Largest Minority

I am back at Peace Corps training center near Mali's capital city, Bamako.  I have completed the two weeks of In Service Training and am all set up to head back to my village and get started on projects.  But I can't.  One murder and several kidnappings have recently occured in northern Mali and I have been asked to hang out in Bamako a little longer to wait for the terrorist activity to settle down.  Kinda weird and scary, but at least it gives me a chance to write about something I have been thinking about a lot: the Fula people.

Mali has an incredible amount of cultural diversity.  Mali's struggle to develope has preserved a variety of lifestyles that would have otherwise been drastically changed by globalization.  There are 40 or more languages and maybe 20 different ethnicities.  In the states I recognize minorities based mainly on physical appearance, but in Mali it takes a trained eye (and ear) to distinguish one ethnicity from another.  For me, it is very hard not to look at someone here and simply think of them as Malian. 

The one exception are the Fula (also known as Peul or Fulani), West Africa's largest minority.  They are especially prevelant in Mali's Mopti region.  Several Fula live near my village and I interact with them daily.  Since they are quite distinct in appearance and are a very large minority in my area, I have learned not only how to recognize them but also how to greet them in their own language.

The Fula have a culture very distinct from any other African ethnicity.  Though they can be found throughout West Africa, they do not represent a majority anywhere.  At 17% though, they are a large minority and play an important role in the ethnic dynamics of the country.  The Fula are stubborn towards change which results in a very unusual way of life.  They hardly speak Bambara or Dogon languages and few of them have given up on their traditional semi nomadic way of life.  I find them both intimidating and fascinating.

A Fula individual can be distinguished from the Dogon in my area based on certain physical characteristics.  The have narrower faces and skinnier noses.  Fulani skin tone is a few shades lighter than the very dark Dogon people.  Fulani men do not constantly shave their heads they way most men in my village do and the Fulani women can let their braids get quite long.  Lastly, scarification and mouth tattoos are very common in a Fulani face. 

The fula also have a unique style of dress.  The man above has a traditional Fula hat and traditional dress.  Women have an excessive amount of jewelry.

I think it is great that I can recognize a Fulani, but it is not only they way they look that is interesting, it is also the way they live.  The most important characteristic about the Fula is that they are semi nomadic.  There are Fulani villages, but they are for the most part temporary.  Their straw houses are simple and can be easily erected and abondoned.  As they wander the wilds of Dogon they herd goats, sheep, and cattle.  When I go on hikes I will always come across a herding Fulani.  The women spend their days going into villages or markets selling the product of herding animals: Milk.  The Fulani around my village come in often to greet and sell me milk or yogurt.  Its a great perk when I run out of powder milk.

The relationship between Dogon and Fulani seems to be relaxed.  They hang out in my village with my family and friends a lot.  They like to make fun of eachother in a healthy way.  Nearly everyone in my village speaks the Fula language as a second language (making Bambara the third most common language in my village and French, Mali's official language, only the 4th most common language in my village).  However, my site mate Zacharia once witnessed a fight break out between a Fulani man and a bus driver (who I think was from Niger).  He described that fight as a Fulani group on one side of the fight and a Dogon group on the other side.  It made me wonder about racism in Mali and to what degree it affects the lives of minority ethnicities such as the Fulani.

To be a minority in Africa is very different than being a minority in the States.  People from all over the world live in America, but of course our westernizing influences are strong so in a strange way we are very diverse and homogenous at the same time.  So many different backgrounds and races exist in the States, but I feel as though third generation Chinese, and a third generation Mexican have almost everything in common; that is, they are both very American.  In Mali it seems to be the opposite.  Everyone is black and African and whatever, but cultures do not blend into any kind of encompassing Malian or African standard.  Because of this it is very hard to compare the Fula to Minorities in the States.  America's largest minority are Hispanics (the title once belonged to African Americans), but I would think that it is very difficult for a Hispanic in America to relate to a Fula in Africa when it comes to matters of ethnicity, identity, and racism.

The funny thing about all this is that I myself, living in a Dogon village, am a minority.  But I feel that I am such an extreme example of a different culture living within a majority culture that it almost doesn't count.  Especially since my life as a Peace Corps volunteer is temporary. 

Public Transport

Public transport really sucks in Mali.  It is hard to move around this country for many reasons.  

