I use the word amazing a lot, but there is not many other words that can describe what we were looking at. We just sat and watched and looked and contemplated. Amazing!!  (Since I have been back I looked up about being able to see the curviture of the earth from the ground.  It's pretty much not possible to actually see the curviture from less than 60,000 feet...I'm glad I didn't know that at the time because you think your seeing it and it's a wonderful feeling.  Humbling would be the word.)

Contemplating life overlooking the saheli.



Why did the PCVs cross the deep, deep ravine?
To get to the other side of course!

 We headed back out and up and down and up and down. I tended to lag behind a bit here and there..not too far behind mind you. I attribute that more to my short legs than my age. I think I did a damn good job considering I don’t do much (any) rock climbing at home. We ended this days adventures in a village just underneath some of the cliff dwellings that we would be hiking up to. When we got back though it was getting late and would be dark soon. We decided to wait until the morning before we left Dogon to hike up the rocks to the dwellings. We ate, we bathed (which we hadn’t done up until now) and we slept. We slept on foam pads under mosquito nets on the roof. I had just gotten into a deep sleep after watching stars and lightning before the men that were taking care of us coming running up onto the roof to move us because it had started to rain. So we readjusted and resettled and right back to sleep. Since we were leaving Dogon and heading back to Bandiagara at 7:30 we had to be up and dressed and ready to move up the cliffs at 6:30.

The hike was steep but not very long. Before you knew it we were standing on cliffs and in dwelling that were hundreds and hundreds or years old. There used to be ladders that went up the cliffs which is how these dwellings were accessed in the past but those are no longer there. There were structures that were graineries (separate ones for the men and women), the living quarters, the meeting places were all disputes were settled and decisions made. We passed an area were up until 1976 they made human sacrifices. There was an area where babies would be delivered. They would sacrifice an animal and then deliver a baby at the same time rubbing the blood on the mother...from what I could understand . There were paintings on the back wall behind the dwellings. These paintings are changed and redone during a festival that takes place once every 60 years. I’d like to be in village for that celebration. Every person, inshallah (god willing) will get to see only one festival in their life time. And I’m sure they spend their lifetime looking forward to it. It is time. It’s almost 7:30 and if we want a ride back out to Bandiagara we must leave now.

The cliff dwellings.

Spot in the cliffs where human sacrifices were made
until 1976 when they were forced to end this traditional practice.

These paintings are changed at each Dogon Festival which takes place
every 60 years.  The lucky will get to attend this fetival once in their life.

The ride back out was as bumpy and muddy as the ride in. But before you knew it we were back in town contemplating our next move.

August 26, 2011

We arrived at the gar (oh the gar...what a horrible place) at 9am and actually where on a bus heading to our first destination where we would have to change buses by 10:30. We were lucky that it only took an hour and a half and also VERY lucky that the sun was not out and it was threatening to rain. The temperature was probably 15-20 degrees cooler than it could have been if the sun had been out. The first part of the trip although uneventful took a bit longer than it should have as it seemed that our bus driver stopped every 2 miles to pick someone up, pee, pray or get something to eat. Un-frickin-believable. It should have taken 3 hours, from what I understood and instead took us 5 hours. We finally arrived in Bla and had to switch from a full size bus to a bashe (bush taxi) for the next part of our trip going to San. A bashe is a full size passenger van, approximately 20-30 years old with hundreds of thousands of desert miles on it. They take the seats out of put in wood benches that extend around the perimeter of the inside of the van. They could sit up to 15 people (I’ve seen up to 20 or more people in them at one time), huge 80 kilo bags of rice, chickens and goats. We were lucky it was the 4 of us and only one other person. This part of the trip should take 1 ½ hours...so they said. 3 hours later and stopping only about 6 times to either pick someone up or drop someone off we arrived in San. Although it was a bumpy ride as bashe’s usually don’t have much in the way of good, sustainable tires or shocks...or brakes for that mater...and considering you could see through holes in the floor down to the road, and considering that half the windows were missing and the doors don’t shut all the way, it was actually a nice ride. The scenery was beautiful and even though it wasn’t far in distance you could see the terrain changing as we were moving out of a rainy season area into what would be more desert. We passed through several small and some larger villages. Waved to people on the side of the road that could apparently spot a tubob (white person) from a mile away in a moving vehicle.

