Tippy taps for all!!

The last couple of weeks at site have been fairly productive. We planted 22 Bashi Jiri (Moringa trees). The two I planted in my yard, although started out fabulously, were ravished by goats...I’m assuming. I did not see them in action but I heard the goats really love the leaves of the tree. The other 20 trees were planted in between the corn in the field next to the Matrone’s house. Since the goats don’t seem to bother with the corn I guessed this would be a fairly safe place to start the trees and they would have time to grow quite a bit before the corn has been harvested and the plants die off. That’s the plan anyway. The trees are in their third week.

This past weekend my homologue and I built two tippy taps in village. A tippy tap is a cheap, everyone can make one, hand washing station. Using tree branches as the frame, a 4 liter motor oil jug, a bar of soap and some rope (soap on a rope) everyone can wash their hands. There is also a 4th stick/branch used as a foot pedal if you will.  If everything gets set up properly when you step on the "foot pedal" the water jug will tip and water comes out of a hole on the top.  My idea was to put them in areas around the village (we are going to put up three more this week) were they would get the most visibility. This way everyone would have a chance to see them, use them and note how easy it would be to have one in their own compound. That’s the hope. We put one up in front of the Maternity building and one up in front of the butiki. Everyone who comes in and out of Maternity whether they are delivering a baby or there with a sick someone will see it. And of course at the butiki all the men hang out there during the day and the women and kids are in and out making purchases throughout each day as well. Unfortunately it has come to my attention that no one has actually used them yet.




Tippy tap at it's best.




The village Matrone using the tippy tap.


There is a volunteer from the previous group that keeps statistics in her village on the tippy taps that were built. She built several herself initially and since then there has been a total of 61 built in her village. She goes around village throughout the week, usually around lunch or dinner time, checking to see if the tippy tap is wet underneath. She also keeps track of the soap. Is it the initial bar they put up when they built the tippy tap, which means even if they are using the water they are not using soap, or have they replaced it recently. Unfortunately about half the tippy taps that were built are either broken or someone took the water jug or soap off of them. That’s too bad. Also, she noted from last year that during rainy season, which is planting and growing season, most people work and eat out in the fields so they don’t get much use during this time anyway. Which is a shame since this time of year sickness is definitely at a high. It’s the time of the year when hand washing is most important. I am going to keep a close eye on the tippy taps by maternity and the butiki and see what kind of action they’re getting. I’m expecting the worst and hoping for the best.




Now that's a tippy tap!!



The Matrone testing out the "foot pedal".
Looks like it's working.

July 24, 2011

Bougoula’s dugutigi (village chief) died last night. I heard drums at about 6 this morning. I knew something had happened.

He was very old and not very healthy. The Matrone said he was 98. I think he was old, very old, but I can’t imagine he was really 98. Maybe 90, 91, 92...but not 98. In separated groups, men from women, most of the people in village gathered at one point of the morning or another at the dugutigi’s and the neighbors compound. I put on a nice skirt and top. Put a scarf around my head and walked over as well. I only live right next door.

Everyone sat around talking and of course food was being prepared. After about 2 hours we walked out of the compounds towards the mosque. There was already a mound just outside the mosque were apparently the dugutigi had already been buried. A group of women danced around the gravesite laughing and playing instruments. Apparently death is a happy time...especially when you have lived a good long life as it should be.

It's been a while

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated my blog. I’m not sure why. I guess because there’s not much that is new. Site is fairly boring. There isn’t much to do in the way of work and of course these first 3 months were to be strictly devoted to integrating and continuing our language studies. My integrating consists of spending several hours a day sitting at the Matrone’s house, chatting and waiting for something to happen. Or sitting up at the boutiki with the same few men that hang out there drinking tea every day.
It’s a very interesting culture here. Unless it’s to work or go to the market for food or to sell their items the women stay at home. The men go to the fields or hang out at the boutiki or with their friends drinking tea. I was very surprised in my village, after all I had heard about the women doing the planting and caring for the fields, to see the men out there planting. Now the planting is done. They still go out into the fields every day to aerate the ground and try and keep the weeds to a minimum. With only the little bit of rain that we’ve gotten it appears that it’s only the weeds that are thriving. The village has planted cotton, corn (lots and lots of corn), peanuts and rice. August is supposed to be the absolute wettest month of the year. I know it’s only the 7th but it doesn’t appear to be raining much more than the months previous. Which is not a good sign. Most of what they grow in Bougoula they grow to sell so that they have money to feed their families. No growing, no selling, no food. This is the most unhealthy part of the year in most small villages. Besides the abundant diseases, infections and the such that most are more susceptible to during rainy season, malnutrition is a huge issue.