1. The schedules are unorganized:  You generally buy a ticket and wait for enough other people to buy tickets for a driver to decide that it is worth it to start up the bus.  I have waited 5 hours before.    
2. The vehicles are falling apart:  Due to breakdowns I have had to wait for repairs and switch buses.  I have also helped push vehicles in order to get them to start.
3. Its hot: Africa is even sweatier inside a crammed bus
4. Roads suck:  Paved roads aren't too common.  And those that do exist are narrow and poorly maintained.
5. Drivers don't drive well:  I would go as far as to call many of them reckless.  It can be scary.  
6. There is no room:  The more a driver/vehicle owner can cram into his bus the more profit he thinks he can make.  Its not just a matter of people but what they are bringing with them.  Goats, Sheep, chickens, animal skins, lumber, and food for market take up much more room then people themselves.  The other day I saw a live cow trying to be squeezed into the trunk of a small car.  I laughed for awhile

So far I've always made it to where I need to get (maybe not by the day I expected to be there by) but every Peace Corps volunteer here seems to have their fair share of public transport stories.  With each story I'm sure my dislike for Public transport has the potential to worsen, but a fondness for the craziness that is Mali will grow.

Dogon Landscape Album

It is the beginning of November as I write this and the weather is starting to cool off a little bit.  The nights are cool, the crops are being harvested, and the tourists are starting to trickle in.  There are not many.  Mali is not your typical vacation destination, but there are those people out there who have heard of Mali's hidden treasures.  Some come for the music, others to see the largest mud building in the world, and others to experience the amazing diversity of language and culture that the many ethnicities of Mali have to offer.  There are also those that come to see a cliff.

The Bandiagara Cliff Band is not only one of most defining features of the Dogon physical landscape, but also of the cultural landscape because of the way humans have used it throughout history.  The cliffs get massive!  And the villages around the Cliffs are enchanting to say the least.  The best part is that my house is on one of the (smaller) cliffs.  They run from my village towards the Northwest in fairly continously.  A month ago I hiked along the cliffs from my village to another volunteer's village on the (much bigger) cliffs.  My friend Ashley documented the 2 day trip with the beautiful pictures below.  The pictures can give you a better idea of my life in Dogon culture as well as give a glimpse to the beauty of Mali that most overlook.

The path to my village.  Only 2 or 3 miles from a nice paved road.  The women are taking lunch out to the people working the fields, taking a sheep out to to probably graze or something I guess, and also watching their babies.  Busy life.

My neighborhood.  The far left is my house but you can't really see it.  It is nicer than most houses in that I have a cement floor and a latrine.  Most don't have cement floors and practically the entire village does not have a latrine (a polite way of saying they poop in the fields).

I was never someone who 'likes kids' back in the States.  Mali is changing that.

Peanuts are being harvested now so it adds some nice flavor (and protein) to my diet.  It is also awesome to see how the harvesting, and storing and preparing of foods is done.  In the states I had not idea what my food looked like before it reached the grocery store...  

...These structures are a major feature in Mali's cultural landscape.  Food is stored in them.

...Doing hikes here usually involves seeing the herders out getting their animals fed.

Here women pound millet as part of a meal's preparation.  These women seemed to have a fun time doing it singing songs and keeping beat with each pound.

 

Wells are not easy to build in my area.  Fortunately a couple springs flow from under the rocks and cliffs.   This scene shows the importance of this single spring for a village nearby mine.  The women walk down from the village to wash cloths, wash themselves, and fetch water...

...Then they walk a couple miles on this path to bring water back to there households for cooking and for their husbands.  This is done more than once per day!!

 

One of the four mosques in my village.  I think my village is pretty muslim by Dogon standards, but I feel like there are probably a lot of Animist perceptions diluting the religious believes of my village.

 A mosque in another village.

Water:  A scarce resource.

We experienced a short storm at one point of hiking and for a very brief period water seemed to be plentiful. 

A classic Postcard Pic of Dogon country.  Notice the buildings that are literally under the cliff! 

Cool pictures, yes?  Next time I try to make an album I might try to show some pictures of friends and stuff in my village...   But first I had been wanting to share the beauty that I have the previlege to experience.  Also all the photos are credit to my friend Ashley.  I did not take a single one of these pictures.

Look like a Monkey

Today I was riding my bike through a remote area on my way into town.  I was riding on a path following two little girls, maybe 7 years old, they didn't turn around to look at me until I was right behind them.  They froze for a second when they saw me with an expression of the most intense fear I have ever seen in another human's eyes, then turned to run away from me screaming too loudly to be able to cry.  They ran for safety to a group of men who were laughing at the scene they had just observed.  The men gave me directions to the main road (I was in fact lost), and as I rode away the two girls seemed to have calmed down, realizing that I probably wasn't going to kill them.  Maybe it was partly they way I was approaching the girls quickly and the fact that I was wearing a strange helmet, but those two girls viewed me almost like a monster.  It was sad and funny.

