Unbelievably, it was only a month and amazingly already a whole month ago that I stepped off the plane in Bamako, Mali! Just a little more than a month ago, I was in Asheville, spending time with my lovely friends and some irreplaceable family! Before I left, my day to day life consisted of first waking up to the noisy cricket alarm on my smart phone, pushing snooze a couple of times, and crawling out of bed to a shower and toilet (with a seat and all), and hopefully coffee very soon after. I drove to work and hung out with crazy kids at the YMCA. Most afternoons, I went to my French class at UNCA or spent time at my (gracious!) friend Sallie’s house in which I lived to hang out with all the neat housemates on the porch. I cooked my own dinner every night, under a light, with an electric stove, pulling items like cheese out of the refrigerator. Oh how things have changed!
Here in Mali, needless to say, my day-to-day life is, ahem, different shall we say. Every morning, I wake up at 5:30 am as the call to prayer rings through my Malian families compound. That’s snooze. Sunrise is last call at 6:15. Soon after, either Sira or Mamine (my host moms) calls softly at my door “Sako,” that’s my Malian name, “I b’I ko?” If I answer “Owo,” which means yes, she’ll put hot water in a bucket in the outdoor bathroom for me to use. The negen, as this outdoor potty is endearingly called, sounds unpleasant but is truly awesome. My negen is a large, cement walled roofless room that consists of a hole in the ground for business, and ample space for taking a bucket bath. Don’t knock it till you try it.
After I make myself presentable in a knee and shoulder covering outfit, I greet everone in my family. This is the marathon. It has to happen pre-coffee and breakfast and it has to occur between myself and every family member. Here’s the translated dialog:
Good morning!
--Good morning!
Was there peace in the night?
--There was only peace in the night. Was there peace in the night?
There was only peace in the night. How is your family?
--No problems at all.
How is your father?
--No problems.
How are you children?
--No problems. How is your family?
No problems.
--How are your children?
No problems.
--May Allah increase the peace of the day!
Amen!
This is not skippable! It’s super important to everyone! After breakfast I walk to school and literally go through the same dialog with at least 10 people, whether you know them or not, anyone you pass. And you also swap where you’re coming from and where you are heading to. But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no. At noon you must greet people again when you meet them. Afternoon, you must greet them again when you meet them and ask the same questions! At night, no different! I think I must seriously spend an hour and a half a day just greeting people! It’s kind of nice and dispels any of that awkward, “oh I’m walking past this person, should I say hi?” Yes. Always. Every time. Being friendly can be rather time consuming.
My school is a large compound on the other side of town. Since families are much larger in Mali, “houses” are set up differently in something called a concession or compound. Basically, a family has a block of land, which has cement rooms surrounding a central congregating area, not so different from an outdoor living room. It’s pretty cool. There are big trees usually for the family to sit under and eat and hang out. My school is at a house similar to this. I have two teachers who are both Malian. There are six other volunteers in my class who are all close to my age. We learn Bambara together, painfully, as none of us have any experience in a language quite like this! French is the “official” language of Mali, but only those who have gone through high school or further have any real grasp of French, and that is usually confined to men and some women whose families may have had a little more money.
At noon, I return back to my families concession for lunch. I eat almost the same thing EVERYDAY for lunch. It’s good…but everyday is everyday! A Malian meal is basically a starch of some kind like potatoes, rice, millet, grits, etc. with a sauce over top. At lunch, for me, I usually have rice with an okra sauce. I wash my hands really good because we don’t use silverware around here! Right hands only please, and try not to make a mess. When I first started eating with my hand, I was a mess. Really. I had to bathe after I ate because I had rice EVERYWHERE, shoes, skirt, face, hair. I can’t even imagine what my family thought! I’ve got some skills now though.
After that, I try to sneak in a very, very warm nap. West African afternoons are toasty as the mornings are chilly. Then it’s back to school with all gajillion greetings along the way!
After two more hours of Bambara, I come back home, greet, and try my best to help them make dinner though I am pretty useless as far as actual manual labor. It really doesn’t matter though because just the act of me trying to do it is entertainment enough for everyone in my compound, including myself especially. These women are amazing, for real. They pick up fiery pieces of charcoal without flinching. They cook outrageous quantities of rice without burning it. They somehow manage to use this huge mortar and pestil sort of contraption to pulverize corn, sorghum, millet, etc. without hurting themselves or anyone around them, with rhythm. Holy crap. One day, one day. But probably not.
After we eat dinner, men eating together in one place, women in another, and children in another, everyone chats while the goats clean up the mess. It’s already dark by 6.30 pm, so I am pretty much zonked by 8, and also quickly deteriorating in my ability to comprehend Bambara in anyway. So I go through the reverse greeting process, give zillions of blessings, and head to my little room, where my comfy bed, big green mosquito net, and Kindle await. I filter out donkey brays, rooster calls, and Malian dance tunes throughout night for a peaceful, lovely sleep.
I’ve gotta say, it’s really a pretty great day.
Just a few overall high lights of my life these days:
-People eat porridge every morning and sometimes its mashed corn, which is grits! It’s just grits! But, fresh! They look at my funny for putting salt and powdered milk in but it just makes me so happy.
-I have secret stashes of chocolate and candy in my room that my Malian family doesn’t know about. Mwahaha. I’m not sharing.
-Goats really, really sound like people. When a goat looks at me on the street, it opens its mouth, sticks its tongue out, and the voice of a man imitating a goat comes out. Its uncanny and really, really funny.
Also on goats, there are baby goats everywhere. They are smaller than shoeboxes and very fuzzy, and also sound like people, but very small. Equally hilarious as the adult goats but far more adorable.
-There are really cool bugs. And rocks.
More soon, must sleep