Malnutrition already seems to be an issue in my village. At first glance at the children you would think that they eat...plenty... and that they must be healthy. They are chubby and have lots of energy. But after further observation you notice that they are chubby, but only their bellies. A lot of the children have circles of missing hair, or their hair has lost the pigment and so it is red in color. They have dry scaly skin, edema and brown stains on their teeth and pitting due to decay. Also, chronic diarrhea is also a symptom of malnutrition. Unfortunately most Malians, including the little children have tooth decay due to not brushing their teeth and the horrid amounts of sugar they eat (most people in my village are missing some if not all of their teeth, especially the front ones, including the children. If they are there, they are rotting and will eventually come out. Then yet some, very few, but some, have beautiful teeth...go figure.); and most live with diarrhea regularly so they believe it to be somewhat normal. So these signs go unnoticed as actual symptoms of malnutrition. I imagine it will get worse as rainy season progresses.
Most of the families in my village eat serri (corn based cereal...with lots of sugar) for breakfast and toh (pr. toe) for lunch and dinner. All three are corn based meals. Corn is available in village, if not in market all year round. It is cheap and once it’s dried you do not have to worry about it going bad without having electricity/refrigeration. Very few families eat vegetables or fruits. And meat, is almost non-existent. They are none of these things available in village. The market town is only 7k away but is only on Thursday. They do sell some things there on the other days of the week but the only way to get there is to walk. Since most of every lit hour is spent working in the fields and walking 14k (7 there and 7 back) takes up most of the day it is not reasonable to go to the market more than once a week. So there just isn’t anything available. Even if these things were more readily available, most families, were the daily income is $1 or less per day, they just can’t afford it.



Classic case of malnutrition.  Scaley skin, reddish coloring of hair. 
Poor baby is rubbing and scrataching like she's on fire.



"Bougoula will be a hungry village."

It has only rained one time since I've been back.  This is very bad.  Because of not having a good source of water for irrigation any other time of year most small villages wait and rely on rainy season to do their planting.  They plant when they know rainy season is here and as long as the rains keep us as expected their crops will be ready to harvest by the end of the season...October-ish.  Well they are ready to plant and some have planted already and still no rain.  Someone told me the other day that if it doesn't rain soon "Bougoula will be a hungry village".

Wedding Bells...or drums...whatever!
July 5, 2011
I went to my first wedding.  Well actually it was the day before party.  The women and men celebrate seperately until the actual wedding.  They gather around 11am and eat and talk...and eat and talk.  At night there are drums and dancing.  After the wedding is a procession of 20-30 motorcycles/scooters riding down the road, beeping their horns with the bridge and groom out front.  Except for their festivities taking place all outside, rain or shine, and the no electricity...and the drums...it's much like a wedding in the states.  LOL!

The land of cotton

Look away, look away, look away Dixieland:


I planted cotton today. I saw my jatigi this morning and he said I should come with him to the field. I came back with a new outlook and decided I should get into the spirit of small village living. What better place to start than the fields. I didn’t know I would actually be doing work. Oddly enough there was about 10 guys out in the fields planting. Usually this is woman’s work (along with everything else). I was a little surprised. But they handed me a dabla (hoe type tool) and pocket full of cotton seeds and I planted along with everyone else

Rain, rain go away, come back another day:

What is the opposite of this song. I think I am listening to it right now. I was woken up by drumming in the close distance. It’s about 12:30am. Not sure which direction it is coming from. It is a rain dance. Since the rains have not come on their own in desperation they are out playing drums and dancing for the rain to come. It actually looked all day like it was going to rain. But it has looked like that every day since I’ve been home and hasn’t rained since the first day I got back. But as I look out my bedroom window I can see stars now. Although the thermometer in my room reads about 20 degrees cooler than it had been before I left it doesn’t feel any cooler. The humidity is overwhelming. I am sweating and my bed is a big wet spot. The only relief is rain. I hope this rain dance works. It can’t hurt to try, right?

Bougouni bound

I traveled all day in the rain. Which actually was pretty good. The rain made it so that the bus was very cool inside. There was thunder and lightning the whole way and my seat mate was a nice, good smelling gentleman that only laid his sleepy head onto my shoulder once throughout the whole three hour ride. The only unsettling thing about the whole trip was when I realized the windshield wipers didn’t work and someone was standing up front with a rag to wipe the fog the front window in front of the driver. That’s never a good thing. I was only three seats back. My thought most of the way is that if we hit anything I’d be one of the first ones out the windshield. At least I would have to worry about the windshield wipers bludgeoning me to death.
When I got to Bougouni it was getting dark and the mud at the gar was ankle deep. Only imaging what the walk to the house would be like I decided to take a cab. I’m not sure how this particular vehicle made it the whole mile or so to the house but as usual, without ceasing to amaze me, it did. It was only me and one other volunteer for Monday night. But soon learned that others were coming the next day and the next. As it turns out most volunteers weren’t ready to go back to site. There was a lot of us that were going right from camp out to Manateli, an area of Mali that is supposed to be beautiful and the last place in Mali where you can see hippos in the wild. As appealing as that and the 10 hour bus ride sounded from what I understood it is more a drunk fest that an outdoor adventure. If this was the 80s I would have been all over that, but in my older age I thought it best to stay my distance. I would be just fine with a few people eating, watching movies and relaxing in our transit house.