Its weird that there are different races.  And its weird the way humans react to it.  Isn't crazy that slavery was legal in America a century and a half ago!?  And that the civil rights stuff in America took place half a century ago?  I guess as humans we like to divide ourselves into Us and Them.  Throughout history, Racism has been a popular way of making this division (though I prefer to separate the Them into Yankee Fans).  Its been around forever and will probably always be a part of the human experience.  The children that are so deathly afraid of me in Mali I think say something towards that point.  maybe.  Or maybe its just children being afraid of the unusual.  Which I guess might mean that by hanging out with other races can stamp out racism or something... not really sure...

Anyway, so there is racism.  I guess its people deciding that their race is superior in order to justify the horrible treatment of other races.  One way of doing this I think is by claiming that other races are less evolved/less human.  I think most white racists would say that Black people look more like Monkeys than white people.  And, since I grew up around white people I guess I might have to say.. umm. sure I guess I black person looks more like a primate to me than a white person.  Which I know is the worst thing in the world to say, but bare with me, this story has a point that teaches that tiny ignorant part of my brain a lesson.

So I was hiking around one day and came across some wild monkeys.  Thats pretty cool in itself since I had no idea there were any Monkeys in Dogon country.  In fact, I wouldn't have recognized them as monkeys if the traditional medicine man in my village didn't keep the same kind of monkey as a pet (I figured it came from a different part of Africa).  I was excited to share the story with my friends back at the village since I was really pretty ignorant about wildlife in Dogon Country and interested to learn more.  The most interesting response I got to my incredible story of 'I was walking and saw monkeys' was my friend telling me that they look like me.  The others agreed that white people look like monkeys despite my efforts to claim that it was them that looked like monkeys.  It was all fun and jokes, but some of their arguments were pretty convincing.  

Below is a picture of the Patas Monkey, which I am pretty sure is the type of Monkey that I saw.  It lives across the semi arid regions of Western and Eastern Africa, and are the most common monkey to see in Northern Mali.

My friends in village argued that the monkey looked like me because its nose is long, its eyes a lighter brown (like mine and unlike dark Malian eyes), it is hairy (Malians have hardly any arm/leg hair and much less facial hair then me), and because it is WHITE!  I have to agree.  Now that I look at the image above I think that if that monkey were to be a human he would probably be white.  

At first it was a shock to hear that I looked like a monkey.  My ignorant brain realized that it was dumb to think that black people look like monkeys, but I never even considered that white people probably look primitive to other races.  I guess it was kind of racist of me to think that black people wouldn't be a little racist and think that other races look 'primitive' to them.  The whole point I guess is that Racism and the excuses we have tried to use to justify it are really weird.  I am kind of rambling here since I have been sitting in front of this computer too long (its been over a month since I last used internet and I am letting myself get sucked in), but this was a post I am glad I was able to get up because it was a really cool experienced to be told that I looked like a monkey.  I liked it.  It was humanizing or something.

Ramadan

August 30th marked the end of Ramadan.  Though it doesn't feel like my village is intensely Muslim, and there are still traces of traditional animist beliefs, Ramadan played an important role in the spiritual lives of the villagers.  For thirty days many villagers refrained from drinking, eating and smoking (among other things) during the daytime.  The four small mosques in the village also experienced higher attendance and more extended visits.  When the fasting ended on the 30th of August I was not sure why so much celebrating was going on, but when I saw my work partner (Homologue) drinking tea under the morning sun I realized the fasting was over and joined the village in the religious festivities.

My Freshmen year in College I lived in a dorm with many muslim neighbors.  I remember that they stayed up late into the night in order to eat and maybe smoke some hookah.  I also remember that Ramadan happened in October or November that year (2006).   This confused me to think about at first, but it turns out that Ramadan really did occur much earlier this year than it did in 2006.  Since Ramadan is the holy month of the Islamic Calendar (a calendar that has around 10 or 11 fewer days than the Gregorian Calendar we are used to [how can a calendar function if it does not have the correct number of days?]) it shifts a little earlier every year.

The result is that Ramadan can take place during every season.  Had Ramadan not fallen during the rainy months of Mali, there would have been fewer people working in the fields all day long and more people participating in the fasting.  The work in the fields is tough (I tried it for one day and I could hardly walk the next day), and few go the whole day without eating.  I think that no drinking water for the whole day while doing fieldwork would be crazy and I doubt any of the villagers did this.  When Ramadan falls in December the fasting is easier to do.  There is no fieldwork, the sun is less brutal, and the hours of daylight are less so one does not fast as long.  December Ramadans are even easier for Muslims living in the far north such as in Great Britain where nearly 3 million Muslims live and the sun rises late and sets early.  A June or July Ramadan has the opposite affect however.  A British Muslim on July 1st starts his fasting at 2:55am and cannot eat or drink until 9:40pm!!  Muslims living in Fairbanks, Alaska or further north usually follow the practice of "Makkah," which allows them to began fast at 6am and finish at 6pm.