Our plan was to spend in the night in San as it was already dark when we arrived and we had already been traveling for 10 hours. But when we arrived our chauffer tigi (bus driver) told us there was a bus that would be coming into San at 8pm and driving directly to our next and final destination of Bandiagara. We felt lucky to make a connection that quickly and directly to our destination spot without other stops in between...supposedly. He told us that it would be 3 hours to get there. We could be there and sleeping by midnight. You would think we would have learned something along the way even though we were only 10 hours in. That thing being that double whatever time they tell you it’s going to take and you will have a better estimate of timing. Regardless, we got something to eat, waited until 8:40 as nothing in Mali is on time or sticks to any kind of schedule and finally got on the bus to Bandiagara. We had to basically squeeze in the back but thought we are on the road, it’s night so it’s cool and it will only take 3 hours. Count our lucky stars, try to close our eyes for a little while and before you know it we’ll be there.

As it turns out we stopped several times, for what I’m still not sure, but just a minute or two and then 2 hours in they stopped for a half an hour for a bathroom and food break. We continued on our way and didn’t stop again until we were at some kind of check point were military personal boarded the bus and started checking ID’s. They only did the first few rows, checked some of the luggage on top of the bus and then went on about their business. That was another half an hour. So that puts us, what? An hour behind. NOT SO MUCH. Our 3 hour trip took 7 hours. We arrived at Bandiagara at 3:30 am. Exhausted, cranky, in pain, because if you remember we were squeezed into the back of the bus, and dirty. Traveling has got to be the dirtiest part of this Africa adventure. The dust blowing into the bus, the filthy buses in general, people throw their trash and left over food onto the floors and of course there is all kinds of luggage and packages spewn about the place...like chickens. We waited for about 45 minutes for the person that will be our guide for the next couple of days to come and get us to take us (walk us) to a hotel about ½ mile down the road. By the time we got here, got showered and got in bed it was almost 5am. I’m thinking we won’t get a real early start in the morning. But that’s OK. We have nothing but time for the next week or so. All in all, including stops and eating and bus time we have been traveling for 17 hours. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And we are here!!

Vacation time is here!!

August 25, 2011

For the first time since I’ve been in Mali I am finally getting the opportunity to travel. A friend of mine, Veronica, that was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mozambique a few years back has been in Ghana for the past two months on a volunteer job. That job is completed now. She left Ghana a few days ago to travel through Ghana and Burkina Faso to come visit me in Mali. I am so excited to see a friend...here...in Africa...and to travel. We are going to visit in Sikasso, then head north to the Mopti region and visit Djenne, which is home to the biggest mud structure in the world, and to visit Dogon, which was home to the cliff dwellers many years ago and whose structures continue to exist. We will do a 2 or 3 day hiking trip with a guide. Interesting fact, there are only a few places on earth where you can see enough of the earth at one time that you can actually see the curviture of the earth. I am excited to see that, if nothing else just to say that I did. Then we will visit a few other touristy destinations in the area, do some serious Artisan shopping and hopefully get some real authentic souveniers of Mali and gifts to bring home.

I was in Bougouni helping the volunteer in that area, with several other volunteers to paint a mural on the wall in a school in her area. I am leaving this morning to go back to Bougoula, change my clothes, pack my traveling backpack and leave again for Sikasso. My village is actually part of the Sikasso region but Bougouni was set up to be my banking town because it is only a 45 minute bus ride from my village opposed to Sikasso which is 2 ½ hours. This is my first time going past my village in the other direction (east). I’m excited. Veronica has already been there for 2 days because she got in early. She has been staying with a friend, Genni, from my stage that lives in the area. There is definitely a special commorauditry amongst the PC community, current and previous, that I am grateful for so my Veronica didn’t have to try and find a hotel and stay by herself until I was able to catch up to her.

After a quick uneventful (which is always a welcome surprise) bus trip I arrived in Sikasso. Took in a lot of harassment from the taxi drivers and others at the gar (bus station) until I finally found a “real” cab and arrived at the restaurant to meet Veronica and Genni...and from what I understand they met another American the night before staying in Mali for a few months with his cousin who lives nearby with his wife and 5 children (6 on the way). They met him in a restaurant and started chatting (as we tubobs tend to do). He has been wanting to make this trip but it is difficult enough traveling around a country when you have only some language skills, but he has absolutely none. So being a perfect opportunity, he decided to tag along. So within minutes of arriving at the Sikasso gar I am finally sitting quietly with Veronica, Genni and our new travel partner Jacob. We sit and chat and catch up for a couple of hours, have something to eat and head to Genni’s house as the plan is to leave early in the morning to start our adventure.