I stayed until Friday. Waati sera (it’s time). I got back to Bougoula by early afternoon. Enough daylight left to clean up a mess I knew there would be in my house. If nothing else there would be some lizard droppings and dust from the wind blowing through the windows. I had put my bed and tent up and I was sure it would be covered as well. I was hoping nothing moved in to my house in the 3 weeks I had been gone but I got some folks to go in before me, shake some stuff around and make sure there wasn’t anything in there for sure. After they were done I went in with a broom. It wasn’t too bad but still need everything to be moved and a good cleaning and sweeping. There was dust from the wind, there were dirt tracks up and down the walls that are left by termites that needed to be scraped off, which makes a mess, some lizard dropping, termite droppings and piles of very fine saw dust. As it turns out there are small bugs, supposedly not termites, that eat the wood ceiling beams. When they do they produce this fine saw dust that piles up around the floor and all over my stuff. I’ve noticed it before but not in such magnitude as I sweep every morning when I wake up and throughout the day when I am in and out of the house. It took about 2 hours but I was finished before dark and ready for my own “bed” for that evening. I went around and greeted everyone and let them know I was back. They seemed genuinely happy to see me. Hmmm…

The Matrone and my homologue were telling me that it had not been raining. It is rainy season. It should rain every day, but it has not been. This is very, very bad. They wait to plant the fields until rainy season comes since they have no other way of watering. But it has to rain for everything to take root and start to grow. It rained this afternoon. The whole village was sure it was because I was back. I am the best!!



This is what it looks like when it's getting ready to rain in Africa.



Muntugula visit

We finally got into town and of course you could spot us from a mile away. The welcome we received from everyone was unbelievable. They were as happy to see us as if they had known us our whole lives. It was funny to me as they weren’t that thrilled to have us there to begin with. It made me think…if I could stay out of my village for two months maybe they would be as excited for me to come back as Muntugula kaw (peeps) were. Just a thought. Some kids helped me carry my bags to “my house”. No one seemed to be around but my host sister, who didn’t show up to say goodbye the first time around, was inside sleeping. The kids woke her up and she came out of the house in somewhat of a haze. It took her a moment to realize what was going on and that I was there. When she did realize she immediately started hugging me and crying. It was only then that I finally was sure that she didn’t show up to say goodbye to me feigning being sick not because she was an asshole and didn’t like me but because she didn’t want to cry. For Malians there is a taboo to crying and making a fuss about someone or something. It is shameful for them and they will be teased about it forever…or for a good long time anyway.

When she finally calmed down enough to think she put my stuff in the house and started locking doors. It took me a minute to realize that she was getting ready to take me out to the family garden where my host mom and younger brother were. Unfortunately my older host brother was in Bamako. As it turns out he is back in school, at university, and very rarely comes home anymore. I really would love to have rested for a minute. Traveling is a tiring chore, but I was excited to get to see everyone. So we started on our 25 minute walk to the garden. The mom saw me walking up and although wasn’t quite as excited to see me as Sitan was, she was excited none the less. My host brother was out moving a cow with a plow around the field with two other boys. He appeared also not as excited to see me which I was surprised about considering how he cried and cried when I left. But again, showing emotion here is not their strong suit. We sat, we talked, we ate and then started our walk home. Host mom and brother came back to the house later that evening. We ate dinner and hung out until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. They had set up my old room with a mattress and mosquito net. They really went out of their way to make me comfortable. I felt bad making them have to do work especially since I showed up unannounced. When I apologized and told them this they insisted that whenever I was able to come back that would always be considered my room and they are more than happy to make me comfortable.

It was a good visit but now it is Monday and time to head out. As soon as the others came by to get me so we could go and hitch a ride back up to the main road both my host sister and younger brother immediately started to cry. Sitan hugged and hugged me. I was really surprised how emotional it was since it was the second time. When we got to a waiting area by the road when I looked I saw my host mom crying as well. It touched my heart. We got a ride to the main road. Waited about a half an hour and finally got a basche (bush taxi) into Bamako to the gar (bus station). This is my first time on a basche. I have avoided them at all cost. There are the little buses that are made for about 10 people. They take out the seats, have could benches that go around the circumference of the inside and squeeze in as many people, sacks of rice and animals as they can. This bus had 17 people in it including the three of us that left at the same time. Not a comfortable ride but a ride. Got to Bamako gar which is a place I would rather never see again in my life. We were immediately approached by about six men that all wanted to “help” us get to our buses or get a taxi. I was the only one getting on a bus. There is a million (or so) people looming about. It is very overwhelming. Someone grabbed my suitcase and just started walking. The other volunteers I was with asked me why I kept following this guy. WELL for one, he has my suitcase!! On the way to the bus we parted company without even a good bye as I went in one direction and they went in another. It was all very overwhelming but finally I’m on a bus…still not to Bougoula. Between camp and Muntugula I felt that I still needed to decompress for a couple of days. I’m headed to Bougouni for a day or two…or four.