It was hard to tell who all followed the rules of fasting in my village and who didn't since most spent all day out in the fields.  My work partner followed it well, and since I usually depend on him for meals sometimes lunch was tough to find.  But other than that and the praying and festivities on the 30th of August, Ramadan hardly affected me.  Next Ramadan, however, I will be more used to the routines of the village and it will be easier to pick out the changes that occur during Ramadan.  Maybe it will have a greater affect on me then...

Rural and Urban

There are many Peace Corps experiences.  The stereotype may be mud huts and total isolation, but even in Mali many volunteers find themselves working in towns and cities.  When we first arrived in Mali and had not been assigned a community yet we were asked if we would prefer a rural life or an urban one.  There are advantages and disadvantages to both.  My life (after a whole two weeks of service at site) fits the Peace Corps stereotype well.  My village is small, everyone knows my name, lives in a mud hut, has no electricity, fetches their water and carries it back on their head.  It sucks sometimes (mostly because there is no good food or beer), but the I have certain advantages the city volunteers do not have.

City volunteers enjoy amenities that are lacking in the villages.  Food is available to buy in stores or markets any day of the week in larger towns.  This provides for tastier healthier diets than rural areas.   Water is easier to access as well for city volunteers as pumps and wells are readily available.  Some may even have running water.  Electricity and cell phone reception are other perks.  Some volunteers (not so much in Mali) even have toilets and internet.  These individuals are known as 'Poshcorps' volunteers.

I can't say I don't wish I had these luxuries.  Since the harvest is not for another two months my village is running low on food supplies and I find myself hungry.  I can eat millet as much as I want but I never get full.  I just eat until I get bored of eating. For water I can go either to a spring next to the village or to a well a mile away.  My house is dark and sometimes I feel isolated.  Sometimes I do not like that everyone knows me and crave that anonymity that exists only in cities.

But there are ways to get around these obstacles...  markets exist nearby and as soon as I figure out bus schedules and what villages have market on what days my diet will improve.  I give kids or villagers soap and they will do my laundry or fetch water for me.  I have a solar charger to charge a lamp and cell phone, and have discovered that by hiking around I can find patches of cell reception.

There are the perks of rural life that urban volunteers do not have.  With only 500 people in my village in will be easier to organize meetings and get the community behind the projects.  Community needs will be easier to assess.  I feel like a celebrity in a good way sometimes.  And it is beautiful: simple and clean with a breath taking landscaping that rivals Montana!

Below is a Dogon village (not mine) and Mopti a major Malian city where a couple of Peace Corps volunteers serve.  You can tell that there would be perks and disadvantages to both styles of Peace Corps.

I don't mean to say that I am getting a better Peace Corps experience than urban volunteers.  It is just a way of showing the two sides of Peace Corps.  Development is needed everywhere and no matter where you end up it will be a challenging experience.  I just thought it was important to point out that the Peace Corps experience varies greatly from one volunteer to the next, and the mud hut small village stereotype does not always hold true.

'Good Fellas'

Something I never considered before becoming a part of Peace Corps Mali is that there were many volunteers already serving here and that my group who I met in DC and have trained with for the last two months may not necessarily be the Americans who I spend my time with during the next two years.  In fact, only two other volunteers from my group will be in my region.  Zach (my Tomokan classmate) will live a bike ride away, but other than him it is unlikely that I spend much time with anyone else from my group. 

Currently there are four sets of Peace Corps volunteers in Mali.  Each group arrived together and did their training together.  They elected individuals to perform certain duties to make training run smoother.  They went to class together.  They worked on projects together.  They shared the wild experience of assimilating together.  They swore in as official volunteers together and had a swear in party.  Then they started their Peace Corps service in different villages.

These sets of people who arrived in Mali at the same times are known as 'stages' here in Peace Corps Mali.  Each 'stage' receives a stage name at their swear in party (picked by other volunteers who are helping them during training).  'Risky Business' arrived two years ago and have started one by one to go back to America as their service is coming to an end.  One year ago 'Team America' arrived in Mali.  'The Kennedys' arrived in Mali six months ago and are four months into their their official service.  Yesterday my group officially swore and then spent the day (and all night) celebrating.  Our trainers (four from Team America and one from Risky business) announced our stage name: 'Good Fellas.'  It is tough to entirely understand the reasons for the names of the four stages, but they are nice to have since whenever you meet a fellow volunteer the first thing I ask is "what stage are you?"