I'm not a field hand

My jatigi came to my house at 7:30 am telling me to get up and get out of the house I was coming to the fields with him (and 10-12 other men of the village) to aerate and weed the fields of corn, cotton and peanuts. He told me that he told the PC regional coordinator in my area that I am lazy. All I do is sleep and I don’t work. My jatigi said that the coordinator said that I was to work in the fields. First of all I know he would not say that. I was bought to Mali as a health worker not a free field hand. I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to tell my jatigi that he should wake me up in the morning so I could work in the field...and that my 24 year old jatigi should be the one to give me these instruction. Secondly, I was bought to Mali as an health extension agent, not a field hand to do hard physical labor. I told him this. I also told him I don’t sleep all day. Just because I’m not out in the fields doesn’t mean I’m sleeping. It doesn’t mean I am lazy and it doesn’t mean that I don’t like to work. I came here to work with the Matrone at the maternity clinic, who, by the way is the one that made the request to PC for a volunteer to come to this village. She has not had me into work with her except for once (the infamous testicle story from earlier in my blog) in the 4 months I’ve been living in Bougoula. That is not my fault. I sit out at her house or the butiki (both of which are next to the maternity clinic) every day for hours just in case she needs or wants me to work with her. I don’t know why she requested a volunteer or what she thinks I am there to do but if she chooses not to have me work with her no matter how many times I tell her that’s what I’m there for I don’t know what to say. But I sure the shit am not going to work in the fields. End of story. He was shocked, by the way, to learn that working in the fields is not what I did in America.

Ramadan

Ramadan is the Muslim new year celebrations. It lasts for the entire month of August. They eat breakfast by 5am, wash and pray. Pray throughout the day as well but do not eat again until after 7pm. During the day they not only fast, but they do not drink any water, tea...nothing. They are also not allowed to tough their wives or husbands during this same time. I have had a couple of conversations with some Malians about this practice. They live in one of the hottest places on earth and they don’t drink anything all day long. It’s unhealthy and dangerous...in my opinion. The biggest reason for fasting is self inflicted suffering to show god their loyalty. They don’t see the problem.
The above of course is the way the “good” Muslims celebrate the holiday. In my village I see most people, the younger crowd, not following the tradition as closely. They eat and when I question them they say they’re hungry. They drink tea and water because, of course, they’re thirsty.

Ramadan has to be hard on those selling street food and food and produce at the market. No one is eating and in the evenings they cook for themselves and their families. When you go to the gar (bus station) there are women and girls there selling sandwiches, hard boiled eggs and the traditional rice with red vomit sauce. The women are still there but no one is buying. It’s supposed to be a holiday. Not cause extra hardships for the people of Mali (so I would think)

Bashi jiri a bana (Moringa trees are done!)

August 21, 2011 –


So I hoped for the best and got the worst. The matrone had some men/boys (15, 16 years old) come to her field to aerate and weed. I saw them doing it but didn’t think too much about it...until the next day when I had a terrible thought. I walked around out in the field to find that all but 4 of the 20 bashi yiri trees that we planted had been weeded. Now these guys didn’t know but two things bother me about this. ONE...by each tree that was planted a stick about 2 feet high was posted in the ground to mark the spot. How easy would it have been for the matrone to tell these guys to watch out for the sticks and the plants that look like “this” (and point out the trees themselves which were already 8 or so inches high) and not to dig/rip them up with the weeds. TWO...how could these guys not look at these 4 rows of 5 sticks in each and not think to themselves, “there’s a pattern here, I wonder what it could mean”...and then ask!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! I was so mad to say the least. The matrone said, oh well, a bana. They’re done. What’s the frickin point.

I sat with my matrone with 3 patients at the clinic. 3 sick children. All appear to be suffering from malnutrition. This time of the year... Then the mother of one of these sick children was also not doing so well herself. Her baby is 17 months old and she is pregnant. Of course this is causing her to be malnourished. She is still breast feeding so the pregnancy is sucking nutrients from her thus also taking nutrients away from the 17 month old. It’s a vicious cycle. That’s why they encourage birth spacing (waiting a minimum of 2 years in between children). Not only as a form of birth control but this way you don’t find yourself in this perdicament.

I just found out yesterday that 3 young children (between 1 and 3) in my village have died over the past 2 months. All from malnutrition. Unfortunately the worst of “hunger” season hasn’t come yet. With rainy season that puts most small villages in a time between times. They have planted now but have nothing to harvest until October or November. In the meantime, they eat toh (pronounced toe). That gives them two options corn based to, or millet based to. Either one is filling, cheap but has no nutritional value whatsoever. They do not have the money to eat meat, fruits and vegetables. It’s a sad thing. I see signs of malnutrition in so many children.