We, the 'Good Fellas,' are now official and it is wild to think about how much has happened during our training.  I guess I feel proud.  I mean really really proud!  I am just so damn happy for all of us and so excited to meet other volunteers and tell them "I'm a Good Fella."

We elected my friend Lyle to be in charge of designing a shirt.  The word 'tubab' in Mali is used to refer to a white foriegner.  The idea of Tubab Shakur was funny and turned into the t shirt design.  I think his hand is suppose to be an "M" for Mali. 

I was showing off to other members of 'Good Fellas' my really really awesome talent of drawing a map of U.S. by memory right before we held elections (I think the elections happened the first week I was here!).  I didn't realize that one of the spots up for election would be called 'Map Tigi' (map leader),  so I got stuck with the responsibility of organizing the painting of a world map in a library.  We have worked on the map off and on over the last month.  The map looks alright now, but I still haven't labeled the countries and cities so I guess I need to do that tonight since it will be my last chance before I leave the Capital area for three months.

Part of the end of closing of training included having a member from our host family come visit the Peace Corps training center.  They ate dinner with us (pretty funny watching them use silverware) and they each received certificates thanking them for hosting us.  My host dad was sick so my brother came.  He is the one in the green squatting down.  It was funny to see him be shy and out of his element... I guess it must have been a bit of a culture shock for him to come to such an American place.

Homestay (pics)

Last night was my final night living with my host family.  Though I appreciated all they have done for me and despite having lots of fun with the children, it was not a sad or emotional experience.  My homestay village and my family were great, but I am eager to be done with training.

I had it pretty good at homestay.  I lived with a slightly more wealthy/educated family.  Other volunteers did not have it as good while others had very wealthy families.  The result is mixed feelings among volunteers.  Some cried when they left their caring families and some jumped with joy to get out of their terrible living conditions.

The first picture captures one of the weirdest experiences of my life.  In it is my host dad and host mom, host nephew, host neice, real half brother, and real mother.  I think I set a Peace Corps record for having family visit only two weeks after arriving in Mali.  My mom and brother were traveling/working in Ghana and took a (very long) bus trip to Mali.  My mom, the most adventerous free spirited individual you'll ever meet, called my cell phone the Morning of June 14th to tell me she had arrived in Bamako.  I was expecting her on the 21st so all I could do was tell her the name of the village I was staying at and that I would probably be at the school.  That afternoon her and my brother strolled up to my Tomokan class and joined.

They spent a week in Mali living with me and my host family.  A pretty awsome experience.


The next two pictures show the inside of my concession.  The baby goats in them I saw be born.  The guy is my friend Vincent, an Education volunteer.

The last two is some hanging out time with other volunteers.  We spend long days being in class learning language, technical skills, and cultural stuff, so when we hang out and put down a few beers I think it is well deserved.

I wish I had more pictures up.  But I am bad at documenting and it so hard to upload pictures with limited internet.  Anyways, I hope this can give a nice visual to what I am seeing and experiencing.

The Children

50% of Mali's Population are under the age of fifteen.  Children are everywhere!  They are not very controlled and seem to have the freedom to wander around.  We entertain each other as I am curious about Malian culture and they are even more curious about strange looking white people.

Malian women start having kids as early as 14 and have lots of them.  Families are huge.  Since infant mortality rates are still very high in Mali, there doesn't seem to be as much emotional energy invested into children.  The death of an infant will not gain as much attention as the death of an adult.  Thats not to say that a mother won't be devastated by the death of her child, its just that the rest of the community may not take much attention.  Because of this attitude children are very independent and look out for each other.  Its not unusual to see a seven year old sister carrying a younger sibling on her back as if it was her own child.  Most children are very confident and have a blast trying to talk to us volunteers.  Their attention is usually a lot of fun.

The population pyramid above shows that Mali has extremely high birth rates and death rates.  A lot of volunteers put a lot of effort into teaching family planning and birth control.  Still, most Malian women, even the educated ones, feel like their purpose in life is to raise children.

My favorite part of Malian children is that their attention provides a stress free non formal way of practicing language skills and seeing how the Malian youth understand the reality around them.  My 16 year old host brother tried to explain that Malians are black because it is so hot in Mali, and (as I am tanning) I myself will become black after a few years in Mali.  That cracked me up.  The really young children hardly know what I am.  I've made lots of children cry just by being in their presence.  Some children really freak out and I think that they think that I will eat them.  Parents think its the funniest thing even when their kids are scared of me.  Other children HAVE to touch me.  Especially my hair on my head and on my arms, and my earring.

It makes sense that they would be so interested.  There are definitely some children in the rural villages who have never seen a white person.

They love to chant tubabu when they see me.  The term 'tubabu' originated during French colonization, but it has developed into a term used to refer to rich white foreigners (though the african american in my group will be called tubab as well sometimes).  Its interesting that countries have this word.  In Latin America the term in 'Gringo', and when I lived in Spain locals liked to use the term 'giri.'  Even though Spain is a developed European country my friends explained that the term 'giri' still meant "a foreigner who has more money than us."  The term tubab in Mali is usually harmless.  It is annoying when the children just chant it at you and don't want to talk, but it doesn't bother me at all when Malians call me tubab to get my attention.  I just don't like it when my family (or usually its friends of my family) are talking about me and use the word tubab instead of just using my name.

I have less then a week left of living with my host family.  On August 5th I will swear in as a peace corps volunteer and on August 7th I will permanently move into my village.  My first order of business will be hanging out with the kids and practicing my Tomokan with them.

North North

Cardinal directions develop different meanings from place to place and it is fun to see the way individuals understand the words North, South, East, and West.  Montana is divided between a mountainous west and the flat east.  California has a colder more rural north, and the opposite in the South.  Throughout all of America, the term "The South" carries a very specific connotation.  The region it represents is defined just as much by history and culture as it is by actual geographic location.  Virginia is in "The South" while New Mexico is not, even though New Mexico is in the southern part of the country and Virginia is not so much.  Even most of Florida isn't considered "The South" since the culture of Miami and Orlando don't fit the definition.  You can see North, South, East, West carry strong and strange meanings all over the world.  Florence, Italy insists it is not Northern Italy even though it is clearly in the Northern half of the country.  Then there are the terms like "The Middle East," which are very Eurocentric and don't really make sense.

Mali has a very strange idea of 'North.'  This is probably because no one lives in the northern half of Mali, and because the country is shaped oddly.  Kayes region is West, Bamako and Koulikoro (and maybe segou) regions are central (even though it is not far from the border of Guinea), Sikasso is South, and everything else is North.

The Orange line from Bamako to Mopti were 12 hours on Bus.  You can see Dogon country to the East of Mopti, a trip I will leave for in a couple hours.  The 'no go zone" line cuts across the northern parts of Kayes, Koulikoro, Segou, and Mopti.

 Mopti is the region highlighted on the Map.  It is where I will be spending my 2 years.  When I explain to people in Bamako (It is represented by the tiny dot of a region) that I will be going to Mopti they say that it is so far away, way up north.  I think this is hilarious since so much of Mali is further north still (the regions of Timbiktu, Gao, and Kidal).  So I like to ask if Timbiktu is far and Malians will say that it is far far far...  I ask if Gao and Kidal are far and their response gives off an impression that going there would be impossible.

The strange thing is that It is impossible to for me to go to the far North without breaking Peace Corps rules.  A line exists that cuts across the southern third of Mali, and crossing the line is deemed unsafe by Peace Corps for security reasons, and doing so could result in termination of service.  I have heard of previous volunteers getting kicked out of Peace Corps for traveling North and getting caught.  Apparently a branch of Al Qada operates in Northern Africa and the result is a closing of Peace Corps in Niger and Mauritania, and the creation of this 'No Go Zone' in Mali.

Today I spent 12 miserable hours on bus from Bamako to Mopti, 'the North'.  Even though Mopti looks like it should be called central Mali, it is characterized as being in the North because it is so far from Bamako and towards the Sahara.  And even though it doesn't compare to Timbiktu, Gao, and Kidal, it terms of northerness and isolation from Bamako, Peace Corps restrictions make it (and Dogon country expecially) the furthest North (and East) a volunteer can go.

So even though it doesn't make sense on a map, I can say "I am going to the North to do my Peace Corps Service."

Site Visit

Three hours ago I received the information about the village I would be spending the next two years in.  As a Tomokan student, I knew I would be heading to Dogon Country, but for my fellow volunteers it was a very anticipated moment.

My village is in the Mopti region and within Dogon Country.  The village has 500-1000 inhabitants.  I requested to replace a volunteer and I sort of got my way.  In 2010 a volunteer spent 6 months in my village before getting a job with the Red Cross and leaving Peace Corps.  I am not sure if this will present any advantages or disadvanges. 

The inhabitants of my village speak Tomokan (and some Bambara) which is nice, because I feared that my village would end up speaking a different Dogon dialect.  Tomokan is spoken by 135,000 individuals (the most widespread Dogon language) and though all Dogon dialects are similar (10+ dialects exist), it is strange to think that so many languages/dialects are spoken and I am sure that no matter how good my language skills get to be, understanding the different Dogon accents/dialects will always be an obstacle. 

On Monday (I think) I will be traveling to my village to make sure my living situation is up to par.  I will be going with my homologue, who I meet tomorrow as he is on his way to Bamako to do some training with me.  I hope he's chill. 

It will be great to finally see the place and meet the people that will be the focus of my Peace Corps service.  I also can't wait to finally be surrounded by the language that I have been studying (and getting good at) and not have to transition to Bambara when outside of class.

I am going to Dogon Country in a few days!

African Summer

Mali's lower latitude sets the country up for weather and climate unlike that in the States.  Most of Mali's population lives at around 15 degrees north latitude.  This means that twice a year the sun will be directly overhead (no shadows...) and that during the longest days of the year (now) the sun passes across the northern part of the sky.  Winter is not as dark here as it is in the States and summer days aren't quite as long.  The other week I mixed up my north and south because of the sun's different tracks across the sky.  I was disappointed in myself.

Another result of living at 15 degrees is that it's so hot.  Its brutally hot!  I knew that coming here, but that didn't make the heat suck less.  I can't say for sure, but if its a sunny day, it is nearing 100 degrees.  If you're from Arizona you probably don't think that sounds too bad, but try to go a few days without AC and it might change your mind.  Also, the trainers like us to wear pants because it is what respectable Malians wear in public.  It's more professional I suppose.  I find it hard to feel professional when my clothes are saturated in sweat. 

Its interesting to see the way the village adapts to the heat.  Since buildings are mostly concrete with tin roofs, no time is spent inside.  We eat in yard, we have class outside beneath a mango tree,  and there is no roof over our heads when we bathe or use the bathroom.  We even sleep outside!  Even more interesting is seeing my habits change.  I bathe twice a day because sweat feels gross and because it is a way to find some relief from the heat.  I also wake up at 6:30 every day and enjoy the cooler morning temperatures.

There is one great thing about 15 degrees latitude and that is the thunderstorms.  I like them not only because they dampen the heat, but mostly because they are the most spectacular storms I have ever witnessed.  They can usually be seeing approaching in the distance as an ominous reddish-black mass constantly flickering lightning.  Soon the wind slams into the village carrying dust and debris.  The rain follows in buckets.  Its dark and wet, and everytime I am convinced that the wind is going to rip the tin roof off my room.  The first time a storm hit I was scared and went inside. But watching my 8 year old host sister run out and spend 10 minutes untying a ram from a tree in what seemed like a class 5 hurricane, made me realize that these storms were not unusual.  One storm was particularly strong and a medium sized river raged just outside my compound.  That was pretty awesome and dangerous.

June marks the beginning of the rainy season so I expect these storms to continue.  The storms will provide cloud cover and a wet earth that will absorb more of the sun's radiation.  So while the States are at the begginning of summer, the hottest days in Mali are about done.  The rainy season extends through September for most of Western Africa.  Then it is "cold" season.  I've always been a fan of winter, but this year it is not snowboarding that I will be looking forward to.

Even though I hate the heat in Mali, things are good and I have had plenty of positive experiences that I will post soon.

Dogon

Homestay training has focused mainly on language acquisition.  The day before being sent to live in our homestay villages I learned I would be not be learning Mali's principle language, Bambara.  Instead I would be learning a minority language called Tomokan.

The Tomokan class is only me, Zacharia, and our teacher, Regina.  Regina grew up speaking Tomokan, and also speaks Bambara, Bobo, French, English, and German!  Me and Zacharia (From Boston) live with Tomokan speaking families and spend several hours everyday in language class.  Unfortunately, our peers studying Bambara seem to have an advantage as the homestay villages are Bambara speaking villages.  While they get constant practice with Bambara, my Tomokan practice is limited to class time and short conversations with my host parents.  I still rely on French mostly, and I get frusterated when I am unable to speak basic Bambara to people in the village.  It feels like I am learning a fake language, since I am not able to experience the practical uses of communicating in Tomokan the way my Bambara studying peers can.  It's annoying.

The plus side is that I know what region I will be going to, and its going to be wild.  Bambara students may end up anywhere in Mali (in 10 days we get the name of our site villages and do a site visit), but Tomokan is spoken only by the Dogon people.  Knowing that I will be serving my 2 years in Dogon country makes me feel like badass.  Its a region famous for cliffs, caves, masks, and animist traditions. It is one of Mali's major tourist destinations.

As shown on the map above, the region is east of Djenne and Mopti against the Burkina Faso border.  Bankas will be my banking town, and though I do not know the name of my village until ten days, I know that it will be a community of only a couple hundred, and I will be a bike ride away from Zacharia's village.  

Below one can see the unique linguistic diversity of Dogon Country.  Though the Dogon are viewed as a single ethnic group something like 10 Dogon languages exist.  Include the Fula, Bambara, and French that are spoken and you have one of the most linguistically interesting places in the world.  The pink dots in the map below represent a Tomokan speaking village.  Though no major towns speak Tomokan, it is relatively wide spread and one of the most spoken Dogon languages.

Dogon Country is gonna be Wild!!

It begins...

We are about to leave our sheltered compound where we have all been living comfortably.  In an hour I will move in with a host family in a village nearby and stay there for most of the 8 weeks of training.

During this last week I have had several moments of 'this is it,' or as my friend Immanuel likes to put it: 'this just got real.'  Getting on the plane to leave Montana, going to Orientation in DC, leaving DC, and arriving in Bamako all felt like the start of my journey.  Its been nice to slowly be eased into my life as a Peace Corps volunteer, but arriving at my training host village today will be a significant step forward and I can't say I am not nervous.  It will be my first time seeing the realities of life in a Malian village.  Though most my time will be spent in language class and technical skills class, I will be sharing meals and living space with my host family and it will be interesting to see how we interact.

This is it... until 8 weeks from now when I go to my post.  Then that will really be it!

Staging

On May 31st I arrived in DC for a two day orientation.  DC was the perfect place to start getting used to Africa for several reasons.  It was nearly 100 degrees out, I saw a lot of black people, and (most importantly) I met my fellow volunteers.

The Orientation was helpful, but it was hanging out with a group of 22 new volunteers (a relatively small group) that gave me an idea of what is to come.  My new friends will be my support group during my Mali adventure.  They will also be my social outlet and a reminder of my American personality.  So I guess its a good thing that I like them.  They are pretty much what I expected a group of 22 Mali volunteers to be like. 




We are all in our early 20s except for Renate.  This is her second time doing Peace Corps.  The first time was in Nigeria in 1963.  That's hard core! (Photo courtesy of Maria Harris)

 
I have been in Mali for 24 hours now.  It feels like home already, really.  The training staff is awesome.  We have already had some cross cultural training and language training.  Any doubts I had about spending 2 years in Mali have been pushed to the side... but I'm sure they will resurface from time to time.

My cell number for the next 9 weeks will be 223-71689664

My address for the next 9 weeks will be:
Matthew English, PCT
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 85
Bamako, Mali  West Africa

My Assignment

Well over a year ago I went to the Peace Corps website and clicked on "start your application process."  A couple months ago I was given my mission: "To improve the water quality of a rural community in Mali."

Mali is located in Western Africa.  The Sahara dominates half the country, but most the population lives in the country's Sahel (transition zone between Africa's Sahara desert and tropics) region further south.  I don't need to weigh this post down with too many facts about Mali since you can do that on your own, but there are a few that should be noted:
-Mali is 90% Muslim
-Despite being relatively stable politically, Mali is among the poorest countries in the world, with extremely low literacy rates, life expectancies, and high infant mortality rates
-Its hot there
-The Peace Corps has been in Mali since the early seventies
-Bambara is the most used language (though 40+ languages exist)
-Many individuals speak French (Guess what country Mali once belonged to)
-Its really really hot there
    

I can't describe what my work is exactly until I am there.  I try to imagine myself in an African village digging wells with the locals, but I have a feeling that the vision isn't very accurate.

The first nine weeks in Mali will be spent near the capital, training to be a Water Sanitation volunteer.  This is good since I have no freaking idea how to dig a well.  Or filter water, or speak Bambara, or not get sick, or survive in any way shape or form.  How did I even get accepted?  I am not doubting myself, I just don't see how a geography student with minimal construction experience is expected to bring clean water to an African village.

Final days in Montana

I have only tonight and tomorrow left in Montana.  Why am I not feeling crazy right now?  Maybe it hasn't dawned on me that I will be spending the next couple years living in rural Mali.  Or it could be that I am very aware of this fact and it is almost old news at this point.  Maybe it's the couple wins the Mariners had against the Yankees that have got me all distracted.  I suppose I am not emotionally prepared for the shock of arriving in Africa, but there is nothing wrong with that.  I expect the transition to life in Mali to be extremely challenging emotionally and physically... and I also expect it to be very rewarding.